dating eddie includes silly, inescapable bits that can be annoying (that secretly you love, and will die before admitting that to him).
bit one, his all time favourite; the medieval dispute summoner. he will instigate silly nonsensical arguments with you, and his friends and will do it all in medieval dialect. "hear ye, sir gareth hath committed treason against the realm..." → gareth literally just sat down, and has yet to say a word to eddie. and because you're all nerds, everyone is immediately on gareth, "treason?!" "name thy crime!" "to the dungeons!" and eddie just sits back like a king on his throne watching the chaos unfold like he didn't make it all up.
bit two; the victorian escort. eddie will offer you his elbow, with a dramatic, yet serious; "lady/lord ____, the corridor is perilous," to which if you're in the mood for it (lets be honest, you are) "indeed, sir edward. guard me from the riffraff," bonus: anyone who gets too close, eddie will glare at like they're commoners.
bit three; i am your lawyer. whenever you say something even mildly incriminating, eddie will jump to your defense like your lawyer.
you: i might bite her
eddie: my client has never bitten anyone, ever. this is hearsay.
or
you: i'm going to kill him
eddie: allegedly
bit four; the dramatic witness. eddie will dramatically narrate things like he's in a nature documentary, or a witness in court on the stand. "behold; my lovely partner, reading peacefully on the couch, blissfully unaware they're about to be attacked—" "eds, i can hear you."
bit five; the tortured poet. he will drop onto furniture with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead like a fainting victorian worman and announce the most dramatic, unserious suffering. "i am but a wounded creature" or "no one understands my delicate soul" meanwhile he's likely just upset someone ate his snacks.
SUMMARY — rhett fixes the back door while you try to watch his parent's wedding video... mostly you space out. then, reality smacks you in the face... a couple times.
PAIRING — rhett abbott x fem!tillerson!reader
WORD COUNT — 8.1k
WARNINGS — swearing, allusions to reader being shorter than rhett, ivy is a hardcore shipper, drinking, mentions of past use of marijuana, familial fighting, no use of y/n — is referred to as ms. tillerson, little sister & warlord, rhett being a tease gentleman, crying, fear of disownment, ivy being the best hypewoman & friend, writing this made me realize how much i use em dashes,,, i am okay with that (there's a lot of them), kissing, trevor, luke & billy being good brothers—but also bastards, arguing, angst, soft!rhett near the end
A/N — i came to the realization that i don't think i've actually written any kissing scenes in like 2-3 years so i'm sorry if it's cringe. but thank you for all the love on part one!! i really appreciate it and all of you <3 i hope y'all like this part, and hopefully i'll have part 3 up next week sometime!!
MASTERLIST
"alright, i want details and i want them two hours ago," ivy says, settling in the chair rhett had occupied just a few short hours ago.
luke had literally just left, he'd stuck around to grill you about rhett's visit, and then promptly reminded you who your loyalty should be to. the totally shocking (not at all shocking), impromptu verbal power point concluded with a pointed glare and a grunted, "you're a tillerson—act like it."
"what did the king tell you?" you ask, because you know that luke wouldn't just not prattle on about it, even if you weren't there to hear it.
"abbott's bad. tillerson's good." she says in a caveman voice, then rolls her eyes.
"oh, great you're all caught up. did he give you the full history?"
"oh yes, it was thorough."
"fun..." you reply, and she gives you a look that says "go on" and you sigh. "rhett and i went to high shool together, had mutual friends. we get along, we're not friends or anything."
"oh puh-lease he either has the saddest eyes i have ever seen or he's in love with you." she fires back, and your mouth drops open. "his eyes never left you. i mean when he was looking at the wood, yes, but when you were moving the cabinet— girl his eyes were on you."
you feel kind like someone slapped you, or threw ice water at you. you stare at her, you're really not sure what to say to that, and you sure as hell don't believe her.
"and!" she nearly shouts at you out of excitement, "he talked himself into doing more work for you. he could have just said "thanks" and carried on. he wants tohave an excuse to be around you!"
"no— that was just rhett being rhett. he's right, they don't really equate—"
"stop being logical about this. he likes you. he likes you."
you open your mouth to protest, but she jumps up, and dives out of the room.
"NO." she yells, her voice muffled by the wall between you.
you stare at her through the glass wall, eyes narrowing as she busies herself on her computer at the reception desk. she's insane. you love ivy, she supported your art when your brothers weren't all that impressed with your divergence from the family legacy, you really do. but she's legitimately batshit insane sometimes. like, she's literally dating your brother luke. this is one of those moments. at least that's the file you're choosing to file it in. she pops up out if her seat, and scoots over to your open door.
"did he get your number?" she asks, and you raise your eyebrows at her, she squeals. "he already had it, didn't he?!"
she cackles like a witch, and yanks the door closed behind her as she leaves you again. and yet, you're somehow the weird one. you shake your head, then decide to leaf through your portfolio. you open it across your desk, and flip through. when you get to the picture of rhett, you squint at it. the shot had been mid buck, his free hand raised high above his head, the curve of his shoulder, the intensity in his posture. no, not a single chance in hell rhett actually saw this and knew it was him.
you laugh, and flip back to the group photo and your blood runs cold. you didn't even notice it before—why would you?
rhett was wearing the exact same shirt in the group photo.
your boots click against the marble floor as you walk deeper into your childhood home, you don't miss it. not really. there are stuffed animal heads on nearly every wall, which always makes a shiver run down your spin. you hate them. they're fuckin' creepy.
"you're early," luke comments, leaning against the railing leading to the stairs.
"yeah, well i have someone comin' to fix the back door. so i kind of have to be at the studio to let them in," you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.
"trevor and i could fix it tomorrow," luke offers, his grip on the railing tightens a fraction of an inch.
"like i said; i have someone comin' already."
"ivy told me—seriously, abbott?"
"jesus luke, don't fuckin' start. i get it okay. you don't want me hanging around him, but i'm an adult—i can make my own goddamn decisions."
"even if it's hurtin' the family?" he asks, eyebrows raised, lips set in in thin line.
he throws that around so often you're starting to resent the sentence all together. it might have worked to keep you in line in high school, but you don't feel that same guilt like you used to. when you'd moved off to new york you'd experience true freedom. no one barking at you about how to sit, when to speak, no one lying to you to keep you safe or whatever the excuse happened to be. no manipulations. no endgame. no power struggle. just, free, honest living. if you didn't love your hometown so damn much—and billy, mostly—you might just buy yourself a plane ticket and go back. because it might have only taken a couple of years, but you were starting to remember why you'd left in the first place.
you scoff, "i'm not hurtin' shit, but you—you don't see the damage you do every time you throw that at me."
you don't give him time to reply, you just breeze past him, taking the stairs two at a time. you find billy sitting at his keyboard when you get to his doorway. he smiles at you softly and you sigh.
"little sister,"
"billy," you nod, dropping onto the edge of his bed. "how much did you hear?"
he shrugs, "all of it,"
you roll your eyes, but nod, throwing your weight backwards so you're laying back staring up at the ceiling. you hear him humming softly, and you take a deep breath. billy has always been your anchor in the family—you might have cut them off a long time ago if not for him. he always listened to without judgement—something that was a luxury in a small town like wabang, and even more so in your own family. you quickly learned growing up who you could tell what, and how you'd have to say it. with billy there wasn't any of that mental chess, just, honest open discussion.
"you ever wanted somethin'—someone—so bad that it makes your chest ache? like, a smile in your direction makes your whole day, their eyes landing on you makes you feel seen even if they didn't say anything to you?" you ask softly, and billy stops humming.
"yes," he replies, his voice equally as soft as you force yourself up onto your elbows so you can look at him.
"what do you do if everyone in your life is telling you to run in the opposite direction, shove it all down, ignore it? what do you do when you've been doing that for years, and it's slowly killin' you?"
he stares at you, you can see the gears turning in his head, and you wait. you know he knows who you're talking about. he's known since the painting. billy is a lot of things—stupid is not one. spacey, sure, but boy does billy notice more than most.
"you either let it kill you," he says, twisting on the bench to look out the window behind him—towards the abbott ranch no less. "or you ask for forgiveness when all's said and done, and hope that it all works out."
your phone chimes softly around 7:45pm, just as you're finishing up the last of your dishes. you rinse the last pot, laying it to dry. you quickly turn, and wipe your hands on the tea towel hanging from your stove. you pick your phone up from it's spot on the counter, and your heart skips.
here - rhett
you look down at your clothes, you'd long since changed into your pj's—just a plain loose fitting t-shirt that you'd cut the neck off, and a pair of black plaid shorts. was this professional? no. should you change? yes. are you going to? not likely. today was hard. you sigh, then glance in the mirror hanging by your front door. your hair is in relatively good condition, so you shrug and step out into the small hallway leading downstairs.
you slip from the hallway into the waiting area, and find rhett standing at the front door with his hands in his pockets and his back to the window. you'd pause, god he's good looking even—especially—from this angle. you pause momentarily thinking about smacking yourself, but then he turns to look at you through the window. he shoots you a smile, and you force yourself forward.
"evenin'," he says when you slip the door open.
"evenin'," you reply, "uh, what do you need from me? anything?"
he shakes his head, "just gotta move the shelf back, my truck's already in the back alley."
you nod, and shuffle out of the way to let him in. he scoots past you, his chest brushing against your arm. sparks shoot through you, as you step back a little further, watching as he walks into the back. you shove the door closed, locking it again and you turn. dear god woman, get your shit together. it's just rhett.
he pokes his head back out, "gonna need your help,"
"okay," you say, voice coming out much too shaky.
you head back to where he is, and help him shuffle the cabinet out of the way. he peels off his jacket, laying it on one of the tables, and you can see the muscles underneath his white shirt contract as he removes the door. easily might you add, like stupid easy. just lifts it like it's nothing, and you find yourself briefly wondering if he'd be able to pick you up that. then you cough, and he glances back at you. your face and neck burning.
"do you want something to drink? coffee? beer? water?" you ask, eyes catching on his bicep, then quickly turning your eyes away from him altogether.
"uh, a beer would be nice," he tells you, stepping out the back doorway to grab something from his truck.
you turn on your heel, heading back upstairs. you grab two beers, at this point you need something to focus on that isn't rhett. otherwise you'll end up drooling on him or something just as insane. you shake your head, get a damn grip. he's just rhett. maybe it was the fact that years of hard labour made him even more muscular, or the way his lips curved up into a soft smile everytime he saw you— no. that wasn't real.
you think back to this morning when you'd made eye contact with him, and yes, he had smiled at you. just a few minutes ago, when you'd let him in—same soft smile—maybe ivy wasn't as crazy as you were thinking. you shake your head again, doesn't matter. he's an abbott. you grimace, and then pop the top off the beers, before deciding you need a shot before you go back downstairs. you grab the open bottle of vodka sitting on your counter, and forego the shot class all together, and take big gulp.
it burns as it slides down your throat. what could another possibly do? so you bring the bottle back to your lips, and take another long ass drink. you grit your teeth as you grab the open beers. you pop the top back on the vodka bottle, and head downstairs. he's in the same spot, hunched over, looking at the doorframe.
"behind you," you mumbles so you don't startle him, and he glances up as you pass him one of the cold beers in your hands.
"thanks," he says, shooting you a small smile.
you nod, and pull yourself up on the counter just beside the door, crossing your legs up under you.
you're not sure if staying—hovering more like it—is a smart move on your part, but he doesn't seem to mind. after a few minutes of fiddling he stands up, goes down the steps and returns holding something.
"before i forget," he says, handing it to you. "had to bribe perry to get ahold of this."
you take the vhs from his outstretched hand, and your fingers brush his. you feel your face getting hot, again. another jolt of electricity parks across your chest as you make quick work of examining it, it's got a peeling yellowed label that just reads "royal + cecilia" followed by the year they got married.
"perfect," you say, "i think i have one of those vhs player tv's in the storage closet. if it's not a bother, i'll watch it now and make some sketches while you work, then you can take it back with you when you leave."
he nods, stepping back to give you space to slide of the counter. your lose your balance, squeaking in fear, but rhett catches your elbow, steadying you. you straighten yourself, and glance up at him.
"you ok?" he asks, an amused expression written across his features.
"yes," you huff, annoyance bubbling up in your voice.
gosh, he's pretty... and you're a mess. you shuffle across the room, his eyes fully still on you. you pop open the storage closet, and tug on the string hanging from the ceiling. yellow light floods the room. it's not a big space, maybe two feet by two feet, the walls lined with shelves upon shelves of art supplies. on the very top shelf, just inches out of your reach is the damn tv.
"fuckin' trevor," you grumble, and you hear a chuckle from behind you.
"need a hand?" rhett asks, and then you feel his presence behind you.
"yeah, i guess, goddamn tall fuckin' asshole brothers of mine," you say, and he laughs again.
he leans forward, his chest brushing your back as he easily maneuvers the small box tv off the shelf. you're not even really aware of how hard your breathing is when you glance up at him. he's smirking at you, like he knows some goddamn secret you don't. you lick your lips, incredibly aware of how close he is. how easy it would be to just lean forward, and press your lips to his. his eyes flick between your eyes, and your lips, and you have the overwhelming urge to scream again. fuck, you might be a little drunk. vodka was not the move.
you ease the tv out of his hands, brushing past him, "you need to stop lookin' at me like that,"
you set the tv on the counter by the doorway, and glance back. he's staring at you with that soft fucking smile. you melt a little.
"like what?" he asks, taking a step towards you.
you know damn well it's the vodka boosting your confidence, and removing your filter, but you can't help but say it, "like you want to kiss me,"
he's so close to you now, you can feel the heat radiating off him, he leans forward slightly and puts his hands on the counter on either side of your body. he's got you caged against the counter, and your heart is slamming against your ribcage with a ferocity that you haven't experienced since high school gym class. you want so damn badly to lean in, but you also know how goddamn complicated that would make your life.
"but i do," he says, it's so soft, so matter of fact.
it sends you reeling. what the actual fuck. is he insane?! you gulp, like actually. you'd literally stopped breathing there for a second. he's eye-level with you, a smirk on his lips. you want him so badly. but you're very obviously too drunk for that, and he steps back.
"however, i'd like you to remember it."
you pout, "i'd remember it."
he looks at you, one eye brow quirked up in a way that just screams he's challenging you. you roll your eyes, and pick your beer back up. you take a long drink, and turn your attention to the tv. you're not really focused on it. but hey, if he thinks you're too drunk to kiss, you might as well keep drinking. totally flawed thinking by the way. you know you're going to regret this later, but oh well. you plug the tv in, and pop the vhs into the player. rhett's moved back to the door, and is working away as you pad to the office to retrieve your sketchbook.
you settle on the edge of one of the tables, knees pulled up to your chest as you watch the tv... actually you're watching rhett's back. you don't even realize you zoned out until he turns, catching your eye. you drop your eyes to your sketchbook, and then glance up at the tv. you're trying so hard to focus, and at this point you're not sure if it's just rhett being handsome and distracting, or if it's the alcohol. probably both. definitely both. you catch a small moment on the tv—a small flicker of an expression on royal's face as he stands at the front of the room.
you slide off the table, and pad to the tv to rewind it. it's so miniscule, such a small moment—second really. but it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. he looks so in-love with cecilia. it's like for a moment, he can't believe she's going to be his wife. you rewind the tv again, pausing it just as the look returns. you turn the tv and lean against the counter to sketch what you're seeing on his face. it's not what rhett had asked for, but you're not sure if cecilia had ever noticed this particular moment. you sketch it out, roughly, eyes jetting back and forth between your sketch pad and the tv.
then, you look around for your phone. you're sure you brought it down with you. you huff, and rhett looks up at you.
"what?" he asks softly, pausing what he was doing.
"can i borrow your phone? i'm not sure where mine went, and i just want a picture of this."
"sure," he stands, fishing it out of his pocket, he doesn't even blink when he types his password in then slides it in your hand.
you blink at him, but he doesn't even spare you a second glance before resuming what he was doing. you shake your head, and turn back to the tv. you take a few photos from different angles trying to keep the glare from showing up. you set it down on the counter, and then press play again. you watch their vows; and then the first kiss. cecilia has this girlish excitement as she throws her arms around royal. he dips her, and you pause the video again. you take a couple more photos on rhett's phone, then make a rough sketch. you fast forward through the reception, up until the first dance.
you pause on a section where you can see both of their faces; a look of pure joy spread across both their faces. you don't think you've ever seen royal smile, let alone this much. it's almost unsettling... or it would be if the pure adoration radiating from the pair of them wasn't so darn cute. you snap another few photos, and then rhett's phone dings in your hands. you lean back, looking at him around the tv—but he keeps working.
"your phone dinged," you say, and he glances up at you.
"who was it?" he turns back to what he was doing and you suddenly feel weird.
why was he being so trusting with his phone? your last boyfriend got weird if you even looked at his phone. you couldn't remember a single guy you'd dated that would even let you hold his phone, let alone let you check who was texting him. you slide the notification panel down and see AMY flash across the screen.
"amy," you tell him, and he nods, "she says, "goodnight,""
he chuckles, "tell her i say goodnight back,"
and you do. you still feel weird. you're not sure why he trusts you. he shouldn't in all honesty. he had every right not to. your brother's alone, where a reason enough to avoid you. but here he is, having you text his niece back like it's not a big deal. and it probably isn't. but it feels like it is. it feels almost intimate. too intimate for a client. too intimate for a handyman. but you know deep down that's not what rhett is, much less has ever been to you. today has been fuckin' weird.
"y'know, i don't remember you bein' so spacey," he says casually, like it's totally normal that he remembers things about you.
"not entirely convinced that all that weed we smoked in high school was just weed." you reply waving him off.
he snorts and shakes his head at your reply. you know exactly what he means, but you're not playing that game. not tonight anyway. you pop the vhs out of the vhs player, and turn the tv off.
"where do you want this?" you ask, holding it up for him to see.
"uh, you can toss it in the glove box. probably the safest place for it." he shrugs, and you nod.
you slide past him, bracing yourself on his shoulder, his hand comes up to the small of your back to guide you past. you step outside, and round the side of his truck, opening the passenger side door. you lean over the seat, and gently set it inside—but then something catches your attention. a photograph.
no.
not a photograph. the photograph.
the one with rhett's arm around you. your breath catches in your throat. that can't be a coincidence. can it? you tuck it back where it was, and shuffle back around his truck.
"i've got all the rot off, i'm gonna replace it and then i'll need your help to hang the door." he tells you, and you nod.
you return to your abandoned sketchbook, picking it up and flipping to another page absently. you're not really paying attention to your pencil as it drags quickly across the page, when you do zone back in, you realize that you've been sketching rhett's hands... and his back... and the curve of his jaw in the moonlight. dear god, what are you doing?! definitely not what you're supposed to be sketching. you flip back to the last page, and continue adding to your half started sketches.
you're not sure how much time passes when rhett steps back into your line of sight, "alright sweetheart, i'm ready for you."
you're caught so far off guard by him calling you sweetheart that you miss the way he looks at you in that moment. it's soft, and bordering adoration—almost a perfect mirror of royal's from the video. you set everything aside, and stand up. you follow him over to the doorway, and he sets the door up, and then has you hold it from the inside. you take notice of the way he has his foot propped under the door to help steady it, and the way his fingers fiddle with the screws. he gets the first hinge secure, and then uses one hand to hold the door, and the other to maneuver you around him so you're on the other foot side.
god, that was hot. you think as you hold the door knob tightly. he finishes securing the bottom hinge, and steps back with a crooked smile. he catches your elbow, pulling you with him, your side bumping into his chest. you're so consumed by the fact that he's got you basically tucked into his chest that you miss the words coming out of his mouth.
"huh?" you say, "sorry i— i didn't catch that."
he ducks his head down closer to your ear, and you feel his warm breath slide over your neck. the sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and your brain momentarily short circuits. and his hand is on your hip. on! your! hip! and, like actually touching your skin because your shirt had ridden up ever so slightly in him pulling you back to admire the doorframe.
"i said, how does it look?"
your brain is working double time, but damn it, damn it all to hell because rhett abbott is so distracting. you swear you're losing your mind. every touch, every look, every soft smile. it's chipping away heavily at your composure—well, what little composure you think you still possess. which isn't much.
you lick your lips, and hum, "yeah, looks good, great."
his chest vibrates against your side, a soft laugh escaping him.
"glad you like it,"
you hum again, and realize you're starting to get tired. you yawn, stretching your arms up above your head, and pad back over to the counter. you tap rhett's phone screen and your jaw drops at the time. you look back at him, sleepy eyes as wide as they'll go.
"it's 3am,"
"wow, didn't realize it was so late."
"neither did i, fuck, i have an early meeting about the kids gallery."
"that's that art show the kids are putting on, right?"
"yeah, our junior kids—amy's age group actually—are putting their first one on."
you have to fight the urge to ask if he's going to come. you want him to. honestly, you just want to near him again.
"ah, yes. next week, right?" you nod, and he smiles. "amy's had us all promise we'll show up. she's very excited."
hearing that amy's excited makes you smile. amy being rhett's niece completely aside, she's definitely one of your favourite students, especially in that age group. she's so curious, and wants to learn as much as she can. it's refreshing considering most of the kids just like to make messes, and then see how many of their friends they can cover in paint.
"she's liking the class?" you ask, and he nods his head.
"yeah, it's her favourite day of the week. she's wired until she gets home, and then she just drops." you laugh at that. "she talks about you constantly."
your eyes snap up to meet his, "really?"
"yeah. she almost talks about you more than the actual class... she really looks up to you."
your heart swells with pride. that's entirely why you're doing that.
"wow. i— i don't think you realize how much that means to me."
he crosses his arms, "i think i can imagine. you talked about wanting to do this," he jerks his chin up, "all the time. every time i see you working with the kids it's like... i don't know, you've found your purpose."
you stare at him, a small smile spreading across your lips. maybe, during high school you weren't the only one feeling it. the pull. you don't really know what to say. warmth floods your chest as you step towards him. you're not really sure what you're doing until you've got your face buried in his shoulder, hugging him tightly. without hesitation he wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer.
maybe... maybe you were wrong... maybe rhett did see you.
you're miserable right now. you've just gotten out of your kids gallery meeting and you want to crawl into bed. your head is throbbing, hangover go figure, and your head just feels so heavy. you step back into your office, and immediately drop into your chair, kicking your boots off under your desk. ivy pops up over the side of her desk, leaning her head on her hands.
"what?" you groan, leaning forwards, putting your forehead onto the glass.
it's nice, soothing against your headache.
"i see the back door got fixed,"
"don't start," you reply, lifting your head to glare at her.
"what?" she asks defensively, "that was quick is all... mind you, you look like shit."
you bark a laugh, "thanks ivy, exactly what i wanted to hear..." then quietly you add, "i feel like i'm dying."
"what did you two get up to last night?" she asks wiggling her eyebrows at you.
"it's pretty hazy. i don't know, whatever it was i should likely be mortified by it. yesterday was just—embarrassing."
"i dunno, with the way he was looking at you... i don't think there's much you could do that he'd hold against you."
"cut it outttttttt. i'm serious, i'm too hungover for this. i feel like someone is stabbing me in the brain and my stomach feels like a shaken bottle of pop." you snap, but it's half-hearted, and whiney, and she just snorts at you.
"toast and coffee sound good?" she huffs, mock annoyed.
"please, i'll love your forever." you moan, dropping your head back down on the glass.
ten minutes later, she's walking into your office with white toast and hot coffee.
"ah, thank you... sometimes i forget this is literally part of your job." you say taking a small bite of the toast.
"pshhh, what? no! i just love taking care of my boyfriend's little sister." she says and you shoot her a glare. "i'm joking. i adore you. almost as much as rhett abbott does."
"ivy!"
"what?! i want you to get a piece of that hot cowboy. sue me!"
your face grows hot. she's ridiculous. and a lump is forming in the back of your throat.
"look, i saw you looking more alive than i have since you were in high school. you weren't just flowing through the motions, you were nervous and embarrassed—sure—but c'mon. that's more emotion than you've displayed in your last three relationships combined. and it's been what?" she pauses checking her watch, "16 hours since he first walked in here yesterday."
you stare at her wide eyed, and then shake your head. she sighs at you in exasperation.
"what? why can't you let yourself have this?" she's looking at you with an intensity you've never seen in her before. "what's the worst thing that could possibly happen?"
"my entire family disowns me, and i lose all three of my brothers." you choke out, then the damn breaks and you're sobbing into your hands.
"oh, shit. that won't— c'mere." she slides around your desk, and wraps her arms around her. "that won't happen. those three would lose their minds without you around. they love you so so much. besides, i'll kick luke's ass and then dump him if he ever tried to disown you. you're part of the reason i've stuck around so long. well, that and i've finally got him trained. luke loves you. he's just got a hard time sticking the landing. that's why he throws orders around. he's trying to protect you—keep you safe. he just sometimes is too focused to realize he's doing more damage than good."
your shoulders shake hard as you stuck down as much air as you can.
"and you think either of those knucklehead's could keep billy from you? he'd never let them know a day of peace, and you'd still see him regardless."
you let out a choked laugh, and she brushes your hair away from your eyes.
"in this particular situation—i think you ask for forgiveness, not permission. they'll fold when they see you happy, because that's all they want for you. even if that means having to tolerate rhett fucking abbott."
the next few days pass in a blur, after recovering from your hangover, you've been like a walking zombie, physically and emotionally drained. but, things look up during the kids gallery and it's almost entirely because amy flies into the gallery walk dragging perry and rhett at top speed over to her art work hanging up. the town had let you block off part of the street in front of the studio to put up makeshift walls. each kid had half a wall with their art they'd made throughout the school year pinned up. you and ivy had gone the extra mile and set up string lights, spotlights, and put up velvet ropes.
ivy shoots to your side, you think that she thinks she's being subtle—she's not. she looks at you wide eyed, and throws her head back—again, not being subtle whatsoever. you mirror her expression and mouth, "fucking stop." she stills, "he's looking isn't he? be subtle." you shift on your feet, peeking past her, then roll back, eyes wide again. "yeah, now fucking what?!" rhett had positioned himself so while he was listening to amy, he could stare straight forward at you, but also still seem like he was paying attention. that no one else would be able to tell he was staring at you, except for you.
"i think the phone's ringing," ivy says, brushing past you into the studio.
you manage to neutralize your expression before her quick exit, and you start forward eyes dropping to amy. she's bouncing excitedly as she explains her pieces, then she sees you—and she squeals in excitement.
"oh! ms. tillerson!"
"hi amy! and amy's family!" you say cheerfully, as rebecca, royal and cecila join amy, perry and rhett. "how are we this evenin'?"
"good," cecila says, and a ripple of nods follow. "this is such a neat idea,"
"thank you," you beam, "it was actually my brother—billy's—idea. he and luke helped build the walls, and trevor brought everything into town..."
cecila smiles softly at you, but you see that flicker in royal's eyes. amy may not care what your last name means, but royal—he despises what it stands for. perry shifts uncomfortably, rebecca gives you a tight smile. rhett's expression is unreadable, but his eyes are unmistakably still on you.
"and— and—" amy looks at you, "can i tell them—?"
"yes, absolutely," you say face growing hot from the number of eyes on you—but mostly rhett's eyes on you.
"one of my paintings is going to be auctioned at the gala!" she says excitedly, and everyone breaks out in coos of encouragement.
"the kids all voted on who's painting per age group should be auctioned—and they unanimously chose amy's. half the proceeds goes straight into a scholarship fund for the kids, and half goes to amy." you explain, "tickets for the banquet are still available—if anyone's interested."
you're rambling. you're also embarrassed, again. you smile awkwardly, and then amy grabs royal's hand and takes off across to a different wall. everyone but rhett disburses.
"that was painful, wasn't it?" you ask, and rhett rubs the back of his neck.
"you want the truth?" he smirks, and you immediately shake your head.
"no absolutely not; lie to me." you plead, crossing your arms across your chest, you're fighting the urge to bury your face in his chest.
not appropriate.
"it went, like, so well."
"you're either a terrible liar, or a shitty friend." you groan, and he laughs at you.
"shitty friend, for sure." he jokes, and you lose the ability to keep your lips from quirking up.
"i mean, at least you're an honest shitty friend. i'll take what i can get,"
there's a beat of silence before he speaks again, "it definitely could have been worse."
"oh yeah? how?" you fire back, unconvinced.
he pretends to think, and then snaps his fingers, "spontaneous combustion. you open your mouth to speak, and then just red mist."
you blink at him, and then burst out laughing, "what is wrong with you?"
"hey, made you laugh—the was the goal."
"you're ridiculous—but i appreciate it. i kind of needed that,"
"tough week?"
"yeah, ivy kicked in my back door like the hulk," you joke, and he laughs, and it's such a cute sound—almost like he's been caught off guard. "and then this guy who fixed it kept me up all night, and then i had wicked insomnia the rest of the week."
he tsks, "what an asshole,"
"i know right? and he didn't even apologize."
"oh he should definitely get on that—maybe he could, take you out for dinner to make up for it?"
you're stunned. kind of speechless. so, you nod. then your brain kicks in and you reply.
"uh, okay—i mean yeah, that could be an nice way to a-apologize."
his lips curl into that stupid soft smile, and your heart starts trying to kill you.
"oh, hey, while you're here, i finished the sketches. do you want to stay to look at them after?"
"uncle rhett!" amy yells, arms above her head trying to get his attention.
"yeah, i'd love to see them. i'll find you when perry and rebecca leave," he looks over at amy, "i'm comin',"
"sounds good," you reply, and his hand grazes your lower back as he heads over to where amy is.
you glance around, trying to be really calm about finding ivy. she's standing a few feet away at the refreshment table. you take a deep breath, and walk calmly over to where ivy is, and grab her elbow.
"wh-what? oh, dude, you scared me." she whisper yells at you, "are you breathing—?"
you take another deep breath, and realize—no, you hadn't been when the burn in your lungs eases.
"he asked me out." you hiss, and her posture goes rigid, turning slightly towards you so she can stare you down.
"i told you."
"not now," you snap, "need help!"
"with?"
"i'm freaking out ivy, like actually. i might be having a heart attack." she sighs, and pull you away from the refreshments and into the dimly lit studio.
"you're not having a heart attack, i promise. look, you're allowed to be scared, worried, piss-your-pant-terrified. but you're not allowed to let that control you—okay?"
"what if—?"
"i'll personally fight each and every member of your family. do you like him?"
you nod.
"do you like being near him?"
you nod again, breathe.
"do you want to go on this date?
you nod slowly, you really do.
"then, relax. enjoy this. it's the best part,"
you say good night to the last parent, and child. rhett's already inside, sitting in your office at your desk. doing what? you didn't know. that's just where he decided to land as some of the clean up crew began moving everything onto the trailer trevor would be picking up shortly. you pad inside, kicking your boots off by the door leading to your apartment. you step into your office, and you pause by the door way. he's in your chair, leaned back with his hands folded across his chest and his hat over his eyes. you knock softly on the door trying not to startle him.
he moves the hat back to his head, and sits up. he blinks a few times, and you smile.
"tired are we, cowboy?"
"tough week," he replies, as you round the side of the desk.
you pull out your sketchbook from a drawer, and set it on the desk in front of him. you quickly realize your mistake when you have to flip through it in front of rhett's face. not when you've been doodling him and his face since the last time you'd hung out. your fingers twitch, and rhett misreads your hesitation to open the book as unable to reach. he rolls the chair back enough to pull you down onto his lap, and then moves you both closer to the desk. he sits leaning forward with his chin on your shoulder, his chest pressed to your back. you briefly wonder if he can hear your heart slamming in your chest through the silence of your office. you corner check your pages as you try to find the right one. you would have thought you'd have learned after last time. but nope. here you are. you tilt the page a little wider to get a look.
he grunts, squinting, "what're you doin'?"
"uh," you're not sure what to say. "i— uh..."
"i think we're a little past being embarrassed, don't y'think?"
"no." you say, probably too quickly. "i'm just a walking-talking puddle of embarrassment whenever you're around,"
he chuckles, "that so?"
"yes." you shift, turning ever so slightly to look at him. "you seem to have that affect on me as of late,"
"i did happen to notice that. i don't think i've see you this flustered since high school."
"what? i was not flustered in high school." you scoff, rolling your eyes.
"you totally were. you still make the same face." you raise an eyebrow and he smiles, "it's a mix of oh god, i hope the floor opens up and swallows me whole and i think i'm gonna puke."
"whatever," you huff, catching the page you wanted to show him. "okay, so these—"
"woah," he breathes, eyes dropping to the sketch. "if these are just your rough sketches, i can only imagine how amazin' the actual painting is gonna look."
"thanks..." your face feels hot again, you're not sure how much of these compliments, coupled with how close he is, you can take. "look, there was this moment in the video, when your mom started walking down the isle—your dad had this look on his face, just... adoration. i think that we take that moment, and the moment when they had their first kiss, oh, and—"
his hands settle on your hips, "as much as i appreciate your enthusiasm... you need so stop bouncing around."
your face twists in confusion, and then it dawns on you. you're literally sitting on him. and yeah, you get bouncy when you're excited or talking passionately. you clear your throat, mumbling a tiny, embarrassed, barely audible sorry.
"nah, don't be sorry... just don't start something you're not going to finish." his chin is on your shoulder again, his breath fans across your cheek and a shiver shoots down your spine.
then you hear the soft click of heels against hardwood and ivy appears in the doorway. she freezes, eyes wide. rhett's grip on your hips tighten slightly, and then he lets go altogether.
"sorry... am i, uh, interrupting something?"
you shake your head frantically, "nope. what's up?"
"uh," she's not convinced, you can see it in her eyes. "trev just picked up the trailer. he told me to tell you that you've been "summoned"? whatever that means."
you groan, your head rolling forwards, "family meeting. could this week get any more complicated?"
"well, i've informed you. i'm heading home. i'll see you tomorrow," she waves as she heads back out, leaving you and rhett alone again.
"y'know, this is probably your fault," you grumble, forcing yourself to stand up. "we've had no reason to have a family meeting in like, i dunno, five years?"
"lil ol' me?" rhett bats his—unfairly nice—eyelashes at you, a ridiculous expression on his face and you roll your eyes.
"oh yes, lil ol' you. i've already been lectured—at length, by the way—by luke about not "fraternizing" with the "enemy". and that was before whatever's happenin' here—" you gesture between you and him, "so, i can only—"
"you look ridiculous pretty right now," you blink at him, your words dying in your throat as you look at him.
he's sitting back, one hand on the edge of the desk, one on his thigh, this legs spread and that damn smile. oh dear god. now you really think you're having a heart attack. breathe. you inhale sharply and turn away from him. you can not handle the way he's looking at you.
"you can't say shit like that," you say, turning back towards him, leaning against the glass wall.
he tilts his head, "why not?"
he licks his lips, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as his eyes rake up your body then down again before settling on your face.
"it's true." he adds, pushing himself up onto his feet.
your eyes are glued to his, and your head tilts up to watch him lean over you, one arm braced above your head. his face is so close. he just stares into your eyes—you're frozen, like a deer in headlights. he essentially has you exactly where he wants you—but he doesn't push. he can sense your hesitance, and doesn't want to scare you off.
"what're you thinkin'?" he asks you softly, his free hand settling on your shoulder, and then slowly drifting down your arm, and landing on softly on your hip.
"this is complicated," you whisper, you know he knows, but you're not sure if he's really thought through what crossing that line could mean.
you want it. want him. god, do you want him. however, one of you really needs to be the adult in this situation. be realistic. because if you kiss him, there's no going back. nothing will ever be the same, and there's no saying what could happen. you'd never again have the will power to hold yourself back. you're going to fall into his arms, and you're never going to climb back out. you know that.
"it doesn't have to be,"
"no," you laugh breathlessly, humorlessly, "but i think that decision was made for us a long time ago."
"who cares?" he replies softly, but there's an edge, like maybe he's been having the same internal struggle as you, "screw them all, let them be mad, it's none of their business."
"i—"
he's right, but there's still that gnawing worry—you love your brothers, they make that an incredibly hard task, but you do. you couldn't imagine living a life without them. it made new york difficult, manageable, but difficult. you'd moved back because you missed wyoming—the mountains, the fresh air, the stars. but just under that, was your craving for home—your brother's are your home. but, rhett fucking abbott is staring at you like you mean something, and your resolve is slipping.
"don't mistake my hesitance for disinterest, rhett," you finally say, "i want this—god do i."
"then take it," he whispers, "i'm yours. have been since high school."
your heart momentarily stops beating, then starts thumping like a kick drum. fuck it, is all that crosses your mind before you're grabbing the collar of his jacket, and pulling him forward. your lips meet, and you finally understand what people mean when they talk about fireworks. heat shoots across your skin, as his other hand drops from the wall to your other hip, pulling you flush against him. your hands slide up his neck, and your fingers card through the hair at the base of his neck. his mouth is so warm against yours and—god his lips are so soft.
and then the phone on your desk rings, cutting through the silence—startling you both. rhett's arms slide around your waist, his hands resting on your lower back as you pull apart, both of you breath hard. he smiles at you softly, and your heart squeezes in your chest. the phone rings again, and you begrudgingly pick it up.
"where the hell are you?" trevor snarls into the phone. "didn't ivy tell you—"
you glance at your watch and your eyes go wide, it's midnight.
"i'm so sorry trev," you say, "i got distracted—"
"i swear to god if it has anything to do with rhett fucking abbott, i'm going to kill him. maybe luke and i'll teach him a lesson. hangin' around our baby sister, fuck that. guy's got some fuckin' nerve."
"i beg your fucking pardon," you grit out, "trevor, you're an asshole. and you need to fucking grow up. go fuck yourself."
you slam the receiver down, great, now your first kiss with rhett will always be remembered with white hot rage quickly following.
"is now a bad time to tell you that was kind of hot," he says, and you look at him bewildered—what about that could have possibly been hot? "defending me like that, when you weren't literally just fighting with me about this exact thing ten minutes ago,"
you can't help but smile when he presses a soft kiss to your collarbone, "yeah, well like you said—you're mine, and i protect what's mine."
he lifts his head, "okay that's very hot,"
he kisses you again, and then pulls back.
"you need a ride to start the revolution?"
you shake your head, "as much as i would love to rock up with you there, i think that this is a battle i need to fight myself. besides, i think they might try and jump you."
he drop his grip on you, "probably. trevor's tried to fight me for much much less."
"oh!" you say, "your list."
he quirks an eyebrow, "my list?"
you yank the sticky note with the other broken things around the studio off your computer monitor and hand it to him, "didn't think i'd forget, did ya?"
"no, you're meticulous. i forgot about it," he admits, and you snort.
"of course, good thing you're cute." you tease, leaning up to peck his cheek. "see; bad weed."
"well, warlord, you mind if i stick around and take a crack at this?" he asks as you grab your keys from the top drawer.
"you can if you want—but it's late. you should go to sleep." you say softly, and he shakes his head.
"nope, i'm not going to sleep until you get back."
"rhett,"
"no—i pushed this, i want you to have somewhere soft to land when it's over."
you think you might just burst into tears when you lean up to kiss him one more time. you'd rather stay, fall into bed wrapped up in rhett's arms. ignore your brothers, but this can't keep going the way it has been.
"i'll be back in an hour or two," you tell him, and he nods.
you take a deep breath when you climb into your truck, tonight is going to be a fucking long one.
sam's pacing. you wonder if he's going to wear a hole in the carpet. you watch silently as he pin-pongs back and forth. five minutes pass, and when you realize that he's not slowing down anytime soon. when he scoots past the edge of the bed you're sitting on, you catch his elbow pulling him towards you.
his eyes focus, the wrinkle between his eyebrows finally easing slightly. you pat the bed, and slide onto the floor. he sinks down, and you pull the scrunchy from your hair. his eyes land on the top of your head as you lean back against the bed between his knees.
you'd known sam for years, and growing up, you didn't have anyone around to braid your hair. sam, had taken to learning how to do it for you. and over the years, it had become something of a grounding ritual. something for sam to focus on that wasn't destructive and kept him from spiraling.
sam's fingers glide through your hair, separating it into sections, "one or two?"
"up to you, samsquatch." you say, and he huffs, you can almost hear him rolling his eyes behind you.
but, hey? at least he was focusing on something else now.
SUMMARY — you're the weird tillerson girl, your brother's joke that you make billy look normal by comparison, but you don't really care. you enjoy life off the ranch, living in town and contributing to the community. your art studio is your sanctuary, and the day that rhett abbott walks in asking to commission a painting for his parents anniversary, your world flips upside down.
PAIRING — rhett abbott x fem!tillerson!reader
WORD COUNT — 3.4k
WARNINGS — swearing, tillersons?, pining, reader is extremely embarrassed, no mentions of y/n — is referred to as "my girls" (by luke) & tillerson (by rhett), bearly proofread (we die like men)
A/N — i am on episode three of outer range, please be kind to me, ALSO LEWIS PULLMAN,, THE MAN YOU ARE.
MASTERLIST
shock doesn't even begin to cover what flashes through your chest when you see rhett abbott sitting in the front waiting area of your studio. you're sitting in the main office, sifting through paperwork when you feel eyes on the side of your face. you're alone, or you should be. your assistant is out running errands, and you weren't running any art classes today. so, feeling eyes on you, set you on edge. then, you look up, eyes catching on a familiar face. not necessarily an unwelcome one—your brothers might not feel the same—by your standards at least. just, rhett is the last person you'd ever expect to be here.
you've been staring too long. you stand up, straightening your shirt as you walked through the glass doors, and out into the small waiting area. he stands immediately, pulling his hat off.
"abbott," you say, "what brings you in?"
he looks almost conflicted for a moment, like maybe he's rethinking his decision to walk in here. you can hardly say you blame him. your families have been feuding for years, long before either of you'd been born.
"i, uh," he starts, then clears his throat. "i'd like to commission something... if you have time."
now that, surprises you even more. you'd known rhett socially in high school. he'd been friends with some of your friends, and their boyfriends. it was inevitable that you'd cross paths, well, that and you'd lived next door to his family your whole life. you'd been the weird tillerson girl; the quiet one covered in paint, sketchbook like an extension of you, barely rooted in reality. even two of your older brothers had made comments about you making your other brother, billy, look normal. you didn't care about ranching, the politics of it, or the money. you especially didn't care about the money.
after high school, you'd took off to new york to study art. but, four years later, you returned to wabang. you'd felt like you'd left half of yourself behind when you left, and that had nothing to do with the ranch, or, selfishly, your family. you'd just missed wyoming. wabang was your home. so, begrudgingly, with your trust fund, you'd purchased a building in town, and turned it into an art studio, a non-profit that helped bring art back to your hometown. you'd helped fund the severely lacking art department at your former high school, and helped build a warm, caring community for the next generation of artists.
you'd crossed paths with rhett and the other abbott's upon your return, but it was different. while before, most people respected you solely for your last name, tillerson's weren't to be fucked with, much less you, the whimsical, soft spot of your down-right scary older brothers. but now? you weren't just the weird tillerson girl. you were an active, loved, member of the community. you stood on your own two legs, not propped up by your family's legacy. you were consciously carving your own path forward.
the abbott's had always been kind to you, especially cecilia, and later, amy. who frequented your art classes, a trail of questions about shading, technique and many other things falling from her, that you'd answer patiently, and warmly. rhett you'd seen around; nights at the bar, or bull riding. but, this might be the first time he'd looked you in the eyes and actually spoke to you since high school.
"i've got time," you reply, tilting your head. "why don't you follow me,"
you turn, walking back into the main office. you quickly gather your paperwork up into a stack, and tuck it away. you bend sideways, pulling your portfolio out from one of the desk drawers as rhett settled, uncomfortably in the chair in front of your desk.
"i don't often get commissions anymore unless they're huge ass murals for the town," you admit, setting the binder down. "what were you thinking?"
"it's my parents wedding anniversary in a couple of months," he says, eyes trained on your hands, which are folded on top of the binder in front of you. "my mom, she, uh,"
his blue eyes flick up to meet yours.
"y'know those live painting's that they do now adays?"
you nod, "sure, i've done a few of them over the years,"
"i overheard her talking to rebecca, and she'd really wished she'd known that was a thing when she and my dad got married. so i was wondering, if i got the video of their wedding, if you might be able to recreate their first dance or something,"
your eyes light up, "yes. oh i'd love to do it."
he chuckles at your enthusiasm, lips quirking up, "my only concern,"
you know where this is going, "cost?"
he nods, "what's the damage gonna be?"
you take a deep breath and sit back, "that kind of depends on three things. medium; acrylic, oil or water colour. detail. and what exactly you're looking for. i can do mock up's, uh, sketches to give you an idea of what it could look like, but it'll be vague because you won't be able to see how the paint looks."
"sure," he's chewing on his bottom lip as he mulls over what you've said.
rhett is way out of his depth here, you know that, and so does he. so you lean forward, and flip open the binder.
"i can show you some finished examples. again, it'll give you an idea of what it could look like." he nods again, focusing in on your hands ghosting over the plastic lined pages.
you flip to an acrylic painting you'd done years ago, it was actually of rhett. something in your chest flared, embarrassment maybe? at the time, you hadn't realized it was him. you'd been sitting in the stands snapping pictures, and sketching what you saw. you'd gotten home that night, and stayed up until dawn. billy had come into your room to fetch you for breakfast when his eyes landed on the finished painting sitting on your easel. he'd tilted his head to the side, "why'd you paint rhett abbott?" he'd asked.
your eyes had flashed to the cowboy's back, scrunching your face up. "it's not... what?" billy had stepped up to the drying canvas, and pointed to the dark blue shirt, and then to the number. "abbott was the only one wearing blue last night," he'd said it so matter-of-factly that it left your face burning. of course billy of all people would notice that rhett was the only bull rider in blue that night. billy hadn't teased you, he'd just mutter "breakfast" and left, a melody following him as he swept out of your room.
your face is hot, as you flick past the page, settling on a different page. dear god, did he notice that? did he recognize himself? it was a long time ago. hopefully he hadn't. okay, maybe you'd noticed rhett a bit more than you were letting on, but you'd been warned about the abbott's your whole life. so, your pull towards rhett had been shoved down, ignored. you'd broken all kinds of family rules, shattered expectations, but getting close to the abbott's wouldn't break a rule, it would be setting your life on fire, and probably mean losing your brother's in the process. there'd be no coming back from that betrayal.
anyway, who's to say that rhett even saw you. you were strictly off limits in his family too. royal was polite to you when he'd occasionally pick amy up from class, but you could see the distain in his eyes clear as day. it was the same way he looked at your brothers, and father. you can't force your eyes up to see, you just tap the page, and turn the binder so he can see it better. it's your eldest brother luke, sitting on his favourite horse, staring out over one of your family's pastures.
"this would be an example of what water colour might look like," you say, wanting to disappear into the floor.
"wow," he mutters, leaning forward to get a better look. "you painted that?"
your chest tightens, "uh, yeah... it was for luke's graduation."
you lift a chunk of pages up, and flip it over, stopping on a family portrait you'd done of your family last year. your mother had been dropping hints about wanting one of all six of you to hang up over the fireplace for months, so, you'd forced your brothers into posing for reference shots, and then for her birthday you'd given it to her.
"this is from last year. i used oil paints. heavier canvas, and longer drying times."
you're barely getting through this consultation, and you're praying that your assistant, ivy would hurry her ass up. at least you'd have a buffer. you can feel his eyes on you again, and you flip to another print, the last one.
"this," you say, trying really hard to keep the nerves from leaking into your voice. "would be acrylic."
his eyes trail back down to the binder, and the silence that stretches has your heart in your throat. you'd just flipped. you didn't look. your eyes snap to the page, and your heart slams into your ribcage. good god. it's a piece you'd completely forgotten about all together. it's... well, you and rhett, and few other friends. an example portrait you showed in your intermediate classes, a group photo. it had been the best photo of yourself you'd ever seen. you were tucked into rhett's side, free arm tossed casually over your shoulder as he tried to make room for everyone.
it wasn't how you normally saw yourself in the slightest; you were smiling big, radiant beside him. if anything, it was how you wished to be seen. your reference photo for this one had been from yours and rhett's senior year. and if you remember correctly, rhett had taken it. a throw away group photo you hadn't thought about in years.
it was early june, you were at a field party your friends had dragged you along to and you'd stood on the outskirts taking pictures for the yearbook, trying to keep it pg. when rhett had snuck up behind you, stolen the camera from your hands and had called over your friends to get in. "you're always takin' pictures tillerson, you should be in some," he'd winked at you. winked. it had caught you so off guard that you'd laughed, and he'd managed to capture that moment. you still had the original photo stuck to your fridge, a small memento of simpler times.
"i remember this," rhett says, finger siding over his face, and then yours. "you were takin' pictures for the yearbook."
you swallow hard, trying and failing to calm yourself again. embarrassed seems to be the theme for today.
"yeah," you mumble, face burning. "uh, anyway,"
you shift uncomfortably in your seat, and then snap the book closed. need to fuckin' strip your portfolio of everything. you'd never been this embarrassed in your life. you'd shown these pieces to everyone who'd ever been interested in your art, and had never. never. felt this way about it. you finally lift your eyes up, and he's already looking at you. you're trying so damn hard to be professional, but you know the minute he leaves you're going to start throwing things.
"what were you thinking? do you have a preference?" you ask, voice small as you tear your eyes away from his, busying yourself with tucking your portfolio back into the drawer.
"i think i liked the oil paint, but you said that was more time consumin' so i'm guessin' that means more expensive?"
you nod, scrunching your face. then you hear a loud crash from the back of the studio, and you're on your feet, all but running, rhett hot on your heels. ivy's standing by the back door... well at least there used to be a door there. now, it's laying flat on the floor just a few inches from the doorway. ivy's got her arms hooked through bag handles, and a cardboard tray of iced coffees in her free hand.
"shit! sorry," ivy says, staring at you wide eyed. "i just, i tried to open the fuckin' door and it came off it's hinges.
you sigh, "it's fine. are you okay?"
she nods, "scared the shit outta me, but yeah, all good... uh, who's your shadow?"
she tips her chin forward, gesturing to rhett, who you're now hyperaware is directly behind you. he slips past you, hand brushing your lower back as he goes. you step forwards easing some of the bags out of ivy's grip. setting them down on the counter by the doorway. she flashes you a look that says he's hot. and you just shake your head sending her a pointed, not now look. rhett bends down, in the doorway, and then scoffs.
"the wood around the frame looks like it's rottin', it's gonna have to be replaced." rhett straightens, picking the door up off the floor and setting it back into place. "it can stay like that, but you're gonna have to use the front door 'til it's fixed."
you groan, rubbing your temples, this is the last thing you need right now. you've got a gallery coming up, and then the town gala afterwards. you've really got no time to be chasing down a handyman or contractor, or whoever you're going to need to come in to fix this until later. and having a back door that falls in when you try and open it, means you're more likely to get broken into. not that the studio has much money floating around, but your art supplies are pretty pricey. especially when you live two hours from the closest art supply store.
"great," you laugh humorlessly, "just fuckin' great."
"i can, uh, fix it. for you?" rhett offers awkwardly, clearing his throat.
your head snaps over to look at him, "seriously?"
"yeah," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
"you do this, i'll wave the cost of your commission."
his eyes widen, "really? wait— no. i couldn't—"
"rhett, i need this back door fixed, and i really don't have any time to call around and find someone. you'd really be helping me out."
"ok, uh, just, this is gonna take a couple hours, i don't think that's really fair."
"we have other things that are falling apart if you're that worried about fair," ivy cuts in, and you cast a sideways glance at her. "what?"
you mull it over. ivy's not exactly wrong. there's plenty of stuff that needs fixing, tables falling apart, cabinet doors that have long since fallen off. your concern is having rhett this close, for an extended period of time. you can already hear the small town gossip, and the heated arguments at your family dinner table over it. the back door needs fixed. rhett can't afford your services. win-win. sort of. you sigh, against your better judgement you nod.
"she's right, we can trade. i'll give you a list of shit that needs fixin' and i'll do the painting's."
rhet smirks at you, "i think that'll work,"
you stick your hand out towards him, and he shakes it.
"you got somethin' to put in front of this in the mean time? somethin' big." rhett asks, and you turn, eyes scanning the room.
you settle on a paint cabinet, you gesture to it, and he nods. he follows you over, and while ivy scoots out of the way, the pair of you slowly shift it over to be in front of the doorway. once it's secured, you hear your eldest brother luke's voice echo from the front of the studio. damn it. damn it all to hell. what is my fuckin' luck today? you glance at rhett who's smile has disappeared, and you shuffle out to the front, ivy and rhett trailing behind you. he's standing in the hallway between the office and the waiting area.
"luke," you say, trying to gauge his mood based on his posture.
what ever mood he was in is instantly soured when his eyes land on rhett.
"what's he doin' here?" his voice is laced with venom, as he glares you down.
"he's a customer," you snap back, meeting his energy. "he was placin' an order when the back door nearly took ivy out,"
luke relaxes ever so slightly, eyes landing on ivy, "you okay, sweetheart?"
she nods, "yeah. fine."
"what are you doin' here anyway?" you ask, annoyance dripping from your voice as you cross your arms over your chest.
"came to pick my girls up for lunch," he says, and you check your watch.
it's noon alright. you'd entirely forgotten you'd agreed to going to lunch with ivy and luke. you really don't feel like going now. not when you'd already been dreading family dinner tonight, much less the third-degree you were likely going to get over lunch. you're not hungry now.
"luke, i have to finish this consult, and honestly i'm not very hungry. you and ivy go ahead,"
he sighs at you, but ivy ducks back behind rhett and then reappears with her purse. she hooks her arm through luke's, sensing the hostility. ivy's always been good at reading your brother, you think that's part of the reason they work so well. she shoots you and rhett an apologetic smile, and mouths "i'll bring you back some fries," with a wink before tugging luke out of the studio to his truck.
you relax, arms dropping to your sides, "fuckin' hell, today's been goddamn interesting."
you sigh, and turn to head back into your office, jumping slightly because you'd managed to forget that rhett was standing right behind you.
"jesus, sorry." you laugh, "i forgot you were here,"
"i can see that," he chuckles, as you side step him to go back into the office.
"so, uh, if you can get me the video before the end of the week, i think i can get you some sketches by mid next week and we can finalize everything before i start. how's that sound?" you ask, sliding back into your seat to grab your planner to start marking your timeline in.
"sounds good. when do you want me to start on the door frame?" he asks, sliding back into the seat across from you, picking his hat back up and setting on his lap.
"uh, i guess that depends on when you're free. i know you're busy with the ranch and, training?" you mumble, glancing up at him.
"yeah, usually have a clear schedule around 7-8ish?" he says, his gaze set firmly on you.
"okay, well, i live upstairs, so, whenever you're free you can slide by."
his eyebrows pull together, "you don't live on the ranch anymore?"
you inhale sharply, shaking your head, "uh. no. i moved out six months ago. couldn't handle everything going on with dad, and trevor and luke. besides, i really liked living by myself after i left new york. craved the freedom of being able to walk around no matter the hour without anyone breathing down my neck."
he chuckles at that, "that i get."
he shifts in his seat, and you nod.
"so, i guess that's everything. unless you have any questions for me?"
he shakes his head, then pauses, "can i see your portfolio again?"
your blood runs ice cold, as you nod. it feels nervous, it probably looks awkward from the outside as you slip the binder back out from it's spot, passing it over the table. at this point, you doubt you could get any more embarrassed. duking it out with luke wiped out the last of your energy. you can't help but watch him out of the corner of your eye as he flips through the pages. your heart's in your throat when you see see the page he stops on. oh fuckin' christ. he knows. he smirks to himself, and then hands you the book back, and your heart slams into your ribcage.
his fingers brush yours as you take it back, and snap it closed. then he stands, placing his hat back on his head. he steps around the chair, resting his hands on the back at he looks down at you--towers over you.
"your number still the same as in high school, or did you change it?" he asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looks at you.
you're certain he knows your flustered, you can feel the heat creeping back up your neck as you shake your head. "nope, still the same."
"great, i'll text you when i'm on my way over," he winks at you, fucking winks, before heading out of the studio.
you wait until the door clicks closed, and drop your head down on top of the desk, smacking your forehead against the glass. you want to scream.
you pop another candy into your mouth, and squint at dean across the room. you're sitting on the motel bed, your legs stretched out in front of you, crossed at the ankle, with your sketchbook in your lap, pencil lazily dragging across the page. you'd been trying to finish a sketch of dean for the last hour, but your reference kept moving.
"can you hold still?" you ask, finally dropping your pencil.
"huh?" dean looks up from the disassembled gun in his hands, eyes landing on you.
"i'm trying to finish this, an' you keep moving," you huff out, and dean smirks at you, setting what's in his hands softly on the table.
he stands, toes off his boots, and you smile softly, shifting your sketch book onto the nightstand along with your half eaten bag of candy. he kneels on the bed, and then flops forward on top of you. he turns his head, his eyes on your lips. his eyes flick up to meet yours, and he shimmies forward, pressing his lips to yours.
when he pulls away he's smirking again, "you taste like cinnamon,"
"mhmm, candy," you mumble, tilting your head towards the nightstand.
he drops his head down onto your chest, and you smile, bringing your hands up to his head. you thread your fingers through his hair, and he groans when your nails graze his scalp. you knew that this was exactly what he was looking for when he dropped on top of you. he denies it tooth and nail, but big bad dean winchester loves head scratches.
you continue to run your fingers back and forth, nails lightly digging in every so often. and dean just lays there, soaking it all in until— a soft snore falls from his lips, and your heart squeezes in your chest. your sweet, tired boy. he deserves this. peace.
SUMMARY — after being deemed a "distraction" by john winchester, you were swiftly removed from dean's life. unfortunately, john lied to you both. classic john.
PAIRING — dean winchester x fem!reader
WORD COUNT — 5.1k
WARNINGS — angst, lies, mentions of john winchester, death, kidnapping, she/her pronouns but like no descriptions of reader (other than her hands being smaller than bobby's), murder, more than one pov (bounces back and forth between yours & sam/dean's), idiots in love ?, mutual pinning, age gap (reader is early 20's, dean is late 20's), pg 13 cursing, friends to strangers, strangers to something more?
A/N — say it with me y'all; FUCK. JOHN. WINCHESTER. incase there was any confusion at all; this is, and will always be a john winchester hate page.
MASTERLIST
YOU
the bar is crowded. and loud. you wince when someone brushes against you. you attempt side-stepping them, but they seem to mirror your movements. you bite back the urge to just straight up shove the person, and step back again. you quickly weave your way through the crowd towards the bar. you quickly find your way towards the back, to an open booth away from prying eyes, and it gives you the best view of both the front exit, and the back. you slide into the booth, dropping your bag onto the bench seat beside you, and you sit back sighing. you glance around, and then yank your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table.
you boot it up, and your notes and open pages load, popping up. you'd been scratching your head pretty hard on this case, the kid who "saw" it happen hadn't exactly been the most reliable source, and you were so close to writing him off. but then an idea pops into your head, maybe you could hack into the city's cctv cameras. your fingers hover over your keyboard when you heard your name. your head jerks up, eyes quickly scanning, and landing on two familiar faces.
"sam! dean!" you say, a small smile spreading over your face as you close your laptop and slide it over.
you slide out of the booth, and lean into sam's open arms giving him a tight hug before pulling away to look at dean. dean, who's jaw is set, and his eyes are half-squinted, like he's trying to figure out if you're actually here. you glance at sam, who glances at his brother, before looking back to you and shrugging.
"uh, it's good to see you. how are you?" sam asks, sliding into the booth opposite you.
"i'm good, great actually. how are you? i thought you were at stanford?" you say, side-eying dean as he finally slides into the booth beside sam.
sam's jaw twitches, and you mentally kick yourself. something had to have happened, why else would sam be here, in minnesota, with dean? you'd been there when sam and john had it out. you'd witnessed the entire blow out, and it had been hard. for sam. for john. for dean. for you. sam had been your best friend from the time you'd met at 11 (you) and 13 (sam). you'd been damn near inseparable. sure, the pair of you'd kept in touch over the years; mostly by email. one a month, that quickly turned into quarterly life updates before you'd gotten too busy to notice sam wasn't emailing you at all anymore.
you hadn't seen sam since he'd left, but you knew he'd been happy. excited for his life with jess, and to finally become a lawyer. all the emails you'd read had given you the impression that sam was never returning to life as you'd known it before he left. you'd been a bit sad about it at the time, missing your best friend. but you loved him enough to let him go. in all honestly, you'd never expected to see him again, much less hunting. yet, here he was. with dean. hunting.
"yeah... well..." he trails off, his eyebrows pulling together in discomfort.
"life." you supplement, and he nods, a small smile returning.
"and you, mr. broody. how are you?" you ask, feeling dean's eyes staring holes into your face.
he doesn't answer, and you roll your eyes, sitting back and crossing your arms. okayyyyy. what did you do to dean winchester to deserve the silent treatment and the glare? you think hard on it for a few moments, and come up empty. the last time you saw dean, wasn't all that long after sam had left for stanford. maybe two, three weeks. as far you knew, you'd left things pretty amicably. you'd had a big fat crush on him, and he'd been oblivious. dean had always been kind to you; he treated you like any older brother would treat his kid brother's kid best friend. maybe a little nicer than most older brothers, seeing as you'd been through a lot when you'd wound up in john winchester's care.
"so, what brings you to hibbing?" sam asks, eyes darting between dean's unusually intense stare and you.
"same thing as you, i reckon—you guys speak to the kid?" you ask, deciding to ignore dean.
two can play this game.
sam rolls his eyes, "yeah. not entirely sure it's our kind of gig, but we're making sure our bases are covered."
you nod, "sure. any leads?"
sam huffs, sliding what looks like john's journal out of his jacket, "dad made some connections, but..." he flips through the pages, spinning it towards you.
you tip your head down, eyes flitting over the page. phantom attacker. followed by some lore you'd already come across in your initial search after talking to the kid. you nod, looking back up.
"the thought had crossed my mind, but i'm honestly not so convinced." you shrug, "that being said, i did see some camera's in the lot. i think that might be a good place as any to start, right?"
"i need a drink," dean mumbles abruptly sliding out of the booth.
"sorry," sam says, pink spreading across his cheeks. "i don't know what his problem is, he was fine twenty minutes ago."
you shrug, "i stopped trying to figure your brother out years ago,"
"so, uh, dean said you'd went off to bobby's after i left... when he showed up, i was half expecting you to be there with him," sam chuckles, and your stomach sinks.
bobby had been great. you'd genuinely enjoyed living with him while you'd finished high school, he'd been like the father figure you'd never had. he taught you how to cook (though he himself admitted you were way better than he was, even when you first started out), how to shoot a gun, and was your go to hunting partner when you needed one. he'd even confessed to you when you went out into the world, that he'd begun to see you as his daughter. that had nearly broke you. your own father had walked out just months prior to everything that had transpired. he'd run off with your babysitter, how cliche.
but bobby? a man with absolutely no connection to you, and no real motivation to help you—let alone take you in and raise you had loved you like his own. it both broke something in you, and healed something. you'd finally had a family again, even if it was tiny, it was yours.
"yeah..." you trail off, not sure if this is how you want to spend the night.
tearing your best friend's father apart, when at your best guess, he and dean were trying to track john down. sam already has enough distain for john, you really don't need to add to pile. while john wasn't a perfect man, he did save your life.
"kind of," you mumble, as dean returns to the table, surprisingly, carrying not two, but three beers.
"so, you figure it out yet? or is the nerd squad getting rusty?" dean asks, not looking at you.
he pushes the beer towards you, and sam's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. you take the beer, and make a show of staring dean down as you take a swig. his eyes finally meet yours, and his left eye twitches. oh, he's pissed at you.
"no," sam says, "and i told you to stop calling us the nerd squad."
dean rolls his eyes, and takes a drink. he mumbles something under his breath, and sam reaches out and smacks his arm.
"okay... cctv it is," you reply, sliding your laptop back across the table, and popping it open.
you kind of wish this wasn't happening. you'd always kind of wondered what would happen when you saw dean again, but.. this? this hadn't even crossed your mind as an option. he'd never been so standoffish with you... well, after he'd gotten to know you he hadn't. he'd actually been quite protective. you frown when your laptop doesn't whirl to life.
"shit, i think it's dead... and i forgot my charger at the motel." you grumble, snapping it shut again. "sorry, guess that's a bust for now."
"great." you hear dean grunt.
"what is your problem?" you ask, voice icy as you stare him down. "cause last i recall, i didn't do anything to you."
he looks up at you, irritation written all over his face, "you left."
you feel like you just got slapped as you stare at him, mouth falling open, but all the words bouncing around your head die when you see the irritation flash to something softer—then his expression steels again. he stands up, and heads towards the pool table.
"left?" you repeat, confusion eating away at you. "i didn't friggin'—"
you take a deep breath, shaking your head. you look back at sam, who looks just about as confused as you feel. you knock back the rest of your beer, and give sam an apologetic look.
"i can't deal with this right now, i just... let's regroup tomorrow, grab coffee, or breakfast and i'll make sure my laptop's charged. we'll review the footage together, okay?"
"yeah... look i'm—"
"don't you dare apologize for dean. you know how i feel about that." you tell sam, "i don't know what he's talking about, but i'm— i'll figure it out. i'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
he nods, and you pat his hand as you roughly shove your laptop back into your bag and head for the door. you yank your keys from your pocket, and walk across the dark parking lot to your truck. dean. friggin' dean. you think. what was he going on about? you left? as you recall, that's not how that happened at all. you pull open the driver side, and toss your bag onto the passenger seat. something startles you, making you drop your keys. you hear a cat hiss, and roll your eyes. you lean down to pick them up, but can't seem to see them. you sigh, pulling a flashlight out of the door, and click it on. you lean back down, and then suddenly, everything goes dark.
THEM
dean squints, eyes adjusting to the dark, his eyes trail over the parking lot, and immediately land on your truck. you'd left an hour ago. he was sure that's what sam had said. he looks back and sees sam following behind him, "sam," he points at your truck, and sam's eyebrows pull together in confusion.
"that's not... she left?"
the pair of them walk up on either side of your truck, "dean, her laptop bag is inside..."
dean sees something shiny in the moonlight, and bends down to pick it up—your keys. dean straightens, looping your keys around his index finger. eyes lingering on the small silver crow charm hanging from it. it had been a gift he'd given you years ago. an inside joke really, him poking fun at your small collections of trinkets and pretty rocks you'd collected. he'd given it to you for your birthday, days before life imploded.
"sam," he sticks his hand out, "keys."
"shit," sam says, hazel eyes filling with worry.
dean might never admit it, let alone out loud, but he is panicking.
YOU
you groan, your eyes sliding open. your head hurts, like, really hurts. you're laying in what feels like straw, and— you're laying in straw. straw. you shuffle up into a sitting position, and realize you're in a cage. great. a friggin' cage. perfect.
"morning sunshine," you hear to your left, and you jerk your head sideways.
"wait— are you jenkins?" you ask, shuffling closer to the bars.
"yeah,"
"oh... i was looking for you."
"yeah?" he scoffs, and your face burns as you realize that might not be very comforting to hear. "well you found me, now what?"
you don't reply, looking around. it's pretty dark so you're pretty limited in your assessment. there's no way you're going to be able to break your way out—they'd taken your jacket, which meant they had all of your shit, lockpick (not helpful in this situation), knife (could be potentially very helpful) amongst other things. you shuffle toward the lock, and try to examine it. electric, and automatic. no dice. shit. you're beginning to panic. you hadn't checked in with bobby last night. you'd left the bar— wait, sam and dean. they have to know you're missing. you made plans last night. sam knows you would never just skip town after making plans. dean's attitude or otherwise. things were going to be ok. right?
THEM
sam is sifting through a couple hours of footage, you'd left the bar a few hours before them, so he had to carefully wade through it. dean was sitting on the edge of the bed behind him, your key ring still wrapped around his index finger. he'd barely said a word since they'd broken into your room four hours ago. he'd just sat on the edge of the bed, staring. sam's beginning to get worried about dean. his worry about you has been momentarily put on hold, because his mind is distracted by both the footage, and dean's unusual silence. he only ever gets quiet when he's about to blow up, and this time, sam knows it's not going to be directed at him.
"so, what was with last night?" sam asks, pausing the footage, and glancing over his shoulder.
dean's eyes flick up, landing on your duffle bag sitting on the dresser across from him. he sighs, and straightens, rolling his shoulders before standing up and shoving your keys into his pocket.
"did you find anything?" dean grunts, dropping into the chair opposite sam at the table.
"dean," sam says, voice pleading. "what is going on with you? you've been weird since you saw her."
dean looks down at his feet, jaw tense, "a couple weeks after you... left. for stanford, so did she. told dad she wanted out, she didn't wanna hunt. didn't want to be a part of the life. wanted away from us... from me."
sam almost misses that last part, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. you'd adored dean. you'd never said it out loud, but it was obvious to your best friend from around the time you'd turned fourteen. you'd watched his older brother's every move, unconsciously started even mirroring some of dean's mannerisms. you'd been like dean's shadow right up until sam had left. if anything, sam knowing dean had you made leaving just slightly easier because he knew you'd push dean to be better, kinder, and help deprogram some of the shit that john had drilled into dean since mary had died.
he'd already seen it first hand. how dean's tough guy persona melted a little with you around. you'd been through so, so much when john had dropped you into sam and dean's lives. and yeah, dean had initially been pretty pissed about having you around; another mouth to feed, another kid to worry about, protect. when you'd cried yourself to sleep the first week, dean's annoyance about you had softened. dean understood what you were feeling. and seeing you silently cry yourself to sleep every night had gotten under his skin. so, dean distracted you, made you laugh, included you. and somewhere along the way, you became family. and sam and dean wouldn't have traded you for the world.
when sam had put his foot down, deciding to leave, he'd asked you to go with him. you'd both been through more than anyone your age should have been put through, and he was prepared to figure out how to get you through high school, and juggle university at the same time. but, when your eyes immediately landed on dean in the distance, he knew you weren't going anywhere. you didn't care if dean ever saw you as anything other than sam's sometimes annoying best friend, you didn't want to live in a world where you didn't know if dean was dead or alive. and leaving with sam? that meant never seeing dean again, and always thinking in the back of your mind that he might not be.
"are you friggin' crazy?" sam finally snaps, and dean's head snaps up, confusion pulling at his features. "she's been in love with you since she was fourteen dean. i— i was going to take her with me when i left. get her settled, live a normal life. she didn't want to go. she didn't have to say it, but it was obvious that she'd rather die than live a life you weren't apart of, even if that meant just being your friend. she never would have left you willingly."
"but... dad..." his voice is soft, and his eyebrows are pulled tightly together. "son of a bitch."
dean stands up, and shoves the chair back. he's so damn angry. he wants to break something. he takes a deep breath. find you, then crash out. his hands are still shaking, but he tries his best to force it back down.
his eyes flash to sam, "finish watching the cctv, we need to find her."
YOU
the barn door opens, grey light flooding in, it's impossible to tell what time of day it is. it's been a few hours at least, that much is obvious. your breath catches in your throat, they're human. two men in grubby hunting gear with mud smudged across their faces step into view. one stands in the doorway, the other crosses to jenkin's cage, and shoves a cattle prod in, forcing him backwards. he opens the cage door, and drops a plate onto the ground before swinging the door shut, and rearming the system before both men disappear back outside, the barn door creaking closed behind them.
humans. go figure. crazy friggin' humans. demons, ghosts, vampires, ghouls, even werewolves you understood. but humans? unpredictable, and genuinely batshit insane. this is just getting worse by the second. your mind begins racing. you might actually die here. you just got your best friend back—barely—and while dean's not exactly speaking to you, you just got him back as well. dying before figuring out what exactly's got dean's boxers in a bunch is really just icing on the fucked up mushy pile of shit cake the universe has continuously handed to you. you briefly wonder if you'd still be in this situation if you'd taken sam up on his offer. then shake your head, if sam had left stanford to hunt with dean again, you'd have willingly left with them. so, chances are, yes, you'd likely still be in this situation... or maybe sam would be. who knows.
go figure though, you'd survived some of the worst shit the supernatural world could throw at you, only for you to die on some grungy redneck farm in buttfuck minnesota. you snort, almost morbidly amused by your current predicament.
"you're pretty calm for a girl locked in a cage staring inevitable death in the face," jenkins says between bites of whatever slop they'd given him.
"definitely not the first awful situation i've ended up in the year," you grumble, "almost died twice last month... besides, i have people looking for me."
even you notice the way your voice shakes a little at the end.
"convincing." jenkins replies, then the door of his cage unlocks, swinging open. "awesome,"
you shuffle back towards the bars, "hey, i really don't think that's a good idea—"
"i'll get help, i promise." he says, but you have this gut feeling he's not going to make it very far.
he scoots out of the barn, leaving you alone.
you left. it's echoing in your head now. is that really what dean thought happened? is that what john had actually told him? because that's far from the truth. which, you suppose is very on brand for john. classic john, really. knowledge is power, which made john the puppeteer of yours, sam and dean lives. he told you only what you needed to know, nothing more. you didn't leave. you'd never leave... not dean. not ever.
you were fifteen. hopelessly in love with the eldest winchester boy, but happy to be seen as his sidekick if that's the only place you fit in his life. that's what john had always implied you were, just a sidekick. while you stayed by yourself in lonely motel rooms, finishing high school between small towns and secret part-time jobs, dean had always called to check in when he had a minute. making sure you were okay, what classes you were liking best, if you'd made any new friends. sometimes, he just called to hear your voice—remind himself that despite sam being gone, he still had you counting on him.
and then a few weeks later, after he'd packed your things for you, and shoved them into the impala while dean was in the shower, he'd dropped a bomb on you that ripped your life apart. "you're just a distraction, dean can't have you around anymore." he bit out, voice ice cold. you were accustom to the winchester steel by the point, but something about the way john spoke so coldly to you, sent you spiraling. he'd been distant, but never so cruel. you didn't believe his words at first, "he said that?" you'd asked, bottom lip quivering as you tried so damn hard to keep the tears back.
john didn't do, tears. you learned that early on. tears meant you were weak. and you couldn't be weak, let alone in front of a shark like john. "he knows it's the right decision," john had replied, and you had resigned to the idea that dean didn't want you around anymore. not realizing that john had slipped. you'd been so upset, and had been trying to hard to keep it together that you hadn't realized that john hadn't exactly answered your question.
when john pulled up to bobby's house, bobby was standing in the yard, waiting for you. bobby helped you gather your things, and then guided you into the house, throwing a scorching glare sideways at john's car as it peeled out of the yard once you'd disappeared inside. the first couple of weeks had been torturous. both for you, and bobby (and dean, where ever he was in the midwest). bobby because he basically had a ghost living with him, a sad, sad little ghost. and you, because for the first time since your family had died four years prior, you were alone, without sam and dean winchester. the two boys who'd sewed you back together, when they didn't really need to, but they did.
after the first month, you were a little less sad, and a little less ghostly. bobby didn't know the whole story, but he knew john winchester well enough to know whatever it was, it was likely more cruel than it needed to be. slowly, very, very slowly you started opening up. it started with bobby not being able to fix something on his truck, his hands were just slightly too big for the job, and lucky him, he had you and your just small enough hands for the job. you'd spent the afternoon in the yard helping him, laughing and cursing in the warm air. you weren't sure if it was bobby, or the fresh air, but that marked the end of your wallowing.
you'd thrown yourself into your school work, even taking on tutoring some kids—who eventually became your friends. you were starting to act like a teenager again, and not some war-torn hunter. though, under it all, you still were that. life was becoming fun again, but every so often you'd see something that reminded you of dean. a shiny rock, or a crow. but it wasn't burning, and clawing at your heart anymore. it was a dull ache, you'd figured would always be there—which was almost comforting, knowing that even without him, he was still with you, in your heart.
when you got your license, bobby let you tear through the scrap yard and pick any junker to fix up. you'd settled on a black ford f150. the body was in good enough shape, but it took a year to get running. by that point you'd long since graduated, dean almost nearly in your rearview mirror, and hunting the bitch that killed your family, stole your childhood and ruined everything being the only thing keeping you tugging along. you didn't seek dean or john out, you'd prayed you'd never run into them for a long time. and you didn't... until last night. when dean accused you of leaving. as if you'd have had the willpower.
you hear your name, soft, worried. your eyes snap open, and you see sam crouching by the door of the cage, and relief floods you.
"oh my god, sam," you breath out, he looks so relieved to see you.
"are you okay?" he asks, checking you over while dean searches for a release to get your cage open.
"mostly, my head hurts, but otherwise, i'm okay." you tell him, hand grabbing onto his knuckles, "sam,"
"yeah?" he asks, big hazel eyes, look down at you.
"they're human."
"great, just friggin' great," dean grumbles, turning to look at the pair of you. "humans, friggin' humans. and we need a key to get her out,"
sam takes a deep breath, and nods, "we'll be back."
"o-okay," you mumble, panic rising in your chest again, and dean tilts his head at your tone.
a conflicted look passes over his face, before he just nods in your direction, eyes meeting yours. you nod back, and squeeze sam's knuckles again before they disappear back outside. you keep your guard up, and try to keep your breathing steady. there are at least two people, sam and dean can manage that. you just hope that that's all that's waiting for them. you're not sure how long they're gone, but when they return, they're both breathing hard, and bloody. they let you out, and sam immediately engulfs you in a tight hug.
"thank god for the winchesters," you breath out, pulling away and tugging dean into a tight hug of his own. "seriously, thank you guys."
dean's hand lingers on your lower back, as you let him go—an action that doesn't go unnoticed by you.
"so, let me get this straight; you broke into my motel room, but brought my truck back from the bar?" you ask, crawling out of the impala.
sam gives you a small smile, "sorry."
"y'know what? i don't even care. i'm alive. you guys are alive." you sigh, straightening up, and throwing your arms over your head to stretch. "sam, why don't you take the first shower? i need a cigarette,"
"you smoke now?" dean asks, quirking an eyebrow up in question, and you shake your head.
"no, but with how much this job takes years off my life span, i might just friggin' start." the three of you laugh, and sam squeezes your shoulder as he passes, heading into your room.
you sit down on the curbstone in front of the impala, leaning against the grill. dean does the same, and you sit in silence. you're both still reeling from everything that happened. it's been a crazy couple of hours. but, you also need to get it off your chest.
"i didn't leave." you say, your voice soft, almost pleading, like you're not sure if he'll believe you. "i— i wouldn't have left. never. b—but..."
"i know," he says softly, and your heart stutters in your chest, eyes flying to his face. "dad... he lied to us both."
he doesn't look at you, just takes your hand in his and squeezes it. then his thumb glides along the space between your wrist and thumb knuckle, almost absently.
"he said i was a distraction, that you couldn't have me around anymore." his eyes finally meet yours, jaw tense, his expression unreadable. so you continue, "that you knew it was the right decision."
"he told me you wanted out. wanted normal. wanted away from us... from me." he replies, "but then sam told me, that when he left, he planned on takin' you with him... but you told him no."
your face burns in embarassment, "friggin' sam,"
dean's lips turn up slightly, his expression softening, a soft chuckle slips past his lips, and your heart thumps hard in your chest. you missed that sound, his laugh. it's like music to your ears.
"what else did sam say?" you mumble, bumping your shoulder into dean's.
"oh, y'know, some more embarrassing stuff... but i like seeing you all sheepish and nervous, so i think i'll leave that for another day,"
you roll your eyes, "who said i was nervous?"
he glances down at your free hand, and your nails are digging into your thigh, knuckles white from the pressure. it was a way to anchor yourself, you did do it every time you got nervous. you ease up, dropping your hand to your side, and scoffing.
"shut up," you mumble, and he smiles at you.
he wraps his arm up around your shoulder, your intertwined hands resting across your chest as he tugs you closer to him. his face is very close, hot breath fanning over the side of your jaw.
"'m sorry," he says, the sincerity and soft ache in his voice breaks your heart a little, and your turn your head, shaking it slightly.
"no, don't do that. don't apologize for something you didn't do. you know how i feel about that,"
"'m not, i'm apologizing for being rude earlier. deep down i think i knew better, but i was blinded by anger. wasn't fair," he says it into the shoulder of your jacket.
you nod, pressing the side of your head against his forehead. then, the door to your motel rooms swings open, and sam—damp hair and clean clothes—pauses mid-step. his eyes are comically wide as he stares at the two of you, kind of looking like a deer caught in headlights. dean lifts his head, but doesn't pull away from you. normally, you'd be embarrassed as shit, but honestly? the adrenaline has worn off and you're almost too tired to shower, let alone care.
"am i," sam coughs, shifting uncomfortably under dean's steady gaze, "interrupting something?"
"yes," dean says gruffly, as you shake your head with a small, soft smile.
sam looks between the two of you, makes a grossed out face, and then walks back into the room. you let out a small laugh as the door clicks closed behind sam. dean chuckles into your ear, and then drops his forehead onto your shoulder.
"i can't believe that you're here right now," he admits quietly. "i missed having you around."
your heartrate picks up, and you turn your head slightly, seeing the top of his head.
"i missed being around, if that counts for anything."
he lifts his head, studying your face before his eyes meets yours, "it does. it counts for everything."
lavender earl grey iced coffee for two. ★ bf!dean winchester
MASTERLIST
BACK | NEXT
dean winchester who makes fun of you for liking sweet coffee, and flavoured iced coffee would 100% end up pretending he hates your coffee only for you to have your drink consistently stolen to the point that you just start making two.
"you like that shit?" he grumbles over his hot black coffee, nose turned up.
"it's good, just try it." you'd say offering him the straw.
rolling his eyes, he takes a sip, swallows, looks at you with an unreadable expression and then goes in for a second sip.
your face lights up, "you like it!"
"i didn't say that."
"you took a second sip, dean."
"yeah, 'cause i had to make sure it was as gross as i'd thought initially."
"yeah, okay. sure," you laugh, setting your cup down on the table, leaning over to kiss his cheek, before going to the bathroom.
when you return, he's drank the whole thing, and will not look at you.
"gross, was it?" you tease, and he grunts, still not look up at you.
you smile, and take the empty cup back to the kitchenette, and begin making another one. then you feel his arms wrap around your middle, his chin settling on your shoulder, watching how you make the drink.
"do you want another one?" you ask softly, and he nods, making you giggle.
SUMMARY — this year brought a world of horrors for you. a car accident just weeks before your first day of sophomore year leaves you with no memory of the last year of your life. six months later, things have settled for you; you've got perfect grades, you're a cheerleader and your boyfriend is the quarterback. life is great, perfect even, until a certain raven-haired boy comes crashing into your life, causing chaos and triggering some of your memories to come back.
PAIRING — sweet pea x fem!andrews!reader | reggie mantle x fem!andrews! reader
WORD COUNT — 9.6k
WARNINGS — shitty friends, mentions of a car accident, cheating (caught in the act), lying, angst, fighting, swearing, i think that's it???? (let me know if i missed anything!!!!)
A/N — the plot of riverdale is kind of muddled in this fic; hiram logde's plans are apart of it somewhat, but jason is still alive. no mention of "yn" everyone mostly refers to her as andrews, reg refers to reader as "sunshine" a few times, and fred refers to her as kiddo, also the absolute SHITSHOW i went through to post this, oh my god, tumblr formatting is FUCKED (i usually write everything in my notes app or on wattpad bc i have lost so many partially done fics to shitty service). like i get WHY, but AHHHHHHHH (that's me screaming at the top of my lungs,,, 24 hour loop edition), not proof read
MASTERLIST
YOU.
"ronnie needs our support on this," your twin brother archie explains, he's leaning against the door frame of your bedroom.
your back is to him, and you're trying to get ready to head out for school. your homework, laptop and other things sit spewed around your room. utter chaos from your midnight homework session. you straighten yourself, finally meeting his eyes.
"yeah, and? veronica is your girlfriend, not mine archie." you reply, leaning down to shove your laptop into your school bag.
"please?" he pleads, and you roll your eyes.
veronica lodge's dad is no good for riverdale, you can feel it. every move he makes seems to rattle one of archie's friends, or cause a disturbance within the town. since hiram rolled in it seems like one half of riverdale is always up in arms. first jughead when the serpents trashed the drive-in, and the northsiders because of the southsiders joining the now only school in riverdale.
"arch, i don't have the same kind of love from my friends you do. i step on their toes over this, i'm going to be an outcast." you reply, zipping up your bag.
"you can always hang with us," archie sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "i know that betty misses you a lot, same with jughead."
"then why haven't they reached out?" you snap, sick of the conversation at hand.
archie always gets your hopes up, then plans fall through or they "unintentionally" leave you out. so, you're done. they know that you don't remember anything from the last year; the good, the bad or the petty. you're done trying to change things when with every effort you're shot down. you want normalcy. you want your friends back, but if they're not going to tell you what's going on, or make an effort, then why should you?
"just think about it, okay?" archie says, and you shake my head.
you throw my bag over your shoulder and push past him. you pause in the hallway, guilt creeping up on you, but ultimately decide not to worry about it. archie's been babying you, coddling you even since the accident. which to an extent you can understand it; you could have died. at the same time you feel like you never have a moment to yourself. archie's always lurking. you jog down the stairs, patting vegas as you slip out the front door onto the footpath.
the weather is hazy, it's damp out, fog lining the streets obscuring vision twenty feet head. you thank the powers that be for you remember a jacket. you pull your hood up as you walk towards the sidewalk, but you catch sight of your boyfriend's car parked on the street.
"morning princess," reggie calls through the open passenger window.
"morning reg," you reply pulling the door open and sliding into the passenger seat.
"did you hear about southside high closing?" he prompts after you give him a quick peck on the lips. "means all the trash is going to be clogging the halls of riverdale high,"
"yeah, arch filled me in this morning. you'd think after all the drama surrounding archie and the serpents he'd be less than excited about them transferring in." you sigh, tossing your bag into the backseat.
"he's on their side?" reggie asks, mouth twisting in disgust.
"guess so," you shrug, pulling on your seatbelt as reggie pulls away from the curb.
"but you're not?"
"i'm indifferent," you reply. "i don't care one way or the other,"
"cheryl's going to hate it," he says, and you shrug again.
the drive is relatively short, and silent. when you and reggie aren't making out, it's usually pretty quiet. you're together on the principle of "it makes sense". that's quite literally how he phrased it when he asked you out. and to an extent he's right. it makes sense for a football player to be dating a cheerleader. it makes sense. that being said, your relationship is entirely physical and for show. you're more along the lines of friends with benefits than an actual relationship. he only calls you when there's a party, or he's horny. romantic, you know. reggie grabs your backpack, and you climb out of the car.
"morning!" betty shouts, climbing out of her mom's car.
"hey," you reply, watching as she b-lines towards you.
"you friends with cooper again?" reggie whispers, leaning against the passenger side door.
"no, her friends want my support about the southside," you whisper back, plastering on a fake smile.
"good morning," mrs. cooper says as she drives past.
"good morning mrs. cooper!" you reply cheerily, she smiles and waves before turning out onto the street.
"hey, can we talk for a minute?" betty asks, stopping a few feet away.
she looks like she always does. blonde hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, makeup pretty minimal and natural, and her signature grey crown sweatshirt.
"sure," you say, and reggie leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, as you grab your backpack from him. "see you in homeroom."
he just smirks at you, as you turn away. you feel his eyes on your back until the two of you slip inside of the school. you feel slightly more at ease without reggie by your side. you follow betty to the room dedicated to the blue and gold (your school newspaper). betty drops into her seat at her desk, and you drop your bag on the table and plop down in the chair on the otherside of her desk. you sit, crossing your arms over your chest.
"whats do you want?" you ask, your question coming out ruder than you'd intended.
"i uh, i wanted to touch base." she says, averting eye conact.
"touch base? we haven't spoken since before my accident, betty. what do you really want?" you snap, becoming both annoyed and upset that she didn't actually mean it.
you could have played dumb, you could have gossiped, you could have gave her a life update. but you spend so much time being fake with your 'friends' that you can't handle any more superficial small talk that neither of you will remember. she looks taken a back by your brashness, and you feel a twinge of guilt. just a twinge.
"i—" she starts, but you cut her off as you forcfully shove your chair back, causing an awful screeching sound as it drags across the tile floor.
"look, cooper, if you need something, be straight with me and don't get my hopes up to use me for information." you grab your backpack and trudge into the hallway crashing straight into someone sending you flying back.
you grunt, bracing for the impact but instead you feel two hands on my arms steadying me. you peak your eyes open, and see a tall guy with dark hair and a leather jacket.
"oh shit, i'm sorry," you mutter slipping past him as you rush up the stairs.
you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, like someone's watching you. you turn your head as you head up, and see the guy who caught you staring in your direction. he looks pissed, and you wonder for a brief moment if that anger is directed at you. you feel someone poke you in the shoulder and you turn your head to look at them. you jump in shock at how close she is.
"you good?" cheryl asks, the usual distaste in her voice, one eyebrow raised in question.
"yeah, fine," you reply walking in step with her, glancing down the stairs, to see a brown and pink haired girl pulling him away.
"—and i don't know why she wants this so bad—" cheryl's voice drifts off into backgroung noise, something that tends to happen more and more frequently.
that guy looked weirdly familiar. you swear you've seen his face before but you can't seem to place it. which is also happening more, and more frequently to you. you know it's going to bug the hell out of you.
"—and i said—" cheryl continues, as you head towards english.
"andrews!" you feel two arms wrap around your middle, and you're yanked backwards and lifted up.
"ahhhhhh!" you shout, startled by the sudden movement and contact, your kneejerk reaction is to raise your elbow and throw it into the first piece of flesh you connect with.
"andr- shit!" a familiar voice yells, as you free fall to the ground, landing on your ass hard. "what the hell, dude!?"
you lift my head and see cheryl's twin brother jason leaning over, clutching his stomach in pain. you clap your hand over your mouth in a mix of embarrassment. he glances down at you, rubbing the tender area, mouthing 'what the fuck' over and over.
"shit! jason, i'm so sorry—" you say, quickly standing up, he waves you away so he can take a second.
"what has you so jumpy this morning?" cheryl asks, crossing her arms and raising both her eye brows at me.
"no clue," you reply truthfully.
"too much caffeine likely," jason says, standing up right and throwing his arms cross both mine and cheryl's shoulders to guide us to class.
"how many cups a day are you drinking?"
"two," you reply, no hesitation.
you haven't been sleeping much lately, or at all really. you weren't sure what was worse; the lack of sleep, or the fact that when you do manage to fall alseep all you seem to dream of is the four agonizing hours you were trapped in your car after the accident.
"four with extra espresso." jason chirps, and you mock elbow him and he flinches, dropping his arm from your shoulder to shield himself. "not cool dude,"
"aw, prwincess," you mutter tapping his cheek with your hand.
you duck under his arms at a weak attempt to catch you, and slide into class dropping into your usual seat beside ethel muggs. mrs. leroy has all the desks grouped in twos. she likes to assign a lot of partner assignments and classwork, so you ended up with desk pairs.
"good morning," ethel says brightly, and you smile at her.
"good morning ethel, how was your weekend?"
"it was good, how was yours?"
"it was okay," you reply and shrug as mrs. leroy, our english teacher waddles into the room.
she drops her bag beside her desk and takes off her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair before standing at the front of the room and clearing her throat.
"alright guys, we have a bunch of new students joining us. i'm sure you heard about the students from southside high tranfering in, and we're going to be very welcoming. as such, i've decided to change up your desk partners to kick off our next project." she says, and everyone groans. "hey! who knows, maybe you'll meet your new best friend!"
you drop your head down on the desk as she continues to speak.
"i call your pairs and you'll move to the assigned set of desk pairs, every up."
everyone obeys, clearing to the back, front and sides of the room as she spends the next fifteen minutes reseating you.
"mr. blossom and ms. topaz, these desks please." jason nudges your foot as he passes.
"she's pretty," he mouths and you roll your eyes, a shit eating grin on his face.
"mr. sweet pea, and ms. andrews."
"sweet pea, what kind of name is that?" cheryl snickers, rolling her eyes.
you step forward, dropping into the closest desk to you, ducking your head to look into your backpack for my notebook and pencil. you drop them onto the desk, and look ahead to the board.
"uh, excuse me—?" you turn my head, and see the guy who caught me in the hallway.
"yeah?"
he's cute. messy—but like the intentional kind of messy—dark hair, with curls over his forehead, and dark eyes. there's a hint of ink poking out over the collar of his leather jacket, you catch sight of a snake's head.
"can i— uh— can i borrow a pencil or pen?" he asks, and you nod, turning to dig into you backpack for one.
you feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you dig. you pull out the first pen you find and hand it over. he reaches out, grabbing hold of it, and your fingers briefly touch. a shiver immediately shoots down my spine, and you drop your hand. you get a flash of a memory, it's difficult to piece together what you're remembering. you see a flash of a half empty vodka bottle, a leather jacket, and a tattoo gun. you gather your things, and jump out of your seat rushing to the bathroom, you hastily shove your notebook away and drop your bag upon entering the bathroom. you drop to your knees in front of the first toilet you find, and empty the contents of your stomach. you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean back against the stall dividers, trying to catch your breath.
it was like for a brief moment you was there. you could hear the tattoo gun buzzing, you could feel the scratch against your skin and you could taste the vodka. you stand up, and walk over to the mirror. maybe you're losing your mind. you would notice a tattoo, wouldn't you? if you didn't know to look for one, maybe you wouldn't... you lift your hoodie a little, and catch sight of one of the snake's heads poking out from under the underwire of your bra.
"holy shit," you breath, pulling your hoodie back down.
you lean down, and turn on the water slashing it onto your face. you stare hard at yourself in the mirror. how could you not see something like that? why didn't anyone tell you? you were told that you grew apart from your friends, but by the looks of things you had a whole other set that no one knew about, or at the very least didn't want you to go back to. the bell rings, signaling the end of first period, and you stand there staring at yourself in the mirror. the door opens slightly, and the brown and pick haired girl sticks her head in and sees you.
"hey, are you okay?" she asks, opening the door fully to come in.
"uh, yeah, i think so." you reply, and she nods, not pushing the topic any further, which you appreciate.
checking in on you is a small act of kindness that not even my so-called 'best friend' cheryl could give. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, and pull it out, turning away from the sink to lean on it. think of the devil, a text from cheryl.
you don't reply, you just sigh, and shove your phone back into your pocket. you look up and catch the girl's reflection staring at you.
"uh, sorry." she says and you shake your head, mustering a small smile.
"it's okay, i'm—," you say, sticking out your hand to her.
"actually, we've met bef—" she cuts you off, but is cut off by the bell ringing.
then there's a loud bang on the door, and it opens slightly.
"topaz! we need to talk," it's sweet pea.
she throws you a sympathetic smile and heads out to the hallway. you there for another few minutes, fully aware of the fact that you're missing chemistry before you pull your phone back out, and call your dad. i can't handle this, i'm incredibly overwhelmed. all of this is too much. i know toni? i'm a southside serpent?
"hey kiddo, what's up?" he asks, answering on the first ring, it's his coffee break. "aren't you supposed to be in class?"
"i am," you reply, your voice shaking, immediately giving away how you're feeling. "i just— dad—"
"sweetheart?" he prompts.
fred andrews, a saint walking, ever understanding. you're incredibly blessed to have him for a dad. you force yourself to take a shaky breath, you're on the verge of tears and your eyes burn.
"can i have a day? i just— i'm so overwhelmed. can i go home?" you ask, the dam breaking, tears slipping down your cheeks.
"yeah, kiddo, i'll come get you and sign you out for the day, okay?" he says, and you whisper okay. "hang tight, i'll be there soon."
"thanks dad," you say, and hang up.
you stare at your reflection, your eyes are puffy and you look like hell. your hair is a mess, but you really don't have the energy to fix it. you grab a couple paper towels from the dispenser and wipe your face. you grab your backpack and head down to the office. you drop into one of the chairs across from mrs. bell's desk to wait.
"oh, hi," she says, exiting mr. weatherbee's office holding a folder. "how can i help you dear?"
"i'm not feeling well, my dad's coming to pick me up." you reply, forcing a small smile.
"oh i'm sorry to hear that dear, i hope you feel better," she gives you a sympathetic look as she plops down at her desk.
you're used to the look; the sad eyes with a small forced smile, you'd recived it a lot since the accident. there were no fatalities thankfully, but it drastically changed your life. at least you have to assume it did, you'd lost a year's worth of memories and it only took you a severe concussion and a couple weeks of physical therapy.
"good morning, dorris," comes your dad's voice, he steps into the office and mrs. bell smiles at him.
"well hello, fred." she says, a faint smile on her lips.
everyone on this side of town loves your dad. fred andrews is the kind of guy who will drop everything if you're in a bind, whether you're a friend or not. he signs you out on the sign out clipboard and turns to you.
"ready to go?" he asks, and you nod, standing up.
he slings an arm around your shoulders, and you wrap an arm around his middle as you walk. he doesn't ask you any questions, but you're sure when you get home he's going to have some.
SWEETPEA.
"she acts like she's never met us before," fangs says, sitting down beside sweet pea on the steps leading up to the bleachers.
they need privacy to talk about what's happening, this was the closest thing sweet pea could find. especially with all the gawking, stares and judgemental looks they'd been receiving since showing up to their new school this morning.
"i know, she didn't even say "hi" or anything. it's the least she could have done given everything," sweet pea grumbles, watching as toni walks towards them.
"she doesn't remember us," toni says, coming to a stop in front of them. "she literally doesn't remember us. like at all, she introduced herself to me in the bathroom,"
"what the hell?" fangs mutters, "maybe it's an elaborate plan to keep her summer in the snakes den a secret?"
"that is the dumbest thing i have ever heard," toni says crossing her arms over her chest. "you heard how she was talking before she ghosted us, she was over it all, the cliques, school, all of it."
"she said we were her family," sweet pea mumbles, "and then she disappeared. maybe it was all a lie,"
"jesus christ, or maybe, something bad happened to her, and she actually doesn't remember us." toni replies, the annoyance in her voice prominent. "and if she didn't remember us, then how would she know to contact us?"
"i sent her over a hundred texts since she disappeared, none of them have even been opened."
"case and point," toni says, rolling her eyes. "look, sit and stew in your misery, or confront her. i don't know about you guys, but i plan on getting my friend back."
with that toni turns on her heel, and heads back towards the school. fangs sighs, and stands up, brushing the dust off his ass as he turns to stand where toni had just been.
"maybe she's right," he says, looking down at sweet pea. "we know elly, she wouldn't just up and ghost us like this unless something happened. i want our friend back, and i'm with toni on trying by any means necessary to get her back,"
fangs studies sweet pea's face, looking for any indication that he's heard anything he said. after a moment, fangs sighs again, and turns to follow toni back into the school. sweet pea sits there on the bleachers, he watches as his friends grow smaller and smaller the further they get. he groans, and throws his head back. he's frustrated. he hasn't heard a damn thing from you in months, and then he sees you at his new school and suddenly his whole world collapses. he sighs, and pulls his cellphone out of the pocket of his leather jacket. he opens up his texts, and pulls up your messages.
you never showed up, you never called, you just disappeared. well, apparently you hadn't, but for sweet pea you did. other than toni and fangs he had no other friends in common at the time. no way of getting a hold of you when his calls all suddenly hit you voicemail. now here you are, back in his life, but so far from his reach. he had hoped a million times over the last six months that he'd find out what happened, that he'd get some kind of explanation or closure. something. anything.
but when his eyes landed on you, it was like all the anger towards you, and the situation melted away. for a second, it was like you were never gone. then that daydream snapped, and you were rushing away. not an ounce of recognition in your eyes. it hurt. his phone vibrates in his hand, and it brings him back. back to the bleachers, back to the harsh reality that you might have no clue who he is, back to the anger that swirls in his head, back to how much he loves you, and how much his heart hurts because you might no remember any of it.
he looks down at the screen, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as the bell rings again.
YOU.
"alright, so, what's up?" he asks, as you drop onto the couch.
vegas jumps up beside you, and drops his head into your lap. you run your fingers through his soft fur and try to figure out a way to start this conversation.
"what was i like over the summer?" you ask, looking up at him.
he's standing by the front door, leaning against the archway leading into the living room. he's got his arms crossed and he's watching you silently.
"you were like you are now," he shrugs, "you didn't spend much time home, at first you were busy with cheryl and then you got a job."
"a job?" you ask, that's new information. "where?"
"the twilight drive-in," he replies, "you made some new friends with your co-workers, or so you said. you and archie were barely home over the summer,"
there's a few moments of silence as you digest this new information.
"dad?"
"yeah kiddo?"
"where was i going? why was i in that car?"
"truthfully, i don't know. archie said the two of you had gotten in a pretty heated fight, and you'd stormed out. a few hours later i got a call from sheriff keller,"
you nod, and sigh, leaning forward. you rest your elbows on your knees, and rub your eyes.
"i had a memory come back," you say after a minute, you don't look up at him. "it was weird though, it was really intense. it was like i was inside the memory."
"do you know what triggered it?"
"no," you lie, until you figure out what's going on with you, you plan to keep sweet pea and toni out of things. "it just hit me in the middle of english, and i had to get out of the room. i went to the bathroom and i puked."
"you puked?"
"yeah, nausea hit me seconds after the memory."
"well, at least you're making progress. the doctor said it could take a while,"
you nod, finally looking up at him. he checks his watch, and comes into the livingroom.
"you take it easy okay? don't strain yourself," he kisses your forehead and heads back to the front door. "i love you,"
"love you too dad," you murmur, watching him leave.
when you can no longer hear the rumble of his truck, you decide to head up to your room. until the accident you'd kept a near meticulous set of diaries, if you can find the one you was working on, maybe it can shed some light on what's going on.
it's weird, you're you, living in your body, but up until six months ago you were a completely different person. it's like living inside a stranger. you step into your room, it's a mess. clothes litter the floor, spilling from your closet, empty take away coffee cups, empty mugs from downstairs and energy drink cans litter the top of your dresser and desk. you go to the hall closet across from your room and grab a garbage bag and head back in. might as well clean up.
a few hours later you stand in the center of your now clean room. all your clean clothes have been re-folded or hung up, all the dirty clothes are in the wash and there's not a single thing out of place. except for—you squint, dropping to your knees in front of your bed, leaning down to pull two cardboard boxes from underneath. one is marked MY NOTEBOOKS, DON'T TOUCH (THAT MEANS YOU ARCH) in all caps—obviously your diaries, but the other has no label. you take off the lid and audibly gasp at the contents. sitting on top is a leather jacket with the southside serpents logo on the back, under the jacket is a dark green journal, a white handled switchblade, your old cellphone and a set of keys.
the screen on the phone is shattered, pretty near unusable by most people's standards. no one knew where your phone was after the crash. you'd just written it off as lost... finding it here, in this box changes things. you put it on the charger, and sit cross legged on the floor. maybe it'll be able to turn it on, if not you could to take it to a repair shop. you pick up the jacket, and check all the pockets. inside the left pocket is a half crumpled note, you pull it out and flatten it. it's definitely not your writing. it has one sentence, and it crushes you.
i love you too
- sweet pea
you drop your hand holding the paper into your lap. that just makes everything even worse. does he know that you lost your memories? does he know about the accident? does toni? do they think you're pretending? were you on your way to see him when you crashed?
"fuck," you whisper, pulling your knees up to your chest.
you wanted the truth, and you got it, well part of it. how do you process all of this? how do you fix this? god, you just want to scream. throw things. have a little bit of a meltdown. it won't fix anything, but it might make you feel better. you rest your forehead on the edge of your bed and sit there on the floor, the jacket half hanging out of the box.
"hey?" comes archie's voice from the hallway, i jump at the sound. "hey- are you okay?"
you kick the box under your bed and glance up to see archie. he stops at the threshold, looking intently at you. you hear more sets of feet coming up the steps.
"i—"
you want to lie, you want to tell him you're fine. say everything's a-ok. but it's not. it's really not. and then betty, jughead and veronica come up behind archie and the damn breaks. you start violently, and uncontrollably sobbing into my arms. how did you wake up a year and a half older with such resentment for your three best friends? how did your life fall apart so quickly?
"hey, sh, sh, you're okay, everything's okay," archie says dropping to his knees to envelope you in a hug.
the other drop down on the floor with you. veronica and betty rub your back soothingly. you need to apologize, but you can't stop crying. maybe that's just as well, still a meltdown, just a different kind you suppose.
"i'm sorry!" you cry, frantically wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.
you dislike crying in front of people, and you know most people don't like having someone cry in front of them. you try and steady your breathing.
"hey, you don't have to apologize," veronica says. "we've all kind of been terrible friends since your accident,"
"that's why we're here," betty adds, patting your shoulder comfortingly.
"that's why they're here," jughead says, and betty swats at him and misses. "hey! let me finish woman! i was going to say, i've been a great friend. we had lots of fun working at the drive-in together,"
"jug..." betty says softly, using that same tone people often use when they're tip-toing around things that might hurt you. she shakes her head slightly, "she doesn't—"
"hey! don't talk about me like i'm not here!" you say loudly, all three of them turn to look at you. "i'm not fragile, you don't have to choose your words carefully around me, i have amnesia not brain damage."
"you're right," veronica says, staring each of them down until they nod. "we all need to stop treating you like glass,"
you quickly stand, your back to them for a minute. you take a deep breath, and turn around.
"arch, what were we fighting about when i left?" you ask, and he looks at you for a moment before swallowing, hard.
"you felt abandoned," he says, his eyes falling to the black rug they're sitting on. "you were upset because we were going on our annual nyc trip, but i'd also promised ronnie i'd help her with something in the morning, and i wanted to push the trip back by two, three hours. and you got really upset and exploded on me—it was entirely justified on your end—there was a lot of things you wanted to do together over the summer and i either canceled or forgot. i was a shitty brother."
"no, arch, you weren't. i'm sure i was just being drama—" you start, but archie raises his hand and you stop.
"no, i was being selfish. i made you a promise, and i broke it. i'm sorry," archie says, standing up and pulling you into a tight hug. "i'm sorry, i really am."
"and we're sorry," jughead says, as archie lets you go. "we thought that giving you some space would be a good thing, but we all got a little caught up in our own shit."
"i understand that, however, i've been alone pretty much for six months." you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.
"you've had cheryl, and jason, and reggie—you seemed like you were pretty happy..." betty says, and you shrug, looking away from her.
"cheryl is nice— but all we talk about is her. jason's fun to hang with but we have nothing in common other than reggie and cheryl. and reggie.." you sigh, staring out your window over their heads. "reggie made sense."
"he made sense?" veronica asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"picking reggie made sense, and don't get me wrong i do like reggie, he's a great guy—a good listener, great at solving problems, fun to hang out with and all—but there's no connection." you sigh, you briefly contemplate telling them about the jacket, about your supposed summer with the serpents, but decide against it for now.
"are you going to break up with him?" archie asks, and you shrug in reply.
"i probably should," you sigh again, why does all of this have to be so damn hard? "did he ask about me when i disappeared this morning?"
"yeah, i told him you weren't feeling well. dad text me about you being home," archie says, and you nod.
"well, i say we grab dinner at pops tonight like old times," veronica says when the silence goes on a beat too long.
"honestly, i would love that, but i have to tie up some lose ends first. i'll meet you guys there at," you pause, walking over to your old phone, tapping the screen, relief shoots through you when it lights up, "say, 6?"
"sounds good," betty says, and they all stand up.
you unplug your phone, pocketing it as jughead, archie and veronica file out, heading back downstairs, but betty lingers.
"you okay, cooper?" you ask, teasingly.
she turns towards you sharply, hands clasped behind her back, "this morning, i— i really was trying to touch base with you. i know that the whole southside thing kind of has half the school losing it, but you told archie no, and i wasn't going to push it. he mentioned that you were upset about the group not reconnecting with you after everything, and i just wanted to see how you were— are."
"i owe you an apology for how i acted, i was frustrated with arch, not that that's an excuse, but i just kind of snapped. i'm really sorry, i shouldn't have taken that out on you betty,"
"your anger is justified, we should have been by you every step of the way—"
"you were busy, things happen. i missed you guys, sure, but this entire thing has been insane. i woke up six months ago with no memories from the last year. and to be fair, it's not like i made much of an effort with you guys."
"well, we're all okay now. and, you could never truly get rid of us,"
you let out a short laugh, throwing your arm over her shoulder, leading her out into the hallway.
"and you couldn't get rid of me if you tried," you say, and betty grins at you, her arm circling your back as you descend the stairs.
you're standing outside the mantle's house, trying to decide if now is really the best time to be doing this, but your rationality wins out and you move towards the door before you lose your nerve. you raise your hand to knock, but the door flies open and you're met face to face with mrs. mantle.
"hi dear, are you okay?" she asks, a warm smile on her face.
"yes. ma'am, i just..." you were not prepared for his mom to open the door.
that was actually the worse possible thing that could have happened. mrs. mantle has always been such a kind, and wonderful person towards you. you almost wonder if she's the reason you'd let things between you and reggie continue as long as they have.
"sorry, is reggie home?" you ask, and she nods, stepping out of the way to let you in.
"he's upstairs doing homework, are you staying for supper?"
the longer you speak to her the more you're dreading following through with this. she's such a nice lady, and you're not entirely sure how reggie's going to handle this. you really don't want to lose her.
you force yourself to shake your head, "no ma'am, i just have to talk to reggie and then i have dinner plans with my brother,"
she nods again, and you slip your shoes off, and head upstairs.
you've been here so many times that you don't even have to think about where you're going. as such, this leaves time for you to panic and try to talk yourself out of it. you're not sure why. reggie had been a crush of yours for a long time, from middle school to freshman year at least. when you woke up without your memories from the last year, you'd still felt that way about him. you'd been excited when he initially asked you out. mind you that excitement fizzled rather quickly, realizing what the arrangement meant for your relationship.
you were disappointed, sure, but you weren't blindsided by any means. reggie had always given you the kind of vibe that he wasn't interested in settling down just yet. so, when you push his partially closed door open and find him with his tongue down the throat of a different cheerleader, you're not entirely shocked. the girl notices you first, she's younger than you and reggie by at least a year, and she squeals, pulling away from him. he doesn't notice you at first, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion before he follows her eyeline. they both look like deer, and you're the headlights.
"uh, h-hey..." reggie musters, sitting down beside the girl, "i think you should probably go,"
"y-yeah, g-go...." she says, jumping up and flying out of the room.
you stare at him, unsure of how to continue. sure, he'd made this infinitely easier on you, but at the same time you still find yourself hurting a bit.
"i'm sorry," he says, dropping his head into his hands.
"despite our "arrangement", reg," you use air quotes, "i thought you respected me more than this,"
"i do!" his voice comes out loud, then softer, "i do."
the silence that follows is deafening, and feels like it stretches for hours. he doesn't look at you the whole time, his eyes trained on the ground.
"well, you've made this decision a whole lot easier for me. i'm breaking up with you, reg." you sigh, "i don't hate you; i'm not mad at you; i am a bit disappointed, but i think we were kind of doomed from the start. maybe in a couple months we can try to be friends, just friends. if you're down with that..."
he raises his head, guilt written clear across his features, but he nods, "i'm sorry, sunshine. i really, really am."
"i know reg," you say, leaning down to give his hand a squeeze. "so am i,"
you turn to leave, hesitanting in the doorway.
"reg?"
"yeah?"
you turn to look at him, "see you around,"
4:50pm. you have about an hour and ten minutes before you have to meet archie and the others. you plop down on your bed, and flip your diary open. there are only eight entries.
entry 1: may 16th
i can't do this anymore. faking everything. it's driving me fucking insane. betty, ronnie, and archie are always flaking on me. internship this. summer job that. charity this. sorry i forgot that. jug is the only one who hasn't consistently left me hanging, and we're not even all that close. that being said, out of all of them, i'm starting to change my tune on that. he's even offered to talk to his manager about possibly getting me a summer job at the twilight. which would be killer, i'm there for most of the showings anyway. at least i'll get paid for doing something i already enjoy. then at least i'll have something going on. i'm honestly not ok with them constantly rescheduling things but for whatever reason i just sit there and take it. i need to start putting myself first, and find some friends that put in just as much effort as i do. i wonder if the three of them will even notice if i stop putting in the effort.
entry 2: may 19th
guess who has a new job!!! me!!!!!!!! i'm so excited, i don't think i've been this happy about something in a long time. i start tomorrow night, and jug's already introduced me to some of his coworkers. i'll be working in concession. we're even allowed to sit outside and watch the movie when we're between customers. i'm so looking forward to having this. betty, ronnie and i were supposed to go shopping today but they both just texted to cancel. go figure.
entry 3: may 20th
first day was a success! my new coworkers are so nice, i even made quick friends with a girl named toni. she's got pink highlights in her hair which really suit her. i also overheard that she's a southside serpent. mind you she doesn't really seem like the kind of people i’ve been told are in that motorcycle gang. then again, you're not supposed to believe everything you hear.
okay!! it's later now, and toni asked me if i wanted to hang out with her and her friends at the quarry tomorrow!! that's the first time in a really long time someone’s asked me to do something with them! i, of course said yes! i’m so excited!!
just got back from the quarry, i had so much fun. more fun than i’ve had all year! toni is so much fun to be around, she has the best energy, and it's just so refreshing to be around someone who actually wants to do things and live in the moment. the last time i hung out with ronnie and betty they were both glued to their cellphones, undoubtedly texting jug and archie. i also met her two best friends sweet pea and fangs, who are also super cool. they were really nice, and welcoming. i was pretty nervous, because i’d seen the two of them at the drive-in with fp a bunch of times, so i knew they were serpents, but they were both so nice! i’m really starting to wonder if the serpents are as “bad” and as much of a problem as other northsiders insist they are.
entry 4: june 21st
oh god, it’s been a month since my last entry. i have so much to write about… i honestly don't know where to start. i’ve been hanging out with toni, sweet pea and fangs pretty consistently since that day they invited me to the quarry. i’ve stopped chasing archie and his friends to hang out, and i was right in my guess that they wouldn't notice if i stopped trying. i haven't received a single text from any of them. i mean, i have from archie, but he’s my brother so that doesn't really count in my opinion. and i guess jug too, but we're coworkers and he was the only non-flake before anyway. either way, it’s been so nice having toni, fangs and sweet pea reaching out to make plans with me and when i reach out to them they actually follow through. we all have a lot in common; we enjoy a lot of the same music and tv shows.
toni is a god with her camera, i don't think i’ve seen more beautiful photography, and she takes the BEST candids. she’s taken so many pictures of us, she’s going to get me some physical copies for my scrapbook.
fangs can get you ANYTHING. he’s such a smooth talker that people just end up giving him things. he even got us into a sold out _ show. i’m really not sure how he managed, but we got escorted by security to the barricade.
i was supposed to go with betty, archie and ronnie, but i decided to flake on them for a change. that did get me a few texts from each of them, and i didn't answer them. i just turned off my phone and enjoyed the show. it was amazing!!!!!! i had an absolute blast.
i’ve also been spending more time with sweet pea… alone… (obviously, with toni & fangs too) he’s nothing like i thought he’d be when we met. here i go again judging a book by its cover, shame on me. but he’s so sweet, it took a bit to get him to open up to me, toni says he’s just protective, which i both completely agree and understand. with friends as cool as those two, i don't blame him. he goes out of his way for everyone; holding the door for old ladies, standing in the middle of a busy street so kids can cross. he seems so scary and mean, but that's just his defence. we've been getting a really close, and every time he asks me to hangout i get butterflies.
we're hanging out tonight too, i’m going to pick him up in twenty minutes and we're going to the quarry. i’m sitting in a booth at pop’s waiting for our food. i really like him, and i enjoy spending time with him. toni said she’s never seen him so happy, and that she thinks he likes me. i really hope he does, because i like him. i might even tell him as much tonight… that might be a bit too much, actually. i don't know. oh, pop’s calling my order, i’ll update you later!
just got back from the quarry, and oh. my. god. sweet pea kissed me! i was all nervous, and i decided i was going to tell him how i felt and before i got the words out, he leaned over and just did it! i’ve had a few kisses before, some good, some not so much, but this one? it was the BEST i’ve ever had. that thing you read about in fanfics or novels about fireworks or butterflies, it's REAL. he asked me out on a date too, and i’m literally so excited. i called toni before i added this update and she squealed. she was right, he does like me. mine and sweet pea’s date is wednesday night, we're going to watch a movieat the drive-in and then in the morning we're all going camping at sweetwater river.
my phone is ringing… it’s archie? weird, he usually texts me. i’m going to answer him, i’ll be right back.
just got off the phone with arch. mom is coming down from chicago for the weekend, and we were supposed to go together to pick her up, now he’s backed out on me and i have to go alone. what could be more important than picking mom up from the airport?! especially considering we rarely see her. whatever, i guess it’ll give us time to talk.
entry 5: june 30th
just dropped mom back off at the airport. this visit was so fucked. i picked her up, we had a lovely conversation, and then she asked me where arch was and i had to lie to her. he said he was going to call her and let her know, but apparently he didn't. then, he didn’t show up for family dinner, which he was also supposed to help me cook (spoiler: he DIDN’T). when mom and dad asked where he was, i was like a dear caught in headlights. i have no fucking clue!! i called him, and BAM! voicemail. mom calls him and woah, he picks up first ring. he lies, and gets away with it. arch was gone all weekend which screwed up my itinerary. i mean, seeing mom was the highlight, obviously, but archie and i planned all this stuff and we didn't get to do any of it. not to mention, archie had promised he’s take mom to the airport because he was gone all weekend, and then he didn't show! again! i had plans with toni, and i had to apologize and cancel on her (which isn't fair to her or me (but fuck us i guess??)) anyway, i’m banking on archie cancelling our yearly trip to nyc with everything going on. i’d lay money on it now.
entry 6: july 1st
i’m so mad right now. archie saw me and sweet pea coming out of pop’s with lunch, and got in sweets face. he has NO RIGHT. especially considering how much he's left me hanging lately. i will admit, i did something i shouldn't have, but he said something he definitely shouldn't have (that i shant repeat here (just know it's vile)) and i then punched him. sweets then threw me over his shoulder and carried me to my car. i bruised the crap out of my hand, archie’s got a hard face i guess. toni and fangs tried to lighten the mood when we got back but i couldn't help myself. sweet pea and i ended up leaving early, and we just drove around for a while. when i finally did calm down, he thanked me for standing up for him. why wouldn't i?? archie has no right to treat any of my friends like that, let alone my maybe boyfriend (we haven't really labelled it yet). and archie’s one to talk about people’s “priorities” and who they “really” are, seeing as toni, sweet pea and fangs have done nothing but be great friends and have been there for me all summer and he (MY! TWIN! BROTHER!) couldn’t even see his mother while she was down from chicago. i haven't seen archie since our altercation at pop’s and i’m more than okay with that.
entry 7: august 15th
sweet pea and i got into a fight. it’s nothing major, and i know he’s just looking out for me, but somethings aren’t really any of his business. namely, things involving my family. i was telling him about mine and archie’s annual trip to nyc, and how this will be the first year that it’s just the two of us. mom and dad usually go with us, and it’s the highlight of our summer. i’ve been really looking forward to it, and that i’m hoping this will help mend the tear we’ve both been helping create in our relationship. i’m not going to entirely blame arch because i’ve definitely not helped… especially when i punched him in the face in july. he’s finally speaking to me again. it took a couple of weeks and awkwardly dodging each other but we’re at least talking again. which is progress i guess. we haven’t talked about it either. he just walked into my room last tuesday and started telling about this video he saw, and then everything was fine again. we’ve always been like that, but what archie said really isn’t ok, and what i did really isn’t ok either. i plan to bring it up on our trip. anyway, back to sweets, he’s worried i’m going to get super hyped up about this trip and then archie’s going to yank the carpet from under my feet (kind of like he’s been doing all summer, but i digress). we leave in two days, and so far everything seems to be going well. i should apologize to sweets before we leave though, cause i did kind of snap at him… adding that to the to-do list.
that was it, the last entry. you wrote that the night of your accident. that's why you were in your car. that's where you were headed. you close the diary, and smack it off your forehead. you close your eyes, and then let out a scream of frustration. you throw the book across your room, and pull your old phone from your pocket. you sift through your text threads, you'd sent more outgoing messages to betty, veronica and archie then they'd sent back to you for months before your accident. turns out they weren't just shitty friends afterwards.
you pause for a moment, your finger hovering over fp jones' contact. why would you have jughead's dad's number? up until hiram started causing a stir in town, jughead hadn't even been living with his dad so you never would've needed to contact him. you click it and a bunch of text messages load in.
things were falling into place for you. they were shitty friends before. you were going to need new ones regardless, that's how you ended up in friendship purgatory at riverdale high. cheryl just isn't your cup of tea, and you're still not sure how you feel about reggie after everything you witnessed this afternoon. one thing you do know; you owe some people an explanation. you close out of the messages, and go to your gallery. the first picture that you see is one of you, toni, sweet pea and fangs, your faces all pressed together cheek to cheek, smiling widely. you smile, and then suddenly it's like a damn breaks and a years worth of memories come flooding in. you drop the phone, and rush downstairs, grabbing your keys from the bowl by the front door.
"you guys are terrible fucking friends," you say, not really caring to control the level of your voice as you stomp towards your brother and his friends. "not you jug, you're fine, i'm talking about these three."
archie, veronica and betty share confused looks then look up at you. you tower over their table, anger coursing through you. you stare the three of them down quietly, eyes darting from one to the other, to the other.
"uh, didn't we already go over that?" veronica asks, her tone light and joking.
"not really," you say, "i got my memories back, and you guys were fucking terrible. what did i do to deserve being cancelled on, and forgotten about so easily by you three? especially you arch, you're my brother. my twin. you of everyone are supposed to have my back!"
betty and veronica's eyes drop to their laps, and archie freezes, his eyes wide.
"while i appreciate your apology from before archie, with all the facts, i don't accept. what you did was fucking shitty, and i never would have done that to you. never. as for you two, if you don't like me, or just don't like hanging out with me, or just don't want to be my friend, stop making plans with me. i'm done being treated like that, and if any of you want to make things right, actually make things right, you'll be able to find me with my real friends; toni, sweet pea and fangs. who, unlike you three, actually like spending time with me. and for the record, are really good people, and deserve to be treated with respect." you turn on your heels to leave, and then pause at the last booth, whipping back around, "also, fuck you guys."
you pray that you're right about this. you never hung out with them during school, so you weren't sure if they were going to be at the quarry tonight. the weather's still nice, so you're hoping that you're right. you turn onto the familiar dirt road, and catch sight of their bikes in the distance of your headlights. relief washes over you as you get closer, you see three figures walking towards you and you pull in beside the bikes, like you had so many times before. you turn the car off, and jump out.
"fucking hell, andrews! you scared the shit out of us!" you hear fangs yell, a bark of laughter leaving him.
"guys--" you say, walking closer to them, your heart beating hard against your ribs.
you almost wonder if it's going to beat right out of your chest, you're so nervous, but you're so happy to see them. you missed them.
"told you she knew who we were." sweet pea sneers, cutting you off. "what schools out so you can be friends with us again?"
"what? no--" you start but he cuts you off again.
"where were you? why are you back now?" he bites out, and toni smacks him.
"shut up and let her talk." toni says, nodding at you. "go,"
"i got into a car accident on august 17th. i have no idea how, or what happened, but i was trapped in that car for four hours, and spent two days in a coma. then when i woke up, i couldn't remember anything that happened over the last year. i now remember everything, and am really, really sorry for unintentionally ghosting you guys for six months." you pause to take a breath, and gage their reactions, "i know how this all sounds, but i promise i'm telling the truth,"
toni smirks, stepping forward to throw her arms around you, "i'm glad you're back, i fucking missed you."
you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"
"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.
you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"
"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.
she turns to look at fangs, and sweet pea and holds her hand out, “c’mon boys, cough it up.”
begrudgingly, they both pull five dollars out of their pockets and drop it into her hand. fangs then moves past her, and scoops you into a bone crushing hug.
“missed you,” he whispers, then lets you go.
“missed you too,” you smile, and the pair of them slowly slink back to the fire they’d been sitting around, giving you and sweet pea space.
sweet pea stares at you, dark eyes unreadable, his posture tense. it takes you back to how he was when you met for the first time. closed off, on guard, and analytical. you want to reach out for him, wrap yourself around him and never let go. you’re not sure he’s ready for that, so you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. your fingers catching the slip of paper he’d given you months ago, curling around it, you put it out and his eyes close briefly.
“i understand if you need space,” you say carefully, unfolding the small scrap. “but if you ever actually meant this, you have to know that i never would have left you hanging like that intentionally.”
he takes the note from you, his eyes leaving yours to look at it. he stays quiet for what feels like an eternity.
“i know.” he finally speaks, eyes still on the note. “deep down, i knew you wouldn't have left. not when you socked your brother for me. i was just so mad… at myself for what i said to you last, at you, for not following through on your text… then seeing you at school– it didn't make sense. instead of really thinking about it, like toni did, i just–” his eyes meet yours again, “i don't know, i let my fears take hold, i guess.”
"i--"
"JUST KISS ALREADY; YOU LOVE HER, HE LOVES YOU, THE END-"
"FANGS, SHUT UP!" toni yells, the sound of her smacking him and him asking her to stop follows.
you and sweet pea share a glance, and then both break out in giggles. when the giggles subside, you step closer to him, your hand landing on his shoulder.
"i love you, sweets, and if you need time—"
"i've had enough time, what i need now, is you." he says before pulling you against him, and kissing you.
he pulls back briefly, letting you catch your breath, "i love you too,"
SUMMARY — after receiving an unintelligible call from jax, you rush back to charming to discover your son, abel, has been kidnapped by camerson hayes, and worst yet, he also killed your younger brother that you practically raised.
PAIRING — exhusband!jax teller x fem!halfsack'ssister!reader | juice ortiz x reader
WORD COUNT — 3.8k
WARNINGS — established relationship(s), kidnapping, murder, death, past child neglect (about reader and her brother), divorce, premature birth, pregnancy complications, agent stahl, swearing, fighting, angst, loss of loved ones, suicidal thoughts, contemplation of suicide, cheating, allusion to smut but no description, no use of y/n (she's actually only outwardsly referenced 2 times and is referred to as miss epps or epps).
AUTHORS NOTES — just to clear somethings up; jax married reader instead of wendy, and instead of drugs being the reason abel was born early it was just due to pregnancy complications.
MASTERLIST
your heart was slamming rapidly into your ribcage, panic rolling off your skin in waves. you push the pedal to the floor, the idea of a speeding ticket not even remotely close to crossing your mind. this was your fault, it was. leaving charming, even for a few hours always felt like it had consequences. something bad always seemed to happen the moment you crossed the county line. your tires squeal as you peel into the teller-morrow parking lot, slamming your car in park as you jump out, only barely remembering to take off your seatbelt as you go. clay, piney, and opie are standing by the entrance to the clubhouse, sad expressions creasing their features.
"what happened?!" you ask, your voice loud, panicked and harsh.
the surprise on their faces from your tone has silence ringing in your ears. you'd known them for years, opie, jax and you being quite the troublesome trio through most of your youth. they'd never heard you raise your voice before, let alone the venom behind your words.
"someone answer me!" you shout, your entire body vibrates from the panic working its way down to your stomach.
you're going to puke if someone doesn't tell you what the hell is going on, and soon. you'd received a rather frantic voicemail from jax last night and hadn't been able to reach him since, which is what made you turn your car around and head for the clubhouse. his voice was shakey, and you couldn't hear a damn thing that made sense. but you know jax, and jax doesn't panic. he's dealt with and seen it all through the years, he's not easy to shake. so hearing your husband–well soon-to-be ex-husband–in that state had your mind reeling.
"kiddo, you need to take a deep breath." clay starts, attempting to sling an arm around your shoulders.
you shrug him off, "no! you need to tell me what the hell is going on, and why jax called me in a panic, and where the hell he is!"
it comes out as one rushed sentence, barely comprehensible but opie steps towards you. he rests a large hand on your shoulder, a distraught look on his face.
"we need you to take a breath, seriously, epps. i'll tell exactly what's happening, but you've barely taken a breath since walking over here, and you look like you're going to passout."
you nod, sucking in some extremely needed air. you take a second to just regulate yourself, and in that time, opie steers you over to one of the picnic tables. you sit down, back to the table and once you've calmed a little, you cross your arms and look up at him expectantly.
"alright, now, tell me."
he glances back at clay, and at his dad, before looking back to you. they turn and walk into the clubhouse, giving you two some privacy.
"cameron hayes killed your brother because he thinks gemma killed edmund,"
"w-what?" you ask, bottom lip wobbling, your head is spinning
your baby brother is... dead? eddie is dead? cameron hayes killed your brother? you shake your head, wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your flannel. you'd practically raised eddie. your mom was a drunk, and your dad had left long before you could form any memories of him. so, from ten on, you were big sister, mommy and daddy all rolled into one. you taught him manners, how to use the toilet, how to cook, how to flirt with girls, and so many more things. you'd been there for every step of his life, cheering loud enough to drown out the naysayers.
when he left for the military you were terrified that you'd get that call every parent dreds. sure, you weren't really his mom, you couldn't be with the five year age gap, but in all the areas that mattered, you were. eddie was your first kid in a twisted sense, and knowing that he'd made it all the way home from iraq, only to die at the hands of someone affiliated with the club that he loved so much shattered your heart.
"n-no, that's not possible, i-i just sp-spoke to eddie, we-we just spoke this morning. h-he said he and-and-and-and," you're spiraling, mind and heart racing faster, and faster before your expression drops, and your mind clears. "abel. he was taking tara back to jax's to get some of abel's things. where is my baby? where's abel, harry? where is my baby?"
you're sobbing uncontrollably, your entire body shaking as you slide off the seat of the picnic table, onto the concrete. opie pulls you into his chest, and you sob into his shirt. it's another first for all of them, watching you breakdown, watching you cry.
"we're going to find abel," opie says into your ear, trying to calm you down, it doesn't help, you just cry harder.
it shouldn't have happened in the first place! the club was on lockdown. losing eddie is hard enough, but losing your son in the same span of minutes is devastating. it takes you twenty minutes, but when you finally pull yourself together again you pat opie's arm, and stand up.
"where is jax?" you ask quietly, taking a deep breath.
"he's at home, we're heading over there now, let juice drive you, you shouldn't be driving right now." opie says, and you nod.
normally you'd fight him, which he's well aware of, but knowing your son is god knows where has you in an anxious tailspin. you don't have the energy to fight with anyone right now. opie walks you over to your car, tucking you into the passenger seat and waiting by the door for the other's to come out of the clubhouse.
"what happened exactly?" your voice is barely a whisper, and opie looks worried.
"are you sure you want the run down right now?" he questions, and you immediately nod, your eyes on the hood of your car.
"please, ope," its the most desperate, pathetic sound to ever cross your lips, but you have to know.
he takes a deep breath, "what tara says happened, is that gemma took off while they were out, so she sent your brother to watch over her, and she went to jax's house. stahl freaked, shot edmund hayes, gemma shot polly, and stahl pinned the blame on her. half– eddie took off to find tara, and cameron must have followed him from their safe house. cameron was going to kill abel, but your brother stepped in, and got stabbed in the process. he tied her up in the nursery, and left with abel."
"the same man who killed my brother, has my son?" you ask, and he nods. "and tara just let him take my son?"
"well, i wouldn't say that—"
"everyone's ready," juice says, stepping up to the driver's side window, pulling the door open.
"hang tight," opie says, patting your knee before closing the door, and walking over to his bike.
"hey baby," juice says softly, "i'm sorry."
you nod, but don't say anything. you pull your seatbelt on, and lean back. you and juice had been together for a couple of months, with jax's blessing of course. he'd been great, amazing even. part of you would always love jax in a way that juice would understand, and he was okay with that. knowing you would be crawling into bed with him every night was good enough to ease any worries he might have had. juice had been rock solid in your life, a shoulder you privately cried on when jax had initially asked for the divorce.
you saw it coming from a mile away, while you'd loved each other greatly, it just wasn't the same kind. you knew that in the beginning, the middle and especially at the end. you also knew that if you didn't agree, or you tried to convince him to stay, that you'd lose him for real. he'd grow to resent you, and you'd grown to hate him for resenting you. you couldn't live in a world where jax wasn't at least a part of your life in some capacity. so that meant an amicable split, and seeing him when you dropped off abel. despite what most people think about your relationship, things haven't changed.
jax is still one of your best friends, and when you're not working, you're usually at his house. your relationship label may have changed, but your relationship hadn't. opie had been the most worried when you'd told him you were getting divorced. his two best friends splitting? nightmare. but when you told him there were no hard feelings, well, he actually didn't believe you at first. it took seeing you both in action to actually understand that you were serious. then, you found out you were pregnant.
it didn't change anything, you were still getting divorced, but jax was actually really excited. he'd told you about all his worries about becoming a father, and you reassured him that he'd be great. in turn he did the same for you. he joined you at every appointment, and played a very active role in your pregnancy. he helped you find an apartment close to his house, and spent a lot of time by your side helping you with nursery set up, moving, and everything in between.
gemma was probably the most heartbroken over your split. she loved you just as much as (and sometimes more than) jax. she helped you a lot over the years, especially when she found out about her grandbaby. gemma made the transition from wife, to ex and baby momma so much easier. she was a cheerleader for you, and always in your corner. you were incredibly lucky to have them, and be in the situation you were in. tara on the other hand... she was the opposite. gemma clocked it the moment you went into labour prematurely.
you'd been stressed over work, being the only manager on an already understaffed team was difficult but so was being pregnant. you'd never planned on getting pregnant, so there were a lot of things at work you decided were to be dealt with later. the moment you found out, you were trying your damnedest to get things ready. the stress got to you, and manifested itself in making your pregnancy high risk, and then landing you in the hospital way earlier than you should have been. it was obvious to you the moment jax came to see you after abel was born that tara thought it was your fault.
later it became clear to you that she just didn't like you, something you didn't notice in your teen years. you'd never really spent any time with her then, but the more time you spent with her after your son's birth, because lets face it anytime you went to visit jax she was there. all smiles, and cooing at your son until jax left the room, and then a scowl and general disinterest in you reared its ugly head. now things were different. she let a terrorist kill your baby brother, and kidnapp your son. karma was about to take her ass for a ride, and you were going to be driving.
"hey," juice says, his warm hand finding yours over the center console, snapping you from your thoughts. "we're here,"
you turn your head, and see clay speaking to tara in the doorway. your vision goes dark. you don't even remember getting out of the car, let alone walking over to tara and grabbing a handful of her hair. you're yelling is incomprehensible, but it's obvious to onlookers that you're sobbing as you beat the shit out of her. you come to again with juice's arms around you, pulling you into the house, and opie pulling tara inside into a different room. your only injury is three claw marks across your cheek, but tara is quite a bit worse for ware.
"what the hell were you thinking?!" jax snaps at you, upon pulling you away from juice, and into abel's nursery.
"i was thinking about how that bitch let some guy take my fucking baby and kill my baby brother!" you scream at him, breaking down all over again. "my baby..."
his expression softens, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. you sob into his shoulder, loud, heartbreaking, borderline violent wails.
"i'm sorry about your brother, i really am, but you can't blame tara."
you pull back, weaseling away from his grip, "can't i?"
"it could have happened to anyone, it could have happened to you."
"i would have died, jackson, and i think you better than anyone knows that. i would have died for abel. for eddie. i would not have let that man get away with everything i love." you say, sobering, violent, hot anger courses through you. "i would have died or killed him. i wouldn't have let him walk out the door."
he just stares at you. his once bright blue eyes dark, like the light behind them died. you know he knows exactly how you feel. that he blames tara to some degree. but you don't really care. you're numb. your heart aching in a way you've never felt before. in a way you'd never wish upon your worst enemy. tara included, despite what she did. the worst part is you don't have the one person you want to talk to about it. eddie died protecting her, and his nephew. what did tara do? she let herself get tied up, let cameron take your baby, let cameron kill your brother. tara lost nothing, and once again, you've lost everything.
"i want to kill her jax," you say finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, his sad eyes just staring back at you. "that's not rational, not right. but i've just lost the two single most important people in my life, and i want to kill her for it."
"i understand what you're saying, why you're saying it," he says slowly, "but you're right, it's not rational."
"when abel comes home, she's not allowed to be around him by herself. i don't care what that means. i don't feel comfortable with her being alone with our son." you tell him, fingers grasping the cool leather of his kutte to pull him in closer. "i don't want to see, hear or think about her until then, and you bet your ass, i'm coming with you to bring him home, whatever, and wherever that takes us."
jax briefly looks scared of you, but he collects himself just as quickly as you let him go, and brush past him back out the way you came.
"you're lucky you're not dead," you seeth, flipping tara off with both hands as you walk back out to your car.
worried about your well-being and your mental state, jax sends juice home with you when you leave. the drive to your apartment, albeit quick, is silent. how does one comfort someone who lost both their only child, and only brother in a matter of minutes? besides, juice knows you well enough to know that you'll talk when you're ready. if you're ever ready. and right now? you don't know if you'll ever be. the fear of unraveling that far scares you. so for now, you think positively, and you keep moving forward.
it takes four hours, before agent stahl is in your living room, sitting on your couch. juice stands in the kitchen, watching the exchange from the sink, where he's washing your lunch dishes.
"so, mrs teller, where were you yesterday afternoon?" she asks, and you immediately understand why the club hates the woman so much.
"the divorce might not be finalized yet, but it's miss epps, and i was half-way to seattle."
"ah, yes, i forgot about that... why were you heading to seattle?"
"i don't really see how that's going to get my son back, seeing as you know who took him already."
"we need to get a picture together of everyone's movements."
"i got a phone call a few days ago, my mother's in the hospital there. she wanted to see me, so i was going."
"as i understand it, you aren't close with your mother?"
"no. look, agent stahl, this isn't helping. get your ass out there and look for my son. you're the reason my brother died, i'm not interested in you being the reason my son dies too. do your fucking job." you abruptly stand up, and walk into the kitchen.
you want to throw something. you want to scream. you want to be violent and aggressive. you miss your brother. you miss your baby. you want them back. most of all, you want this nightmare to be over.
when jax tells you they're heading to ireland, you pack light, but take abel's favourite stuffed animal, a white bear with a blue hat, mitts, scarf and booties. you carry the bear with you, hugging it tightly when you worry you're about to fall apart. jax's reassuring hand on your knee, and juice's hand in yours keeps your grounded. you lose yourself a little every time you think you're going to see abel, and then are denied at the last moment.
when father ashby finally drops the bomb on you and jax; that he'd been adopted, sold to another family, you break down. father ashby tries to comfort you, but nothing he says changes anything.
"i don't care about your fucking god, i don't. i don't care about your promise to john teller. i want my fucking baby back. your cousin has caused me enough pain; by killing my fucking brother. don't make the mistake of keeping my son from me." you scream, uncaring who hears you. "i'm sure you know the saying desperate people, do desperate things. desperate doesn't even begin to cover what i am, and what i'm willing to do to get abel in my arms, and back home."
you lay in bed all day, the blanket pulled up over your head, your eyes squeezed closed, the bear tucked under your arm. you've felt sick from the moment you'd heard that abel might be gone. whisked away by some—in their defence, probably oblivious, but lovely—couple, about to be taken god knows where. the very notion, that you could go home empty handed hurts, burns, stabs at your heart. you feel like someone's cut you open, and taken a knife to your chest. poking and proding at all the parts you should never poke and prod at.
you've never felt worse in your life; physically, mentally, and emotionally. you're drained, exhausted, and contemplating ending your life. you've never felt so low. you're almost embarrassed as the idea crosses your mind, but the longer you stew, the longer it seems like a really appealing idea. incredibly selfish, but desperation is like that. you weren't sure how jax was downstairs, enjoying the night, the party, the people... how he wasn't suffocating, like you were. everthing is falling apart, collapsing around you, and he's acting like everything's a-ok.
you don't hear the bedroom door open, but you startle when you feel the bed dip behind you. fight mode activates, and you leap from the bed, eyes scanning for a weapon. then you see jax's face in the reflection of the window, your heart rate slows.
"you asshole, make some noise when you move around. i thought i was about to get murdered..." you close your eyes, hands dropping to your sides. "why are you here?"
"i'm so sorry," his voice is barely a whisper, you vaguely make out the trembling of his bottom lip, and the tears streaming down his face. "this never– never should have happened."
your expression softens, and you sink back down on the small bed. you pull jax in, his head resting on your shoulder as you hold him. you'd only ever seen him cry a few times, but that was usually how you could tell he was past his breaking point. jax always perseveres, pushing forward. you're the slightly unstable, completely unhinged one. he's the calm, rational thinker.
"i don't blame you." you tell him, "i don't even blame tara, anymore. i blame stahl. it's her fault all this shit happened. had she not shot edmund, none of this would have happened."
he nods against your shoulder, then lifts his head. the kiss is unexpected, but not unwelcome or unwanted. the sex is fantastic, it always is with jax, but it just further complicates an already complicated situation. it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened come morning when juice pops his head into the room to see how you're doing. he's hurt, but he understands to an extent. he loves abel. he loves you and by extension abel is part of you, so what's not to love? under normal circumstances, he knows this would not be an issue, but nothing about what's happening is normal.
he knows you're grieving, he knows as abel's father, jax can relate to your struggles more than anyone. what he doesn't understand, is why, even while in the midst of a divorce, the pair of you would do something like that. how despite this, he shoves his concerns aside, and closes the door, banging heavily on it to wake the pair of you. he doesn't avoid your eye, or not take your hand when you reach for his, or walk out of every room you walk into. he instead, keeps his mouth shut, and supports you. the guilt gnaws at you, and you spend the majority of the day avoiding jax, and he you (and juice).
after your night with jax, you brush your hair, actually get dressed, and spend the afternoon playing cards with juice, opie and happy, and try really hard to feel normal. it works for a few hours, until you find out that your son has been taken, again from his new adopted parents, and that they were brutally murdered in their hotel room. discovering jimmy was behind it surprises no one, but sets you into yet another tailspin. terrified of what could happen to him, terrified that jimmy would kill him if he got too annoying.
luckily, your fears never play out, because father ashby trades himself for abel. when jax walks back through the doors of the apartment you'd all been staying in, with abel in his arms you can't help the happy tears. shaky, holding your breath, hand over your mouth, you stare at your unharmed baby in jax's arms. seeing abel for the first time in what feels like an eternity is like a cold water shock to your system. when jax hands him over to you, letting you finally hold your son after weeks without him.
he smiles up at you, cooing softly, and reaching for your hair. it's like every bad, anxiety moment slips away. it doesn't matter that he was gone, all that matter's is that he's home, in your arms, surrounded by all the people who fought to bring him home, his family.
A/N — i just wanna say a quick thank you to everyone who liked my other eddie headcanons post, i wasn't expecting all the love, but i appreciate it immensely :))
MASTERLIST
BACK | NEXT
when he likes someone, he thinks he's being really subtle, but he's not
him, a stuttering, nervous wreck; "uh hey, cool shirt"
you, deadpan; "it's your shirt, that you gave me to wear, because you thought i'd look cute in it"
always tries to impress you in silly ways
"wanna see how fast i can run?"
"bet i can jump and hit that sign without running"
"i caught you a squirrel because you said they were cute that one time"
is touch starved
as such, he will always be touching you in some capacity; hand on your knee while in class, hand on your thigh or fingers interlaced with yours while driving, he will sit on you if there's nowhere for him.
when you hug him, kiss him, or cuddle with him he will hold on and refuse to let you go until you're late, like really late, you'd have to leave ten minutes ago late.
is big on pet names when you're alone, but mostly calls you by your last name or a shortened version of your name when in public
he's big on baby, sweetheart, dollface.
angel and prince/princess are reserved for when he's fucked up royally, or you're sad or sleepy.
will touch everything you own
perfume/cologne sitting on your dresser? sprayed himself in the face with it the first time he picked it up, but really liked how it smelled so he puts a spitz on every time you leave him alone in your room. just spent the day at the pool and he needs to shower at yours? he will use your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion and even your deodorant "do you want me to stink? :(". every time he comes in he finds something new to play with. old stuffie under your bed? he's carrying it around/hugging it/holding it until he leaves. trinkets on the top of your bed frame? he'll make them talk to each other when he's bored.
has a hard time sleeping when you're not close
he and sleep have rarely ever been on the same page, so he finds things to do to occupy his time, so when he's in a relationship that usually means he's dragging you along with him; be it going for a swim at 2am at lovers lake, a quick trip to the gas for snacks, or just straight up falling ungracefully through your window and crawling into bed with you to try and grab a couple hours of sleep (while simultaneously scaring the shit out of you because you were already sleeping).
because of the above, he will constantly nap around you while you're hanging out
you're his safe space, he spends most of his time in your presence passed out; laying on his back on the floor with his legs tossed over the side of your bed with his feet tucked under your thigh while you study, arms crossed over his chest while you're head's in his lap as you read out loud to him – he swears he's awake but every so often he lets out a soft snore, sitting on the couch watching a romcom with his head on your shoulder as he struggles to keep his eyes open, literally any time you touch his head/hair he's out like a light.
100% is glued to your side and tells everyone you're his best friend as well as his gf/bf
he goes on errands with you and spends 99% of his free time with you, he drags you along to band practice — which you usually use as an opportunity to feed baked goods to his bandmates (who absolutely adore you for it), when he's working you usually sit around with him passing him tools as he needs them — "uh need 9/16 wrench–" and it's already in your hand like you read his mind.
when you're not around, brags about you to anyone who will listen to him, and carries a picture (that he switches out for newer ones he takes) of you in his wallet that he shows off constantly — "look how cute they are" "my girlfriend/boyfriend is hotter".
writes songs about you
sometimes he'll write them just for himself, or for your ears only recording them on a tape just for you to have a reminder of how much he loves you.
you better believe that wayne loves you for being a good influence on him
you make him eat all breakfast, lunch & dinner — before you he would forget to eat and usually pumped himself full of caffeine only, you get him a reuseable water bottle (which you bribe him to carry it around and actually drink from it) — to his credit he now drinks at least one full bottle, you make him wear sunscreen & a hat on sunny days, waterproof footwear and jacket on rainy/snowy days (he's shocked when he doesn't get sick as often).
at first wayne was wary of you, unsure of whether your intentions were genuine or if you were going to pull one over on eddie — which disappeared the first time he came home from work and saw you too cuddled up on the couch watching one of eddie's favourite movies (it was the way you were staring at him as he shared his favourite parts or something he read about it, or a fact about the filming/production — wayne tells this story at your wedding all teary eyed about his eddie being all grown up and so very obviously loved).
takes photos of you all the time
cutesy date night photos, spicy half-naked photos (or just straight up naked naked), you sleeping, you making an ugly face, you mid-sneeze, you smiling, he has it all caught on film and he loves each and every photo so much.
total softie for you and you alone
you've gotten him to do things he's straight up refused to do for his friends, and even wayne
does literally anything you ask, and even sometimes you don't have to ask, he just does it because he knows it'll make you happy and that's all he strives for, you being happy.
will start 16 tasks then realize he didn't finish the first one so he will go back and then turn around and do the same thing until he's finished them all
will make himself something to eat or drink, and then go back to the livingroom/his room and get hungry/thirsty only to find thr drink or snack waiting for him because he forgot it the first time
puts things down and then 'loses' them constantly!! it's literally in front of your face pretty boy!!!
obsessed with music, and absolutely hates silence
he literally cannot function if there's silence
cleaning the kitchen? he's blasting metallica. in the shower? black sabbath on full volume and you better believe he's doing every (air) guitar solo, and singing along the whole time. getting ready for bed/falling alseep? his favourite dio album is turned down low enough it won't bother wayne, but it's playing until he either passes out and it clicks off, or he's putting on another album
isn't a music genre snob but in the same breath will tell you he'd rather die than listen to country music
despite his stance on country music, loves willy nelson and johnny cash (because who doesn't???)
loves animals and would kill if he caught someone abusing them
cries watching kitty/puppy videos, because they're so damn innocent and too good for humanity and this world
he physically cannot watch those ads about abused animals, will turn the tv off or leave the room (will still get misty eyed just thinking about the poor babies)
will steal animals he sees being mistreated, and will either beg wayne to let him keep them or rehome them to somewhere they'll be loved and properly cared for (he goes and visits them periodically too)
super flirty with people, especially if you're on the shyer side, or are an old lady
if he notices you're shy/insecure he'll lay it on thick (loves seeing people blush/get flustered)
loves old ladies, like grandma's, always tells them they don't look old enough to have children let alone grandchildren or gasp, great grandchildren
gets easily flustered when people flirt with him
he's a natural flirt, unless someone flirts first/or flirts back – then his brain short circuits and he's completely thrown off his game
very gentlemanly
holds open doors for everyone, doesn't matter if you're a man, woman, etc, also doesn't matter how far from the door you are, he will hold it if he sees you coming in his direction — respects wait staff, janitors, etc (always leaves a good tip because people suck, and wait staff deserve to be treated well and tipping is essential!!!)
is a good cook/terrible baker
loves to try new recipes, loves experimenting with his cooking, wayne taught him the basics and then eddie started cooking super all the time for them, making sure wayne was well fed
also can make delicious food out of things you would never expect!!
do not try the cookies/muffins/cupcakes/etc. just don't he doesn't realize that baking soda and baking powder are different things!!!! he will make you the saltiest baked goods you've ever tried!!!
looks like a black cat is infact a golden retriever
he is a silly, goofy, happy boy!! he likes meeting new people, making new friends, (also thinks hes a lap dog)
has zero spatial awareness
he flings his hands/arms around like there's no one else on the planet often results in accidentally hitting someone or almost hitting someone
walks into things in his eyeline that he can see are coming closer, or tries to dodge things when they get close enough instead of just moving over half an inch
bumps his head, stubs his toes a lot, trips or almost trips like once an hour
will bump into your if you're walking beside him, he has a bad habit of nearly shoving people into walls because of how close he gets
apologizes to inanimate objects that he bumps into on the regular
taught himself to play the guitar, drums and piano
when he was a kid his grandparents had a little standing piano in their living room and he'd mess around with it, and then he heard a song on the radio he really liked that had a piano in it so he sat down and over christmas break he taught himself how to play the song, and then how to play some more songs — he only ever seeks out a piano when he's sad now
wayne got him a kid sized drum set for christmas one year, and he played with it until it ultimately broke apart — he taught gareth to play drums
his love of playing guitar came from his father, who before and abandoning eddie taught him a couple chords, and gave him his first guitar — it was an acoustic but it was the only good gift his father ever gave him
cannot stay still
fidgets with his rings, taps his foot, clicks pens (until everyone around his is annoyed), picks at peeling paint, stickers, etc, doodles on himself constantly
has hearing loss from how loud he plays his music + not wearing ear protection at band practices
its mostly because of how loud he cranks his music in the van, never realizes how bad it is until he gets in in the morning for work/school and nearly deafens himself but also scares himself so bad that sometimes he dumps his coffee all over the place
has a terrible memory
writes lists/important 'to do's' on the top of his hand/wrist because he always forgets something, he always has something written down — and despite this still forgets
reuses jokes that aren't that funny but will die laughing upon every delivery
walks into hell fire weaing the same shirt as every friday session and will say "oh that's embarrassing, we've all worn the same thing" ((also not my head canon but it's so funny and i can't stop thinking about it so i had to add it))
is always reading something
be it a horror novel, a dnd manual, something someone recommended to him, he always has a book on/with him
loves thunderstorms and rain
he finds it calming, the rhythmic beating of the rain hitting the metal of the trailer roof, a kind of music in its own right
he likes to sit in the doorway and watch as it pours down, just sitting there, feeling the mist of cool water that sprays up
under absolutely no circumstances does he fuck with porcelain dolls
their eyes are creepy and they follow you, 'nough said
loves halloween more than any other holiday
dresses up every year with zero regard for what anyone thinks, loves to scare kids, always has the most elaborate set up so that he can sit out in the yard and watch/be apart of the scaring
is a lover
doesn't really have many preferences for a partner, isn't really set on a specific gender, body type, age, etc
i'm of the belief that eddie would love you for loving him
terrible at fighting
he prefers not to fight, which is why he wears rings, so if he has to at least that might get them to back off
so good at gift giving
he remembers that one thing you mentioned that one time like nine years ago and anytime he sees something that reminds him of you he gets it
prefers to make gifts for people, and always gets them something they love/need
touring with corroded coffin means late night shenanigans; stealing shopping carts, running through the streets of cities you never thought you'd get to visit, wearing traffic cones and pretending to fight at two am, jumping into eddie's arms when the band comes off stage, amongst other things. life is good, life is a dream.
you knew eddie before; before the fame, before the awards, before the money. you'd always been his biggest fan, the band's biggest fan. your custom corroded coffin tshirt with "im with the band" written on the back was a gift from eddie, and a not so subtle hit to those around you in the crowd that you were off limits. not that you were interested anyway, too taken by eddie in his element. you never cared about any of the trival things, you were just happy your boyfriend had brought you along for the ride as they finally got to recognition they deserved and you couldn't be prouder.
SUMMARY — loosely inspired by the song cheyenne by ian munsick. every year he never asks anything from you, resigned to the routine you've created; you pull into the yellowstone, park your trailer, and spend all your time with him, and then when august rolls around you pack it all in, and leave. this year, instead of dancing around the heartache, he [and a few others] ask you to stay.
PAIRING — fem!reader x lee dutton
WORD COUNT — 4.1k
WARNINGS — established friends with benefits type relationship, lee has been in love with reader since they met, pinning, allusions to smut, lee watches reader get dressed – reader puts on a show, no use of y/n — everyone calls her honey as a nickname, mentions of heartbreak, mentions of murder (not overly graphic), mentions of past abuse, angst
MASTERLIST
you put your truck in park, tucked along the side of the house like you always do. you open the trailer up, lead you horse peaches out into the fenced off area out front, and then wander up the front steps and into the house. you kick off your boots, and pad through the hallway, taking in the view from the living room windows. you enter the open concept kitchen, grabbing a beer and setting to work on tidying up. you start with the dishes, there aren't as many as there were last time.
next, you sweep, the build up of dirt he's tracked into the house has you frowning. after, you throw laundry in — your own clothes first of course. next is vacuuming, followed by grabbing the load of groceries from your cold box in your truck. lastly, you step into the shower, watching the setting sun as you deep condition your hair and shave your legs. when you wrap yourself in your towel you hear the front door open, a pair of boots falling heavily on the hardwood floor.
"honey," lee breathes out, a wide smile on his face as he steps into the warm room, and enveloping you in his arms, his lips latching onto your own.
"hi," you giggle, through pecks to your lips, followed by him slipping his tongue into your mouth.
you allow it for a few moments, relishing in his closeness. you untangle yourself from him, making him frown cutely at you. you give him a teasing smile, and peck him on the lips once more.
"i just swept, and washed those floors of yours, lee dutton. i'm not impressed," you slip past him in your bath towel, tsking at him as you go.
"i'm sorry honey, allow me to make it up to you," he says, a devious smile on his lips, as he follows you into his bedroom.
he catches you by the end of the bed, arms circling your waist as he pulls you flush with his chest. you look up at him throughout your eye lashes, and he bites his lip looking down into your eyes. he dips his head, resting his forehead on your shoulders, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. you want so badly to give in, but you have plans tonight.
"sorry cowboy," you murmur, pushing him away, turning towards his closet—where you keep a sizable amount of your clothes. "you need to shower, and get dressed."
"dressed? for what?" he groans dropping onto the end of the bed, slipping off his boots.
"the carnival? you promised tate last summer we'd be there to ride on the rollercoaster with him?" you say, glancing at him over your shoulder.
"you remember that?" he asks, rasing an eyebrow at you.
you giggle, dropping your towel to put on your underwear. lee moans quietly at the view of your naked body. you slowly pull them up, bending over to give him a full view of your bum. he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes never leaving your skin as you tease him.
you nod, "i do, and he's only text me about it everyday since – so y'know, it'd be hard to forget."
"yeah..." he agrees with you absentmindedly, eyes clinging to your chest as you twist your bra around your chest pulling it up. "hard to– hard to forget."
you make a show of putting your arms through the straps, and pulling the cups up. lee hangs off your every move, his fascination with your body not ending even with your boobs covered. his eyes rake up and down your figure, his eyes dark, and his bottom lip betweeen his teeth as he works through something silently. you feel smug with satisfaction as you step closer, slinging one leg over either side of his hips. you sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing his attention back up to your face.
"baby," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.
"mhmm," he hums, hands landing on your hips.
"you promised,"
he nods, "i did,"
"but?"
his grip on your hips tightens, briefly, then retract.
"nothing, honey, i can wait." he leans in closer to your ear, "but tonight, i'm not going to be able to stop myself."
a shiver goes up your spine, goosebumps exploding over your arms. you missed that. he easily lifts you off his lap, setting you beside him. he stands, heading into the bathroom to shower, the door clicking closed calmly behind him. you sit there, surprised by his show of restraint. he doesn't normally do that, normally he would have had your face pressed into the mattress in a seconds notice. after taking a second to collect yourself, you stand up, and walk back over to the closet.
you pick out a dark green summer dress, a pair of brown cowboy boots in better shape than the ones you'd worn here. you grab a cardigan, and a cowboy hat that matches your boots. you then go back into the kitchen, and grab your cellphone from where you'd left it charging. two missed messages from monica dutton long.
hi aunt honey it's tate! excited to see you and uncle lee tonight rollercoster here we come!
hey, it's monica, just wanted to let you and lee know we'll be by the ticket booth. tate's very excited, see you at 9.
ten minutes pass, and lee is walking down the hallway. he's wearing a button that coincidentally matches your dress, his good hat and his best boots. he looks refreshed, the stress of the day washed away, and a easy smile on his face.
"well don't you look handsome," you smile, stepping into his embrace.
he kisses you deeply, your knees go weak, his arm sliding around your back steadying you. he smirks into your lips, and you pull back rolling your eyes playfully at him. you forgot how much you enjoyed being here, being with him.
"honey, you are the most beautiful woman i have ever met; dressed up like this, or covered in sweat and dirt from a long day."
your heartaches at his confession; it's temporary, you'll be gone again come the end of august. then the cycle continues. you smile, enjoy it now. lee's always been your favourite, it's why you keep coming back. he always knows what to say to make your knees weak, and how to break your heart.
"we'd better go," you say, ignoring the disappointment in his eyes as you walk away.
you're always walking away.
"i had so much fun!" tate yells, hoisting the matching bear to yours over his head.
"and now he's going to take forever to get to sleep tonight," monica laughs, "thanks for the sugar rush, aunt honey."
"pshhh, he'll crash the minute you get him in the truck." you reply, "and no problem, i live for these moments,"
"it was good seeing you, honey." monica says, pulling you into a hug.
"you too mon, we need to get coffee before i leave." you tell her, giving her a light squeeze.
"why don't you stay?" she asks, watching as tate makes a beeline for the truck, climbing into the backseat as kayce follows behind him, chatting with lee.
"i can't," you can't tear your eyes away from lee's back as he talks with his youngest sibling, which doesn't go unnoticed by his sister-in-law.
"why not? you and lee act like a married couple and besides; you're perfect for each other." her tone is gentle, like she's talking to an easily spooked animal.
"because..." you debate telling her the truth, the real reason you run every year, and your heart wins out over your rational thinking. "i know that he'll always be there this way, i don't think he'd want me if he had me fulltime."
"how could you possibly think that? lee looks at you like you personally hung the moon, sun and stars. he's so in love with you," she says, smiling softly at you. "you have to know that by now. he turns into a completely different person when you're gone."
"i know he is, i see it in the way he looks at me. i just– i'm terrified of ruining what we have. i'm not an easy person to love, i've been told that my whole life; i'm impulsive, stubborn, bossy, rude, selfish.... he doesn't deserve someone like that. he deserves someone who's sweet, and kind, and... good." you say, "someone like him."
"i don't know... the way you describe yourself; that's not the person i see. i see someone so full of love, and life, someone that helps others no matter what, honey, i've literally seen you give someone the shirt off your back. whoever's pumped your head full of that hate, was trying to convince you you're evil, when you're not. you're none of those things."
"i appreciate that, i'm not sure you're entirely right, but thank you." you shoot her a half smile, and squeeze her shoulder before you break away, walking towards lee's truck.
he meets you halfway, entwining your fingers, and pulling you closer.
he smiles at you, "that was fun,"
"i knew you'd have a good time,"
"thank you for making me come tonight,"
"thank you for winning me a big ass teddy bear," you reply, holding the giant black bear. "i love him, and i'm going to call him dusty,"
"dusty, eh?" he qestions, pulling your door open for you.
"do you have any better ideas?" you quiry, sliding into your seat.
he leans against the passenger door, his head tilted to the side as he thinks. after a few seconds he shakes his head, ducking down to kiss you once. twice. three times before closing the door and walking around to the drivers side.
"wanna grab a pizza on the way?" he asks, and you nod excitedly. "barneys?"
"barneys!" you say it at the same time, and he laughs, patting your left thigh.
three weeks later, you're sitting in one of the muskoka chairs up by the main house, a blanket over your legs as you and tate roast marshmallows.
"yours is burning!" tate says, pointing to your marshmallow.
"i love them burnt!" you reply, watching as it catches fire.
"that's weird," tate makes a face, "burnt ones are gross,"
"nuh-huh, they're the best!"
"no! golden ones are!"
"ewwww," comes lee's voice from behind the two of you, "marshmallows? gross!"
"i agree with you there," kayce says, from his chair across the fire pit.
"i second it, too sweet." john adds from beside kacey, and tate looks shocked.
"grandpa! you don't like marshmallows?"
john shakes his head, a disgusted look on his face.
"that's devastating," tate says, and monica lets out a snort of laughter.
"who taught you that word?" she asks, trying to keep a straight face as he stares her down.
"aunt honey, she says it a lot." tate shrugs, turning back to the fire.
monica gives you a quizzical look, as lee sits down beside you, between your chair and hers on your right side. so i don't say fuck in front of your kid, you mouth at her, and she nods in understanding.
"cause i'm trying not to corrupt you," you add, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to give him a quick hug.
"yeah, besides, his dad does a good enough job on his own." lee chuckles making kayce roll his eyes, and flip his brother off while tate's looking away.
"how long are you down for now?" john asks, when the conversation dies down.
your eyes snap to lee, who's looking staight ahead into the darkness. monica and kayce exchange a look before they both take turns glancing at you, and lee.
"uh, 'm not sure just yet," you say awkwardly, your shoulders tensing automatically.
you feel like a dear caught in the headlights. john nods, his attention being stolen by rip who materializes next to him. feeling like john just smacked you, you excuse yourself, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, and making your way to lee's house. you sit out on the steps, thinking about what you were doing. i'm not good for lee. staying would be a mistake, it would ruin what we have. then i'd be all alone again. you're not sure how long you'd been sat alone, staring off into the dark when you hear lee's boots crunching gravel.
"you okay?" you ask him, and his eyebrows pull together in confusion.
"i'm fine, are you, okay?"
you force yourself to nod, "of course,"
he reaches out for your hand, and you immediately give it to him, allowing him to guide you up into the house. you shed your uggs, blanket, jacket, sweatpants and sweater, when you enter his bedroom. you crawl into bed, pulling the blankets up and waiting for him to crawl in next to you. he does, turning the lights off, and shimmying close to you. you rest your head on his chest, and even after you hear his soft snoring, you can't fall alseep. you lay there, eyes closed trying to sleep, but then the first ray of light speaks into the room.
before you know it, it's six am, and lee's softly shifting you over so he can go shower. you stare up at the ceiling, unmoving. the room is still dark, and when he steps out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, and his hair dripping wet. you pretend to be sleeping when he leans over the bed to give your temple a quick kiss, before he heads down to the bunkhouse. you lie there, staring up at the ceiling, your mind racing. you met lee at a bar in town when you were eighteen, you'd been passing through, on your way to your next race, when he'd caught your eye.
you ended up spending the month curled up in his sheets, praying that it would never end. but like all good things in your life, it did. you'd had a blow out fight about something ridiculous, and after he fell asleep that night you left. you found yourself passing through the following summer, part of you praying you'd see him again. and you did. he sat perched on a bar stool, chatting with rip and two other hands from the ranch. rip saw you first, a knowing smile on his lips, then the other two—who you later came to know as colby and ryan—their conversation fizzled out quickly.
lee had stood, ready to leave for the night, but when he twisted around on that bar stool, he saw you standing there. a smile broke out on his face, and the next thing you knew, you were face down on his mattress, and all was forgotten. it was a cycle that repeated itself for years, this being your tenth summer returning to yellowstone. you couldn't help yourself, there was just something so magnetic about him. you couldn't stay away even if you tried. you show up, play house, counting down the days until a fight breaks out and then you disappear like leaves in the wind.
this time something was different though. everyone around you seemed to be trying to get you to stay. you'd had conversations with kayce, beth, tate, monica and even rip. that was the one you kept rolling over the most. you'd had a similar childhood as he did, but instead of you ending things, your father took your mother and two younger sister's lives then his own. you were seventeen. the only things you had left after that, was your horse, peaches, your truck and trailer. other than some clothes, that was all. you were a traveller, rarely staying in one spot long enough to form any meaningful connections.
lee and the dutton's were an anomaly to that. maybe that was why you always came back, but you couldn't be sure. rip had intercepted you just before supper one night, and despite never having had a much of a real conversation (besides small talk) in your ten years as acquaintances, you sat and listened to what he had to say. rip being a man of few words, had talked to–well more like at you–for twenty minutes. in that time, he'd managed to make you really wonder if running was the best option. you can only run for so long, eventually you'll be too old too, and then what? what would you have to show for it?
you phone goes off on the nightstand, and you sigh, forcing yourself to sit up. monica dutton long. you hit answer, and greet her.
"sorry, were you sleeping?"
"no, no, you're fine. what can i do for you?"
"tate was hoping you'd be up for a ride, i've packed a picnic, and kayce and lee said they'd meet us for lunch."
"sure, that sounds fun," you smile softly, your head screaming, see? you'd miss this if you left. you always do. "i'll get peaches ready, and meet you down at the barn,"
"awesome, tate's already excited. see you down there,"
you hang up, and slide out of bed. your feet hit the hard wood floor, and you go through your routine. you brush your teeth, put on a ballcap, and then throw on a t-shirt, jeans and your boots. you grab a bag of the cookies you bakes yesterday, and jump onto the four wheeler lee leaves for you so you can get around the far without using your truck. over the years, you've noticed that lee gets weird about your truck. it's probably because anytime you go near it, you're usually hauling ass out of yellowstone. you blink away the thought, and head down towards the barn.
lloyd is standing in the bunkhouse doorway when you park the four wheeler, "coffee?"
"oh, yes please." you nod, and he disappears inside returning moments later with a mug for you. "thanks, lloyd."
"you're welcome sweetheart," he smiles at you, and the pair of you stand in a comfortable silence, enjoying your coffee. "y'know, it's nice seeing you around here again,"
the guilt you've felt since you stepped into lee's house flairs back to life, and you nod, forcing a small smile. you go to walk towards the stall's, and he catches your elbow pulling you back.
"i know you've heard it a lot since you got back," he says, staring you down, "but everytime you leave; it's like lee loses part of him... you know that saying, "behind every good man, there's a great woman"? lee needs his great woman around. he needs you around,"
your eyes fill with tears, and you're sobbing before you have much of a chance to try and keep yourself together. lloyd's eyes go wide, and if you weren't losing your mind, you'd have laughed. he guides you into the bunkhouse, closing the door behind him. you plop down at the table, and try to calm yourself. lloyd stares at you, waiting patiently.
"i'm sorry," you mumble, using the shoulder of your shirt to wipe your eyes. "i don't know why that happened,"
"i didn't mean to push you," lloyd tells you, a look of guilt in his eyes.
"no, oh god no, please don't. this isn't your fault. i just..." you trail off looking at your feet. "can i vent for a minute?"
he nods, pulling out a chair and sitting beside you, "please,"
"i come from a pretty fucked up family," you start, lee doesn't even know about what happened to your family. you liked it that way, because every time you give someone an insight into your background, their perspective changed and they started treating you like glass. "i mean, who's isn't? mine... well, mine is a different kind of fucked up. my dad snapped one night, murdered my mom, two baby sisters, and then killed himself. no one's really sure why he did it; he was abusive as shit, sure, but that– that was a kind of rage he never displayed before. he didn't leave a note, he just did it, and then shot himself in the head. go figure the old bastard went the easy way,"
you sigh leaning forward resting your head in your hands, "i started running that night. i'd snuck out to see a boy, and came home to find them all dead. i just took off. had i not snuck out, i would be just like them. i don't have friends, i don't have any family, i've tried to keep to myself but when i met lee... my desire to be isolated changed. i just wanted to be with him. when i'm not here, all i can think about is whether he's safe or not. he's all i think about, but... my dad made it incredibly clear to me growing up that i was a burdern, unlovable, worthless, a waste of space... that kind of thing is difficult to just forget. he told me that everyday, for seventeen years. the scariest part of it all, is that i have my father's rage. i don't want to be like him, but i'm terrified that if i'm too close, i won't see it and it'll be too late."
you look up at lloyd, tears in your eyes, "he told me i wasn't worth loving, and i believe him. i hate leaving, i'm tired of it, but i'm terrified."
someone clears their throat from the doorway, the pair of you jumping at the noise. you turn your head, and see lee standing there, clutching the doorknob so tightly his fingers turn white. lloyd clears his throat, and stands, leaning down only to give your hand a light squeeze. lloyd leaves, and lee closes the door. it takes four long strides before lee is pulling you to your feet by your elbow, and crashing his lips to yours. you're surprised by the action, but melt into his touch. when the pair of you pull apart, breathing heavily, he rests his forehead against yours.
"i love you," he breaths, "you are worthy of love, you deserve happiness, and you are good."
your eyes water, again.
"how do you know i'm not a monster?" you whisper.
"because i know you. you bake cookies when you can't sleep, you pick up spiders and take them outside instead of killing them despite the fact that you're terrified of them, you close your eyes every time you see roadkill because it makes you sad that an animal died, you'd sooner adopt every animal than see them suffer, cute animals excite you, you're scared of thunder but always put on a brave face for tate because you don't want him to freak out, you hold doors open for everyone, and pay for peoples groceries or meal if they can't afford it. you are light, you are warmth, you are so damn good."
you bury your face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably as he holds you tightly. never in the ten years that lee has known you, has he ever seen your eyes water, let alone see you cry. someone knocks softly on the door, and then monica pokes her head in.
"oh, sorry– i was just going to ask if you guys were ready, but if now doesn't work–"
"no, now's good," you say, pulling your face away from his chest. "we were just–"
"she's staying," lee cuts you off, and she lets out an excited squeal.
"i have to tell kayce and tate!" she says, quickly disappearing.
you look up at him through red, swollen eyes, a teasing smile on your lips.
"i'm staying am i?" you ask wrapping your arms around his back. "'cause last i checked, you're the only one who hasn't asked me to stay."
"hasn't?" he echoes, an embarrassed look on his face as he looks down at you.
"oh yeah, your family was on me the minute i pulled in. you just happened to catch me in the aftermath of lloyd asking me."
"even rip?"
you nod, "especially rip. i think he had me convinced, but i wanted to hear it from you before i made my final decision."
he looks into your eyes, a serious look you've never seen before sliding over his features, "stay, please."
"okay," you whisper, not breaking eye contact, as his lips twitch up.
"marry me?" he says next, "please."
despite how badly he's caught you off guard, you find yourself immediately nodding, a wide smile crossing your face as he grabs you and spins you. you giggle, and he laughs, the pair of you hugging each other tightly.
"i love you," you tell him, "i love you so damn much, and i'm sorry for not you telling you sooner."
"it's ok, because we know now. that's good enough for me."
you resisited his charm for a long time; acting like he didn't exist, or brusting off his flirting. then after getting cornered at a bar by some creep, ryan stepped in like a knight in shining armour. you couldn't keep your disinterested act up much longer before he was sweeping you off your feet. your relationship is a fairytale. it was the kind of love you thought only existed in movies.
