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redgillan · 5 years

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Missed Chances - Part 8

Steve Rogers x Reader ♀️ [// Bucky Barnes x Reader for now]

Summary: 13 Going on 30!AU - Steve Rogers is crazy about you, but he’s afraid his feelings are only one sided and being one of your best friends, he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship… On his 13th birthday, he makes a wish and wakes up in the body of his 30 year old self. The problem is, you’re no longer a part of his life.

Word Count: 3,225

Warnings: Angst, Reader has a small panic attack

A/N: sO I wasn’t sure I wanted to end this chapter like that but no one replied to my post so I guess we’re doing this. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter it’s a fluffy one for our boy Steve. Also here’s the song if you’ve never heard of it ;)

7:36 p.m.

Trying to calm yourself down, you took a deep breath. You could feel your anger bubbling up inside you. You had been waiting on your kitchen stool for over thirty minutes, and your patience was running thin.

You picked up your phone and sent a quick message to your father-in-law, telling him you were going to be late. He replied with a thumbs up emoji.

It didn’t surprise you that Bucky was late to his own engagement dinner, but you still wished he had made an effort.

You locked your phone when you heard him coming up the stairs. You watched as he dropped his bag near the coat rack and threw his keys on the kitchen table. They landed close to your phone.

“Sorry, I know I’m late,” Bucky said.

He grabbed the hem of his Henley and yanked it over his head, throwing it on the floor. You stayed quiet and kept your eyes trained on your phone. It annoyed you that this was all he had to say. A simple pathetic apology.

“You remember Sitwell, one of the head chefs? They fired him today, and now they’re looking for a new head chef. Doll, I think I have a real chance here. I mean, your magazine is basically promoting my restaurant for free. My bosses love that!” He toed off his shoes and quickly unbuttoned his jeans. “I’m gonna take a shower. You can order an Uber, I won’t be long.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. You opened the app and ordered the car, fighting back tears. You were tired of coming second.

You arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes late. Bucky’s parents and sister were already seated, a pitcher of margaritas and some appetizers sat on the table. You apologized for being late and took a seat next to Bucky’s mother.

“I thought your parents were joining us,” Winnie said, sipping her drink.

“They’re on holidays,” you replied, shrugging off your jacket.

“Good for them!” she cheered as her husband filled up your empty glass.

You traded your full glass for Bucky’s empty one. “No alcohol for me,” you said, pouring water into your glass. Bucky’s younger sister looked at you with a funny expression. You mentally rolled your eyes. “I’m not pregnant, I just don’t want to drink.”

You were in a sour mood, which unfortunately happened quite frequently these days. Between work, planning the wedding –without Bucky because he always had too much work- and trying not to strangle Natasha who was your unofficial wedding planner, you really needed a goddamn break.

Bucky must have sensed something was wrong because he was suddenly a lot more attentive. He tried to reach across the table to touch you, but you quickly moved your hand away.

You weren’t looking at him, though you could feel his sad puppy dog eyes on you. You purposely focused on what his father was saying. Bucky’s eyes were your weakness, but you weren’t ready to forgive him. He had to realise he had hurt you.

Bucky cleared his throat. “So, um I’m sorry we’re late. It’s my fault.”

“Something happen at work?” Georges asked with furrowed brows.

“No, nothing important,” Bucky quickly replied, trying to meet your eyes. You relented and glanced at him. “Nothing important,” he repeated, his voice soft.

He extended his hand across the table and you barely hesitated before giving him your own. He smiled at you, mouthing the words ‘I love you’.

“How’s the wedding coming along?” Winnie asked with a bright smile. “You know, I read all the articles in your magazine. I really like them, it’s basically a how to plan your own wedding series. I wish it had been a thing when we got engaged.”

“It would have saved us a lot of headaches,” George agreed.

You and Bucky stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. They didn’t seem to notice the growing tension, and you didn’t want to be the one complaining that planning a wedding was hard work no matter who was there to help you.

Millions of people were waiting for your wedding. It was completely nerve-wracking.

Rebecca leaned across the table and grabbed a mozzarella stick. “I love awkward silences,” she said with a cocky smile.

You all laughed, diffusing the tension. “It’s coming along fine,” you answered Winnie’s question. “We’re not allowed to say much, we signed a confidentiality agreement.”

“But we’re the groom’s parents,” Winnie complained, “and the ceremony is happening in our backyard.” George threw her a glance, silently telling her to drop the subject. “Okay fine,” she mouthed, “but that’s not fair.”

Despite the lingering tension, dinner went rather smoothly. No one asked you any prying questions. You told Winnie and Rebecca that you had an appointment to try on the muslin dress Steve had made for you. Rebecca also had to try on her bridesmaid dress. They were both excited to share this moment with you.

You and Bucky were quiet on the drive home. When you finally got home, you undressed quietly and prepared for bed. You felt Bucky’s arms wrap around you from behind. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and breathed in deeply. You let yourself melt against his chest.

“Am I in trouble?” he mumbled against your neck, his lips finding the tender spot behind your ear.

You sighed. “It depends. I’m busting my ass planning this wedding, but it seems like you’re already married to your job.” You turned in his arms to face him. “Who is it going to be? Me or your job?”

“I want what’s best for you,” he said, holding you tight. “I need money to give yo-”

“Answer the question,” you pressed. “Me or your job?”

He looked at you with a pained expression. You wondered what was going on through his mind. Bucky was hard to read sometimes.

“It’s you,” he finally said, “always you.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, the tension slowly draining from your body. Arching against him, you kissed him hard on the lips. “Then prove it,” you whispered against his mouth, “come with me to the party next week. Take a day off.”

Bucky craned his neck toward the ceiling and sighed. He stayed quiet, pondering your words.

If he wanted to be the new head chef, he had to keep working hard. But ironically, the only reason he had been working so hard was so he could give you a better life. It didn’t make sense to keep working himself to death if you weren’t with him anymore.

Unfortunately, Saturdays were the most hectic days at the restaurant.

“I’m not allowed to take my Saturday off,” he told you, smiling sadly when your face fell. “But I’ll ask someone to trade shifts with me. I’ll be there before eleven.” He looked you in the eye, making sure you knew this was not an empty promise. “We’ll dance and laugh and drink. All night long.”

Your face broke into a shy smile. This wasn’t perfect, but it was a fair compromise. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“It’s going to be the best party ever,” you said.

“This party sucks.”

Scott turned and leaned his back against the bar, surveying the deserted dance floor. He hummed in agreement as you blew out a frustrated breath.

People had started gathering at around eight but the music was garbage, and even the open bar wasn’t enough to make the guests stay. It was a Saturday night in New York, they still had time to find another party.

“It's 11 o’clock and I'm at a party.” Steve appeared out of nowhere. “It's so cool.”

“It’s 11 o’clock and people are leaving,” Scott said, cocking a brow. Steve’s enthusiasm was a little odd. He was celebrity after all, this shouldn’t faze him. “It’s a disaster.”

You spotted Nick and Natasha walking across the dance floor with scowls on their faces.

“Here comes trouble,” you mumbled to your friends as your bosses approached your corner.

“Where’s Barnes?” Natasha asked.

“He shouldn’t be long,” you replied after checking your phone. “He had to work tonight.”

Nick looked around the room and slowly shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. Most of the guests are gone.” He waved the bartender over and ordered a shot. “Is it me? Do I smell? Do I have bad breath?”

You, Scott and Natasha didn’t say anything. You all knew he wasn’t expecting an answer, he just needed to vent. The party must have been incredibly expensive and it was a complete disaster.

To your horror, Steve started leaning toward Nick, sniffing the air around him. Natasha looked at him as if he were crazy.

“No, you smell nice,” Steve said.

“Really,” Nick continued, his jaw ticking, “because people seem to be running for the exit like someone set off a stink bomb.”

“I don’t smell anything.” Steve looked at him with a confused puppy look on his face.

Scott bit back a laugh. “I think he means the party is a stinker. A dud. A flop. A zero on a scale of one to ten.”

“Thanks, Scott,” Natasha said, crossing her arms.

“Maybe if somebody played something else,” Steve said, nodding toward the DJ. “Something with a melody.”

Nick cut him off. “Play whatever you want. All I know is if those people don't start dancing really, really soon...” He promptly raised his shot glass. “Here's to early retirement.”

Nick grimaced as the amber liquid rolled down his throat. Steve cocked his head to one side as he observed the man digging in the record bin behind the turntables. An idea formed in his mind and, with a lopsided grin, he started making his way toward the dance floor.

“Steve,” you called after him. You remembered that smile too well. He was about to do something stupid.

The four of you watched as Steve neared the DJ. They spoke for a brief moment, though you were too far away to hear what they were saying. Then Steve turned around and, as he reached the middle of the dance floor, an upbeat music filled the room.

You frowned. The song was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

Steve addressed the small crowd with a shy wave, but all he got in return were blank stares. He took a deep, calming breath and started moving to the beat.

This is something new, the Casper slide part two Featuring the platinum band, and this time... We’re gonna get funky

Oh, no

Your eyes widened in horror as you recognized the song. The Cha Cha Slide. You hadn’t heard that song in years. It reminded you of your childhood, of the times in middle school when you had been going to slumber parties.

The dance in itself was really simple, you just had to follow the lyrics.

People were snickering as they watched Steve dance. He felt incredibly stupid, alone on the dance floor. He met your eyes and silently pleaded with you to join him.

You shook your head. “No, absolutely not!” you said in a loud whisper.

“Please,” Steve mouthed back.

Turn it out, to the left Take it back now y'all One hop this time

Steve took the lyrics as his cue to hop toward you like a bunny. You tried to hide behind Scott, but that idiot pushed you forward. Steve grabbed your hands and tried to pull you towards him.

“C’mon, please,” he begged.

“I haven't done this in over ten years.”

“It’s the Cha Cha Slide, he literally tells you what to do,” Steve shouted over the music.

He led you to the dance floor, and you found yourself paralysed. Everyone was staring at you. You tried to follow Steve’s lead, but you just felt too ridiculous. He encouraged you to keep dancing and you did your best not to bolt out of the room.

Slide to the left, slide to the right Crisscross, crisscross

In a synchronized movement, you both jumped and crossed your right foot over your left, then did it again. You looked at each other and laughed.

“All right, here we go!” you shouted, smiling brightly.

Despite your embarrassment, you were starting to really enjoy this. More people joined in. You saw Scott take Natasha’s hand and lead her to the dance floor. Natasha playfully rolled her eyes as she begrudgingly agreed to follow him.

The song ended too fast for your liking. You were feeling lighter than you had in a long time. Another song came on, a popular song from the 80s’, and everyone cheered.

“You’re a genius,” you shouted over the music, taking Steve’s hand and letting him twirl you into his arms. “That was so much fun! You have some great moves, Rogers! I didn’t know you could still do the limbo. That was impressive!”

Steve blushed and took a step away from you, running his hand through his hair with a sheepish grin. He looked at something over your shoulder, and grinned. The cheers of the crowd caught your attention.

You turned around and saw Nick doing the moonwalk. You were never going to be able to look him in the eye again.

It was after midnight when you finally stopped dancing and took a break. You ordered a drink and checked the time on your phone.

00:20 a.m.

No new messages.

You frowned, and looked around for Bucky. He should have been here by now. The room was absolutely crowded, and you thought that perhaps he was still looking for you.

You took your drink and moved to a quiet spot near the restroom where you called Bucky. He didn’t pick up. You left him a message, saying that you were at the bar waiting for him. You also sent him a text with the same information.

You waited another thirty minutes, frequently checking your phone, but Bucky hadn’t tried to contact you.

It was now 1 a.m. and you were getting a little worried. You tried not to panic, after all Bucky was always late so it was probably nothing.

You went outside and called the restaurant, thinking that maybe he was still working. The call went straight to voicemail, and you knew it was because the restaurant was closed and the team had left the building.

You remembered that Shuri was working with Bucky tonight, she had even agreed to trade shifts with him. You called her, but all she could tell you was that he had left just before eleven o’clock.

“There you are!” Steve’s voice made you jump. His smile dropped as he met your frightened eyes. “Something wrong?”

“I can’t find Bucky,” you said. “He’s not answering his phone. I don’t know what to do.”

Steve’s expression changed. He looked around, as if doing so would make Bucky appear out of nowhere. The lump in his throat dropped into his stomach like a lead ball.

Steve’s silence made you even more nervous.

“I don’t know where he is,” you cried. “What if something happened to him on the way here?”

Your legs buckled and Steve was at your side in an instant, holding you upright. You were panting, your eyes unfocused. He had had enough panic attacks to recognize the symptoms.

He held your gaze, and drew in a deep breath through his nose before releasing it slowly through his mouth. Calming breaths, you recognised the technique. You breathed in tandem until your heartbeat returned to normal.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, mustering up a half smile. “I’m going to drop you off at home. You’ll stay there in case Bucky comes home, and meanwhile I’ll look for him. Okay?”

You nodded, letting yourself smile a little.

You tried calling Bucky one last time while you climbed the stairs to your apartment. He didn’t answer and you left yet another voicemail. You begged him to call you back as soon he got your messages.

You fumbled with the lock, your nerves made your hands shake, and finally got it open. You leaned one hand against the wall for support as you bent down to remove your high heels.

“Did you have fun?”

Bucky’s deep voice startled you. You hurriedly searched for the nearby switch to turn on the lights. He was sitting at the kitchen counter with a half empty bottle of whiskey in front of him.

“You’re home,” you said, releasing a relieved breath. “I tried to call you like ten times.” You noticed that his phone was next to the bottle. “Why didn’t you answer? I was worried.”

Scoffing under his breath, Bucky reached for the bottle of whiskey. “You were worried? When? When Steve was twirling you around or when you were giggling against his chest?”

You frowned at him. Bucky had seen you dance with Steve, he’d seen the two of you laugh and have fun. It could only mean one thing.

“You came to the party,” you concluded out loud.

“Yeah, nice solve, Sherlock.”

“You’re drunk,” you chastised.

“And you’re cheating on me,” Bucky shouted, slamming the bottle on the counter.

You held his accusatory stare for as long as you could stand it, then bent your head and swallowed the lump in your throat. That was a low blow and completely unjustified. Sometimes his insecurities got the best of him. Especially when he was drunk.

It was pointless to argue with him right now. You swallowed your frustration and anger as best you could before you raised your head.

“You’re drunk, I’m not having this conversation tonight,” you said as you crossed the room. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

At least he didn’t protest.

You grabbed the handle of the Murphy bed that leaned against the wall, and pulled it down. You took your phone and typed a quick text to Steve.

I found Bucky. He’s at home, drunk, but safe. Thank you for what you did tonight. You’re a good man.

His answer came a few seconds later. I’m relieved. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Goodnight!

You were getting ready for bed, but your brain was rehearsing the upcoming argument you would soon have with Bucky.

You got even more upset because you couldn’t calm down. Bucky was still sitting at the counter, staring off into space. You didn’t want to be in the same room with him.

Your apartment was a tiny studio, you couldn’t isolate yourself. And even though you hated his guts, you didn’t want to throw Bucky out of the house. He wasn’t sober enough to take a cab or even walk. Besides, Sam would be upset if Bucky showed up drunk at his door in the middle of the night.

You stared at your trainers closely, calculating your next move. You felt as though you were suffocating, stuck between two men and a wedding, and unable to move forward because you wanted to please everyone.

You had to get out of the apartment.

You quickly slipped your feet into her trainers and headed for the front door. Bucky’s tired eyes were focused on you as you took your jacket and keys.

“Where you goin?” he slurred.

“Out,” you said before you closed the door behind you.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #steve x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers rogers imagines #bucky barnes imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites #missed chances

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drowsyroger · 6 years

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Cool Cat.

pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader warning: unedited mediocre writing words: 2,024 about: was inspired by this gif, decided to make a blurb about it but got carried away. @secretsweetscollectionblog made me do it.

You were excited.

It’s been months since George last asked you out on a date due to his busy schedule consisting of endless meetings and several business trips to America and other parts of the world, and you were in no place to complain because as what he always reasons out: “It’s for our future, love”.

George was not a bad man himself, in fact, he’s far from bad but far from being good. He’s got few flaws here and there and you couldn’t help but just understand the man you were about to spend the rest of your life with.

You wore your favorite black swing dress paired with a matching sling-back kitten heels, your mother looked at you in awe as she slowly took in your silhouette. You put down your rouge after it painted your lips red then looked back at her, your lips breaking into a smile. “You look so beautiful,” she smiled back as she stopped leaning on your door frame “Here! I have something for you!” your mother’s voice chimed in an exciting tone, approaching you with a little leather jewelry box in hand. You knew what’s inside it and you gasped, “Mum! You don’t really need to!” you exclaimed and she just shrugged it off, handing you the box and opening it to expose her very own diamante earrings. She helped you put it on and whispered, “He might, you know, pop the question” and you giggled, shaking your head “I doubt” was all you could say.

She was right, George might pop the question. He’s booked the both of you in a fancy restaurant located at St. James’s and you’re glad he did, you missed him and you’re kind of expecting him to actually ask you the big question.

So there you were in front of Wiltons, the hostess offered you to stay inside the restaurant but you insisted not to, arguing that you usually wait for your date outside. It was one of George’s not-so-favorite moves of yours, he would always rant about you getting so early to the place and wait for him outside that he always feels so bad for himself, but he got accustomed with it after a year of seeing each other (although he said he hates it still).

It was getting cold and all the warmth you could get is through hugging yourself and whispering profanities under your breath. 30 minutes in and there was still no signs of George showing up. You were about to give up when you saw a familiar Mercedes-Benz roadster and that made your face gleam in hopes that it’s him but instead, it showed a different man.

He looked at you with a smile plastered on his beautiful face (you swore he’s like a prince charming) as he passed by you then broke the eye contact when you decided to look the other way because it was getting awkward.

It was brief yet it made your stomach do a somersault.

The man, in many aspects, seemed to be better than George. A laid-back lad with a better sense of fashion. The guy was wearing jeans with his dress shirt and lounge jacket and no one ever looked so good in that kind of outfit. Hell, he even looks amazing with the messy hair he’s rocking.

You admit that you’re starting to have a little crush on him. Just a little won’t hurt, right?

You gave up on waiting for George outside the restaurant and decided to let the hostess usher you to the designated table he reserved. Fortunately, as soon as you get to your table, you caught a glimpse of the attractive man returning a fur coat he brought with him to an equally attractive woman. It was very clear that they were in a heated up argument, the woman aggressively grabbing the coat was a dead give-away. She stormed off with it and it caused quite a commotion as she accidentally hit a wine glass along the way.

You pursed your lips as you felt the secondhand embarrassment all while you watch him scratch his head and leave a few bills to pay for the wine glass. Your grip on the menu tightened when he started to look around then met eyes with you, grinning as soon he realized you were the woman standing outside the restaurant. You quickly averted your eyes to the menu, hoping that he won’t go to your table as you hear his chair making a noise.

Spoke too soon, you guessed.

“I apologize if it caught your attention,” you slightly peeked from the menu, seeing that it was him. “Mind if I have seat?” he asked and you nodded your head in reply, he only chuckled in return and sat on the chair opposite of you anyway. “It’s my friend’s ex if you’re wondering,” you don’t know why that made you feel a little bit eased. “I’m Roger, Roger Meddows Taylor if you needed the whole name to stop you from peeking through the menu” he playfully smiled at you and you put down the menu on the table.

Right then and there you had a full frontal of his face, you just realized what a beauty he truly was. His doll-like drowsy eyes complimented every feature of his face.

You cleared your throat and told him your name, stopping yourself from observing him way too much.

“And who are you waiting for, love?” he asked, “My boyfriend… he’s supposed to be here like an hour ago…” you replied as the waiter poured the both of you white wine on your respective glasses. “He’s an asshole then, making a beautiful woman wait for him” the first reaction you would have given was something of protecting George but Roger was right, he kept you waiting even if he knows that you do go to your date earlier than expected.

“It’s pretty boring here, isn’t it?” “Yeah…” “Let’s get your swing dress to have its purpose, yeah?” “What?”

The next thing you knew you’re both in front of the restaurant waiting for his car.

“Roger, I’m supposed to be waiting for George!” you argued, Roger scoffed as he entered his car once the valet stepped outside of his car. He looked at you as soon as he sat on the driver’s seat, “The only George you’re allowed to wait for is George Harrison only!” it made you smile a little but you cleared your throat “Fine! I’m going with you because I don’t have a choice!” then you got inside his car.

Roger was absolutely fun at parties you could tell. He’s more of an opposite of you, you’d prefer to be inside your room to rest, read or sleep for as much as you can while he’d totally go out and enjoy the rest of the night drunk with his friends.

He didn’t tell you where you’re going and just continued driving around (and it felt like you’re both driving in circles but it doesn’t really matter), you thought it was helping you cope with the thought of George ditching you back in the restaurant.

“I’m guessing you don’t like dancing?” he tried to break the silence and you hummed in denial “I actually do like dancing, do you?” you replied and he smiled “Sometimes!” he said with a smile. You have never met someone as good-looking as Roger, he gets handsome in every minute you look at him and that’s ridiculously getting out of hand.

He brought you to Ronnie Scott’s insisting that it’s better than being oh so formal back at Wiltons’. “So what do you prefer?” he asked you, referring to a drink you’d like to have “I’ll have a pink squirrel” your reply made Roger give you a wry reaction.

The middle of the club was unusually empty, accommodating the people who want to dance the night away (as the sign outside says it’s Dance Night). Looking around, people from different age groups enjoyed the performing jazz band’s music as it echoed through the four walls of the club. It made you realize how you never really had fun as you mostly spent your time in your room or boring dates with George. It all made sense right then.

“Glad that you’re liking it here,” Roger went back with your drinks “Here’s your uh… boring drink” he mocked. You rolled your eyes and scooted the glass closer to you, “It’s a preference,” you raised your eyebrow at him, “My preference” you made sure you made yourself clear. Roger grinned at you then leaned closer, “Getting comfortable now, love?” he asked and you replied with a nod as you sip on your drink.

Roger was entertaining, he didn’t focus on his interests and best believed that it’s your interests that will ignite a really good conversation going between the both of you. And you did like it. You talked about art and how you landed a job in the British Museum as part of the education department staff.

In the middle of talking about Andy Warhol, some people from the middle started to go back to their seats as soon as the band’s rendition of Peaches and Herb’s Reunited started to play. Couples swaying to the slow beat of the soulful music absent-mindedly just looked at their partners as if they were the only ones inside the club.

You felt Roger hold your hand as he stood up, you looked at him in confusion “What are you doing?” you whispered and he tugged on your hand “Let’s dance!” he replied and dragged you to the middle. You gave him a dumbfounded look as he put his hands on your hips and made you cling onto his neck.

“I just want to let them know how beautiful you are tonight,” he whispered in your ear and you felt your cheeks flushing red “And I bet that you always do” he added then smiled at you. You were glad that the lights were dimmed and that he cannot clearly see how much you’re blushing. “Stop it” was all you could say and he grinned at himself, swaying the both of you to the music.

You never thought you would enjoy the company of a stranger but you have finally decided that Roger is not that kind of stranger. He is definitely something. You wished that you should have met him earlier, earlier than meeting George.

But all things have their endings.

“Thank you,” you patted his arm as he stopped his car in front of your apartment. “I definitely had fun, how about you?” he asked and you smiled at him, nodding your head “Of course I did”. Roger felt sad as he realized that this might be the last time he’ll see you and you did as well. “So…” he trailed off, looking at you in the eyes, hoping that you would say something. “I think it’s time for me to go back now” he slightly felt down at what you said but he agreed “Yeah, it is” then he tucked in a few strands of your hair behind your ear. You were about to take off his lounge jacket when he stopped you from doing so, “Don’t, I’d be glad if you’re going to keep it as a souvenir” he insisted “But—” “Please?” he pleaded “Okay” you nodded your head and opened the car door. “Oh, I forgot something” you leaned close to him and kissed his cheek. “Again, thank you” you smiled and went out of the car.

You immediately went inside your apartment and closed the door behind your back, leaning against it. Your heart was beating fast like a teenager’s when they got their first kiss. Taking off his jacket, something fell from its inner pocket and you picked it up.

Roger Meddows Taylor Next to it was his home number.

You quickly opened the door and saw him still parked in front of your apartment, about to go when you waved the piece of paper at him.

It, fortunately, got his attention.

“You sly one,” you whispered to yourself as he grinned at you, waving back then driving away.

friends that might want to read this: @secretsweetscollectionblog , @ironqueen98 , @drowsyrog , @rogerisinlovewithhiscar , @tanya-is-dead , @duvetsandpillows, @flick-of-the-wrist

#drowsy writes #roger taylor #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor x reader #queen #queen band #queen fic #roger fic

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ardentmuse · 6 years

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Perchance a Parchment (George Weasley x Reader) - Part 3

Harry Potter - George Weasley x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: As letters with the mysterious Rhubarb continue, a Weasley decides to enter your shop and see for himself what your business is all about.

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

There is nothing as calming as the perfect warm bath. Just hot water and foaming suds that smell like lavender or sage or vanilla. That feeling of the skin of your toes slowly wrinkling and the release of all the tension of your body...

When I was in school and playing quidditch, I would often find my body completely bruised and my muscles strained. I was always advised by our nurse to take ice cold baths to help restore by body. I hated them so much. I would sit there soaking, feeling shock in my limbs, and imagine instead a hot spring and the warm sun on my back.

Now, I take a bath twice a week and imagine still the same thing. My brother thinks a bath is useless unless you’re sharing it with a beautiful woman. I wouldn’t know, but I can’t imagine it would hurt one bit.

Rhubarb

You laughed as you sat at your desk, a stake of ten or twelve parchments beside your bed. In the past week, you’ve been exchanging letters with Rhubarb regularly, sometimes multiple times a day. At first, it was serious talk about life direction and feeling passion, but now every time you had a stray thought, an interesting idea, or an odd curiosity, you posted a note to Rhubarb and waited patiently for his reply.

You wrote him about your favorite book. He wrote you about a silly thing his niece did at dinner. You mused to him about how funny the differences between wizards and muggles are in regards to how they handle the rain. He explained to you the stress of importing rare potions ingredients.

You felt like you had found a kindred spirit, a beautiful soul in this world with an entire life and thoughts and hopes to unpack and learn. With Tom, there was no newness anymore, not that novelty was a required part of a healthy relationship. The hope for any true love is to learn the other so deeply that their mind becomes as clear as your own. But you did expect surprise: a bouquet of flowers, a new restaurant to try, a rogue thought given voice that might have you laughing. A relationship should bring you comfort, yes, but when the excitement of the relationship becomes slow, the excitement of life should take over.

With Tom, you had comfort in bounds, but at some point along the way, you decided comfort alone was enough.

You heard the ding of Patty entering the shop just as you began to pen a quick note about the comforts of a cup of tea in the morning. She popped her head in and gave you a giant smile.

“Letters from Romeo?” she asked. You shook your head at the teasing but let a smile consume your face regardless.

It was just harmless flirting, you kept telling yourself but you couldn’t pretend you didn’t like the attention.

George stood outside the bookstore just down the road from his shop, staring in that same window he had the week previous, watching the strikingly pretty woman animated tell tales to a small hoard of children and parents.

The real estate agent had said the business was tanking, that kids were spending their money elsewhere, like at his establishment, instead of buying books. He said the landlord had assured him that the current tenant would be out in a month’s time. But George had to see for himself. He had to know what was ending in order for him to succeed. He had to put a face to the situation.

And to say he wasn’t just a little bit curious as to what those eyes or that smile might look like when directed at him would be a lie.

He watched and waited under the awning of Madam Malkin’s until the story time ended and the children left, a few with books or puppets in hand. He watched the woman stand, brush out her skirts, shake the hands of the few parents who offered, and have an exaggerated conversation with one, who he assessed must be a regular. With a kiss on the cheek, the last of the customers left, and George, with a shaky, steadying breath, entered the tiny bookstore.

You were cleaning up the small rugs and dolls in your reading nook when a ding at the door pulled your eyes upward.

“Welcome,” you shouted over your shoulder as you continued your cleaning.

At first, all you saw was a mop of red hair, the stacks of new releases blocking your vision. The hair was pretty and striking, wet from the rain wihich pulled the brown undertones outward. But then he took two steps inward and you saw the face. Weasley.

You did your best to hide your scowl.

He didn’t approach you at first, instead he browsed the shelves. His long hands scanning the spines as he made his way towards the back of the shop. You felt his eyes flick to you every so often. You caught his gaze once and you thought you noticed a small smile on his lips. Of course Weasley would think your humble store is some joke.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked, resting yourself against the counter and watching his movements carefully.

He turned to you in shock, like he had forgotten about your presence. He was holding a book in his hands, a new edition of your favorite book from your childhood, a retelling of the adventures of Merlin and the Knights of the Roundtable, the exact book you had just written to Rhubarb about.

“I… um…” the man began, staring into your eyes for a moment too long before taking quick strides towards your counter. He set down the book between you and outstretched his arm. “Nice to meet you, I’m--”

You cut him off, “Weasley, I know who you are. Is there anything I can help you with?” You didn’t offer your hand in return.

He looked like a kicked puppy, his brow knitted as he pulled his hand back. You had the good sense to feel sorry for your outburst.

“It’s George, actually,” he mumbled.

“George,” you said, taking a breath, trying to undo your anger. It wasn’t like he had ever done anything to you but run a big business that was upping the rents around here. “I’m sorry for my less than warm welcome. Your reputation precedes you a tad.”

“My reputation?”

“You do own that obnoxiously large shop down the road, the one that is filling these children with sugar and creating chaos?”

George blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck. You couldn’t help but think that it was quite a pleasant sight, this adorable man with broad shoulders and nice hands getting nervous at your words. If he weren’t part of your problem, you might actually find him attractive.

“I guess that’s us,” he said. “But we aren’t trying to be a problem, honest. We’re just trying to bring joy to children, just like you.”

You hated to admit that he was right. But then you recalled the nights you walked by, spells bursting from their shop into the street and causing a stir for all the nearby businesses, their quick expansion, and all the times a child launched a prank into your filing cabinets.

“I think I can see your point,” you said, “I just wish you all didn’t have to arm the children.”

George spit out a laugh, “We arm them with wands at eleven. I doubt a couple chocolates at fourteen is what’s going to lead them to lives of crime.”

You laughed too, meeting his eyes as he reclined ever further into the counter. Maybe he was attractive…

“So what can I do for you, George Weasley?” you asked as you watched the corner of his lip lift, revealing a dimple deep in his freckled cheek.

“I just wanted to take a look around. We’re neighbors after all.” George turned his back to you and began browsing the featured tables again which currently displayed collections of young adult romances from a local author who did a signing here a few days ago.

“We are, but we may not much longer,” you admitted.

George froze, his back taut with tension as he held onto the display table.

“Moving shop?” he asked, though his tone made it clear he knew what you were saying.

“Closing, I think. It seems there may be certain businesses willing to pay a higher price for the space.” You lingered on the word businesses just to see if he reacted, but he didn’t. He simple straightened his back.

“Well,” George said, meeting your eyes again and giving you a winning smile, “I think you have a lovely business here. You are amazing with those kids and the parents seem very grateful for you.”

His compliment had you smiling.

“You may think I’m the enemy but I believe in community… I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

He was back against the counter again, hovering over you just a little and you felt your breath hitch at the closeness.

“Y/N” you managed.

“Y/N,” he whispered, “Lovely.”

A chill ran down your spine. Your name was butter on his tongue and you loved the sound of it. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, those brown piercing orbs, soft like roasted chestnuts, surrounded by just the lightest wrinkles from years of laughter and joy, freckles covering every inch of his brow bone.

George coughed and you watched the red spread across his neck.

“Just the book,” he said, patting the hardback that sat on the counter between you.

You looked away in embarrassment as you tried to compose yourself.

“A good choice,” you said, reaching for the book to check the price. Your hand landed on top of George’s and as you pulled the book forward he didn’t pull away. The brush of your fingertips against the back of his hand rose goosebumps on your arm. This man was kinetic, as much as you hated it.

He handed you the sickles your requested and left the store with the book wrapped in parchment paper.

“Thanks for the hospitality, neighbor,” he said at the door before swiftly slipping into the rain.

Before you could even process what had just occurred, Patty popped her head out of the back room.

“And who was that handsome snack?” Her voice had you jumping out of your skin.

“Just a Weasley,” you said, trying to sound dismissive.

“A Weasley you clearly have the hots for!” she said with a smirk as she perched on your counter.

You swatted her off with a cloth, hoping to distract yourself with some dusting. You hated just how right she always was.

George didn’t have words for what just happened as he walked about to his shop. That woman was… enchanting, his mind decided. Feisty and honest but warm and sweet too. And when she touched his hand… that kind of chemistry can’t be created. It just happens. And since Angie, George hadn’t felt that feeling. Years of meeting new people and not one had him so intoxicated as that shopkeeper.

George didn’t even have time to explain when he walked back into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He simply set his book on the counter and found Fred restocking the shelves.

“We can’t rent that storefront,” he said with confidence, “I simply refuse. We can buy a warehouse in the country, connect it to the Floo network. It’d be inconvenient but--”

“Um,” Fred said, “It may be too late for that…”

And George’s heart sank, not because that beautiful, compelling shopkeeper that he desperately wanted to ask on a date would be out of business, though he didn’t like that one bit either, but because she was now going to believe him to be a con-artist and a trickster, walking into her shop and talking of community while stealing her business from under her.

The only woman who had captured his attention in half a decade was about to hate his guts.

You were pouring yourself the final glass from your bottle of wine when Tom cut you off.

“Darling, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Not true,” you started to say but lost your balance as you were returning to the couch. Tom caught your arm and helped you recline into the pillows on your end.

“I guess you’re right,” you said with a hiccup.

Tom took a seat in the chair on the other end of the living room.

You reached forward and picked up the letter once again. You had read it maybe fifty times since it arrived. You were hoping though with the alcohol, you might look again and see the words change to something much more pleasant.

You read the words out loud to Tom, “Dear Y/N, A new tenant is ready to take over the lease starting on the first. Please begin move-out proceedings soon unless you can provide me the down payment as discussed.” You threw the letter back on the table. “Nope, still says the same thing.”

Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, “I don’t see why you are so upset. You are a capable witch with lots of experience and global knowledge. You could work anywhere. I’m sure the Ministry would love someone like you. Hell, we at Gringotts could use your cultural know-how.”

Maybe it was the drink, but you wanted to punch him.

“This isn’t just a job to me, Tom. This is a dream.”

“And some dreams must come to an end,” he said softly and sweetly, like he was talking to a child, not his girlfriend.

You watched him from your spot on the couch. He picked up the newspaper from your end table and read, completely oblivious to your fuming. In the time since he came over, he had yet to provide you any real comfort and you couldn’t help but think how Rhubarb might behave in this same scenario. He seemed the kind of man who liked hugs. He’d probably be beside you on this couch instead of across the room. He’d pat your head and kiss your cheek and offer to draw you a bath, but only if you promised to drink a glass of water before your next glass of wine. Maybe he’d even join you in that bath, covering your nose in bubbles and making himself a mohawk. He’d dive under the water to kiss your belly and knees and have you in giggles before the water went cold. Maybe by the time you went to sleep, you’d actually feel a little better.

You waited a few minutes just to see if Tom would even look over at you as you cried on the couch.

Finally, as he went to turn the pages to finish his article, his eyes met yours and he seemed to notice your tears for the first time.

He sighed, “This whole rent thing really has you upset, doesn’t it.”

Immediately, you stood. “I’m sorry the loss of my entire life’s work is inconvenient for you!” You turned towards your room and stomped away, only stopping to take the rest of the wine bottle that he had denied you with you.

When you reached the door to your room, you took a giant swig, holding the bottle by the stem.

“Just leave, Tom,” you said over your shoulder. You heard him stand and begin to walk towards you but you didn’t bother to wait. You slammed the door in his face.

“Babe,” he said at the door once you had already tossed yourself on your bed. “Babe?” he said once more, but when you didn’t answer, you heard him sigh once more. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll let myself out and I’ll see you for dinner this weekend, yes?” Again, you didn’t respond. “I love you,” he said and the silence that followed was deafening.

Once you heard your front door close, you downed the rest of your bottle and made for your desk. Diomedes was nice and patient upon his perch for you. You couldn’t bring a pen to paper fast enough.

Hey Rhubarb,

Want to meet?

Cherry

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot

Perchance a Parchment tags: @cucumberinmyass, @justducky0423, @thequeen-ofnerds, @yuaasa, @comic-creature, @hermionebennet, @semicharmedkindofali, @sugerquill, @can-i-fangirl-yet, @doct0rstrange, @igotmadskills, @otherthingsinhead, @olixerwxxd, @caramiriel, @gryffinclxw, @lizmar20, @indicisive-af, @confettidreameryouwhoreo-blog, @hellizhelusive2, @kaitsubaki, @dooriha, @justfollowtheroad, @memogorgon, @xxsophie-raabxx

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #hp #hp imagine #weasley twins #reader insert #perchance a parchment

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reedusdixonfictionaddiction · 8 years

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The Summer in Georgia

Chapter 19. Tell Me All Your Secrets and I’ll Tell You Most of Mine, Part 1

After two hours in the pool, Isabella finally mastered the doggy paddle and she could almost float on her back. Daryl told her this was important because if she ever got tired and couldn’t swim anymore, she could always flip over and float for a while, until she got her energy back. They had a good time and both were water logged. Daryl brought up the kiss and told her he thought they should slow down a little. She didn’t want to, she wanted to speed things up, but she kept that to herself. She agreed and things were fine.

They dried off and changed, Isabella asked Daryl if he was hungry and he was, so she made them some sandwiches. After they’d eaten, Isabella asked him if he could look at the television in her bedroom, because she couldn’t get it to turn on. Isabella sat on the bed and watched Daryl work. He finally got it to work after cursing at it for 15 minutes. Isabella laughed at him and that frustrated him. When he was done, he took a seat beside her on the bed.

“What’s this?” Daryl asked picking up her raggedy stuffed monkey.

“That’s George. I think I wanted a Curious George doll and that’s what I got instead, so I just named him George. I’ve had him since before my parents died. He’s the only thing I have that’s been with me that long. He’s gotten me through some pretty tough times, so be careful with him.” Isabella said watching Daryl toss it around.

“I ain’t got nothin’ from when I was a kid. I remember I had this little pink pig with a curly tail. Merle kept rippin’ off the tail and my mom had to keep sewin’ it back on. I don’t know whatever happened to it. One day it was just gone.” Daryl said sadly. Isabella gently brushed the hair back from his face. He turned and smiled sweetly at her.

It was getting dark outside and Daryl asked Isabella what she wanted to do. She shrugged her shoulders. Then Daryl had an idea.

“Go get some shoes on. I’m gonna’ take ya’ somewhere. I want ya’ ta’ see somethin’.” He said “Come on rabbit, let’s go.”

Isabella got her shoes on and they were out the door. He stopped at a gas station and bought a six pack of beer and then drove off in the direction of his house, about a mile before, he turned on to a road that went up the side of a small mountain. It wound around for a few miles, steadily going uphill. Finally, Daryl came to a small dirt pull out area on the side of the road, he stopped and backed up into the dirt area. He told her to get out of the truck. They walked to the back of the truck and Daryl pointed. Isabella’s mouth fell open. You could see the entire town and then some. Everything was lit up. You could see the lake, the town park, everything. It was beautiful. Daryl put the tailgate down and lifted Isabella up onto it. He got the six pack out of the front seat and hopped up beside her. He opened them both a beer and they just sat there staring at the lights. The air was cooling down and there was a nice breeze blowing, the moon was full and everything was perfect. Daryl glanced over at Isabella, she looked beautiful in the moonlight, you could see the stars in her eyes and moonbeams made her long hair shine. She looked purely happy.

She told Daryl that she’d never been out like this before, in the country on the side of a mountain. She said, she couldn’t see the stars and the moon in New York. Daryl said that it was one of his favorite places. He said he liked to come up there when he wanted to be alone. Nobody came up the road because of rockslides, so no one ever bothered him. He said he’d even slept in the back of his truck up there a few times. Isabella told him that she’d never slept outside before. He asked her if she’d ever been camping. She rolled her eyes and reminded him where she was from.

“Maybe I’ll take ya’ camping. There’s a clearing, surrounded by a bunch of pines on the back of my land. It’s right by a stream and it’s got a swimmin’ hole, with a little waterfall and everything. I swim butt naked out there.” He said, winking at her.

“Reeeallly!” She said in a sultry voice. “Then count me in.” And they both laughed. “No, really. I would love to go camping. We can really swim there and everything? Would we sleep in a tent? Would we cook over a campfire? Ohhh, ohhh. Can we roast marshmallows?”

Daryl laughed. “Yeah, course. I ain’t never done that before, but I guess we can. Ya’ ever eat rabbit, rabbit?” He asked.

She giggled at his play on words and told him ‘no.’ He told her he’d take his bow and they could hunt rabbits and he’d cook one up on their campfire. He also said, he’d teach her how to fish. She was thrilled.

“I’ll talk ta’ Rick about takin’ a few days off. It ain’t gonna’ be a problem, I ain’t never took a day off or a vacation. I got like 10 weeks’ vacation time saved up.” He told her.

“Yay, I’m going camping.” She cheered, pumping her fists in the air. Daryl laughed. This was going to great, he thought. A few days alone in the forest with her, swimming and fishing and sleeping in a tent together. Yep, this was going to be great.

“How come you ain’t gotta’ boyfriend.” Daryl asked out of the blue. Isabella was caught off guard.

“Because I’ve never found anyone I was interested in that way and guys don’t really pay attention to me all that much. I mean they check out my butt, but most everybody thinks I’m weird because I’m so young and smart. People just ignore me.”

“So, you never had a boyfriend? Ever?” Daryl asked surprised.

“No, never. When you kissed me this afternoon, that was my first kiss.” She said shyly.

Daryl was floored. He figured she’d at least had one boyfriend, let alone being kissed before. He couldn’t understand who in their right minds would not want to be with her and then it dawned on him. She was a virgin.

“You ain’t never been with a guy before?” He asked carefully.

Isabella was embarrassed. She thought maybe he was turned off by this, but it was the truth and there was no getting around that.

“No. Is that bad?” She answered unsure of herself.

“Nah, that’s good. I just can’t believe it. I never known a virgin before. Whatta’ ya’ waitin’ till ya’ get married or somethin’?” He questioned.

“No. I’m just waiting for the right guy.” Isabella answered.

“How do ya’ know if it’s the right guy? I mean how will ya’ know?” Daryl asked.

“I’ll just know. There’ll be a connection from the very beginning. We’ll be drawn to each other, like a gravitational pull. He’ll get me and I’ll get him. I’ll know from the very first minute I look into his eyes.” She explained, then she remembered him sliding into the booth at the restaurant that first day. Their eyes met and she knew.

“Huh!” Daryl said, pondering what she said. He wondered if she was talking about him. They had been drawn to each other from the very start. They had a connection. She got him and he got her and he loved that. “Ya’ believe in all that soulmate bullshit?” He asked.

“Yes. Don’t you?” She asked back.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders and said, “I dunno?”

“How come you don’t have a girlfriend? Charlie said you hadn’t been out with a girl in 5 years.”

“Oh, Charlie said that, did he? What else did ol’ Charlie say?” He asked angrily.

Isabella could tell she’d hit a nerve, but it was out now, so she was going for the gold. “He said you’d been with a lot of girls, more than your fare share. But you’d never been in a relationship.”

“What the fuck? Charlie ain’t got no business talkin’ shit behind my back. Mother fucker. Is that all he told you?”

She lied and said, “Yes. Is it true? Have you been with a lot of girls?”

“I dunno’, I guess I been with a few. But nothin’ serious. I didn’t want no girlfriend.” He answered.

“How many are a few? You just had sex with them and that’s it?” Isabella asked.

“A few, I don’t know. A lot I guess, but I ain’t like that now. I didn’t wanna’ do that shit no more. That’s why I quit messin’ with ‘em.” He said, defensively.

Isabella knew he was upset, so she made sure he knew she understood. She brushed the hair out of his eyes and smiled sweetly at him. He immediately calmed down. He smiled back and then he sat back against the wall of the truck bed and told her to scoot toward him. She did and he turned her around and pulled her up between his legs. She laid back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. Daryl thought about how good it felt. He’d never been a hugger or touchy feely with anyone and he didn’t like for anyone to touch him or even enter his personal space, but this was different. This felt good, it felt right. He squeezed her gently and she snuggled into his chest. He couldn’t help but put his nose down into her hair.

“Ya’ smell good. What’s that perfume yer wearin’?” He asked.

“Thank you. It’s Shalimar. It’s my favorite. It was Lori’s, she hadn’t even opened the box yet.” She answered.

“Shalimar.” He said, “I like it, it suits ya’. Did ya’ put it in yer hair?”

“I sprayed it on my brush and ran it through my hair. I’ve seen that done in the movies and I always wanted to try it. This is the first time I’ve ever had perfume before, I feel fancy.” She giggled. Daryl thought that was cute and laughed quietly into her hair.

“I’ve had a lot of firsts since I’ve been here. My first perfume, my first time in a pool, my first flowers…” Daryl cringed at that one. “my first kiss and my first gift ever.” Isabella told him.

“Yer first gift?” He said confused.

“The phone, that was my very first present.” Isabella answered.

“Ya’ ain’t never got a present before? Whatta’ bout Christmas and yer birthday? Didn’t ya’ get nothin’ for them, not even from yer brother?”

She told him that she’d never gotten a birthday present before, she explained that her brother never gave her anything because he was already giving her $200.00 a month and he felt that was gift enough. She told him that all the foster homes she’d lived in were poor and overcrowded. There were so many kids and the foster parents didn’t get enough money from the state to celebrate Christmas or birthdays and stuff like that. She said she’d never had a Christmas tree or stocking and that each year they’d write Santa a letter in school, but he never visited. Isabella told him that one Christmas, her foster parents took all the kids to a church Christmas party and they gave every child a coloring book and crayons. She’d never had one before, so she was thrilled beyond belief and to top that off, it was a Barbie coloring book. She had always wanted a Barbie and getting a coloring book was as close as she’d been. One of her foster brothers, who was a troubled kid was upset because he didn’t like his coloring book. He saw how happy Isabella was with hers and he was jealous, so when she went to sleep that night he got her book and tore all the pages out of it and broke all her crayons. Daryl told her that was a fucked-up story and if he’d known that kid, he would’ve kicked his ass. Isabella acted like it didn’t bother her, but Daryl knew better. It hurt him to think of her so young and innocent, loving that coloring book and then that asshole tore it up. It made him sad.

Daryl said that he’d never gotten anything from Santa either. He said, they never had a Christmas tree or stockings and that his dad sometimes wouldn’t even come home. He told her that one year, his mother saved up a few dollars and bought him the Hulk arms at a Goodwill store. He thought he’d hit the lottery. He loved those arms more than anything, but when his dad found out his mom had spent money on something so stupid, he took the arms and threw them in the fireplace and burned them. Daryl said he didn’t care, but Isabella knew it wasn’t true. He said, he’d never had a birthday party, but a couple times his mom made cupcakes and she’d always let him lick the bowl and spoon. He told her that was one of the best memories he had of his mom. He got kind of quiet for a while after that, so Isabella carried on the conversation.

“When I have a family, I’m going all out. I’m going to spoil them rotten. I’ll make the same holiday treats every year and it’ll become a family tradition. Each one of my children will have a homemade stocking with their names on them. We’ll have a big tree with lots of lights and a beautiful angel on the top. We’ll buy the angel our first Christmas together and then we’ll have the same one our whole lives, even when we have grandchildren. The outside of the house will be decorated in twinkle lights and it’ll have one of those big plastic Santa’s’ on the roof. You know, the ones with the reindeers?”

“Sounds like ya’ got it all figured out.” Daryl said.

“We’ll throw big birthday parties in the back yard and all our friends will come. My kids will have a ton of presents and a big piñata full of candy. On Halloween, they’ll always have the best costumes, because I’ll make them myself. They’ll make jack o lanterns and we’ll decorate the yard really scary. It’s going to be great. I can’t wait.” Isabella said enthusiastically.

Daryl thought about all this for a moment. It was a life that he’d only dreamt about as a child, something that was never attainable. He had friends and went to school with kids that these kinds of lives and he’d always been envious of them. He longed for a little normality in his life as a child. When he grew up, he let go of all those fantasies, but now hearing all of Isabella’s plans that yearning came back.

“If I ever had a kid, he’d have a bike. Not just any bike, but a BMX bike. I never had a bike when I was a kid, everyone had one except me.” Daryl told her. She agreed.

“What’s your favorite thing to do?” Isabella asked.

“Anything outside. Huntin’, shootin’, trackin’, shit like that. I gotta’ be outside everyday. I like to walk around on my land, through the trees, just lookin’ at shit. I like the way the dirt smells when it rains or the sounds the trees make when the winds blowin’. You probably think that’s stupid, but I gotta’ be outside, free, ya’ know?”

“I think that’s wonderful. I like that you can do all those things. I like that you know so much about nature. I’ll bet you’re really good at your job. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. It’s better when I get to go in the field, ya’ know? Outside. I mean when I’m doin’ that is when I feel the best. The office crap and paperwork and shit’s a pain in the ass, but bein’ in the field makes it worth it. What’s your favorite thing to do?” Daryl asked.

“I like watching people. Sometimes I go downtown to a deli or something and sit in the window and just study people. I try to figure out what they’re thinking or feeling. I can observe there body language and interactions with other people and kind of get a sense of who they are. There so many different types of people in New York, so many different cultures, races and classes and everybody has a story. Each one is significant in their own little world, yet they’re all together, interacting out there in the streets and buildings, subways, buses, everywhere with the rest of the world. They all touch other’s lives in some way and they may not even know it. It’s fascinating. Now you probably think I’m stupid, huh?”

“Nope! I get it. I like lookin’ at people too. You can learn a lot about a person by watching them when they think no ones watchin’. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I’ve seen.” Daryl told her.

“I’ll bet. That’s cool we both like doing that. Okay, tell me something personal.” She said.

“Like what. Whatta’ ya’ mean personal.” He asked her.

“Something you do, when no ones looking.” She explained.

“Hmm? I dunno. Like somethin’ I do by myself, like at home?” Daryl questioned.

“Yes, like that.” Isabella answered.

“I dunno. Oh, okay, here’s one. I like chocolate. I eat a chocolate bar almost every night before bed. Don’t think nobody know that, at least they ain’t said nothin. Like that? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes, exactly. I think that’s adorable!! What’s your favorite?” She asked.

“Hershey with almonds. I like dove milk chocolate too and Hershey Kisses with almonds. Those are my favorites. It’s gotta’ be milk chocolate though. I hate that dark shit.” He said, shaking his head. “Now I want a chocolate bar.”

Isabella laughed. “Well, we’ll get you one on the way home.”

#daryl dixon fan art #carrion trilevel #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #the waking dead #norman reedus #bigbaldhead

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dac-bonj · 8 years

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Lesotho Infinity And Beyond: 6 December 2016: South Africa- Cape Town!!!

My British friend George and I left for Cape Town from Hermanus in the morning. It was so stressful driving in a city with traffic again. We returned the car, super dirty and needing gas, but the car rental guy said he wouldn’t charge me, which was great. I checked into my hostel, Zebra Crossing, a really nice hostel with wifi and lots of indoor/outdoor chilling space (R170/night, the cheapest I was able to find in Cape Town). We wandered around a little bit, then decided to try to make it to the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens with the train. But it turns out that the trains were all screwed up and delayed due to people stealing parts of the train or something, so they weren’t running. TIA. So we wouldn’t be making it to the gardens. We then met up with these other girls George knew from other hostels, and went to their fancy hostel and swam in their pool, which was awesome. Then all of us went out on Long Street, which is the primary street for bars and music, etc. Every night on Long Street is loud and crazy, but this was Saturday night, so it was especially so, and really fun.

The next day, I went on one of several free walking tours of Cape Town. I ended doing all three they offered, but on that particular day, I did the historical tour. I learned the following: There are 4 million people in Cape Town, with 1 million in the surrounding townships. Most people are coloured and speak English as a first language. On the tour, we saw Desmond Tutu’s church, some Dutch East India Company buildings, the company gardens, the spot where Nelson Mandela made his first speech after being released from prison, and a court house where they determined people’s race with such banal things as the the “pencil test,” in which they stuck a pencil in your hair, and if the pencil stayed put, you were black. If it didn’t, you were white or coloured. The way they classified race was so arbitrary sometimes, and people would often be reclassified from year to year, depending on how some clerk thought they looked. Absurd. I didn’t realize that Apartheid only ended 22 years ago, and the effects are definitely still being felt. Our tour guide was very careful in his choice of racial terms, saying things like “African” or a specific tribe like “Zulu” instead of saying “Black.” Other guides I had had no problem saying “Black.” I guess it’s up to everyone’s specific preference. The first guide said that everyone treats the racial terms differently, some wearing a label like “coloured” as a badge of honor, but others refusing to be defined by their race. They used to call all black people “Bantu,” even though that’s a specific language classification, and certainly not all Southern African tribes fall under this category. Things were divided into “whites only” and “non-whites only,” and even important foreign businesspeople visiting from Japan and China were put into the non-whites category and were treated as second class citizens. Then eventually all Japanese people, and then Chinese people became honorary whites, being granted all human rights and privileges, because of important business dealings. Cape Town, from the start, was always treated like a business for the Dutch East India Company, being used as a pit stop half way between the trade routes, so I guess they decided that people who were favorable to their business interests should be treated well even though they weren’t technically white.

One of two benches outside of the High Court. The other says "Coloureds Only." They are just kept for historical significance; the benches in Cape Town aren't all like this!

One day, a few people from my hostel decided to rent a car and drive down the cape to go to Simon’s town and Cape Point. Our cast of characters include a paramedic/ambulance driver from England/Cyprus, a photographer and adventure company owner from India, and an annoying nature cult lady who only wore white from the US. We rented a car from Around About Cars and picked it up in the morning. Our first stop was Simon’s town/Boulder’s Beach to see the awesome and waddley penguins. They were so cute! I also found my Peace Corps Lesotho friend Hillary there too, who I didn’t even know was in Cape Town, so that was a total coincidence to run into her. She rented a bike for the day to go down the cape as well, because the trains were still out of commission.

Penguins!

Our next stop was Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope, which had amazing views of the surrounding mountains and cliffs, as well as the endless expanse of the ocean. There were a few trails we walked along in the area, including to an old light house. (It was at this point where Nature Cult Lady split to go to a special beach to do her voodoo rituals. Obviously, we did not join her.)

The road to Cape Point

Cliffs at Cape Point

Hey guys!

Obligatory handstand

"The most southwestern point on the African continent."

So many lizards!

I'd never get tired of these views

Then on the way back, we drove through Chapman’s Peak, on a road that was partially cut out of a cliff, which was awesome. Then we arrived back in Cape Town in the afternoon to return the car. That evening, we decided to light the braai (bbq) and roasted some meat and vegetables. This oldish guy was talking about working as a cameraman all over South Africa and having lions jump at him, which was pretty entertaining to hear.

In Cape Town, there are two main mountains to climb: Lion’s Head and Table Mountain. The next day, I decided to climb Lion’s Head in the morning. The hike takes you spiraling around the mountain, giving views of the city, the harbor, the ocean, and the beaches on the other side. There are also ladders, chains, and staples to help you get up, which was super fun to climb up on.

A ladder on the path up to the top of Lion's Head

A view from partway up Lion's Head. Signal Hill is on the right.

Staples and chains

The beautiful city

A sign at the top of Lion's Head. Who knows what it originally said?

On the way down, I took the path down to Signal Hill, where they fire a cannon every day at the same time. I saw paragliders taking off and floating around, swooping toward the hill and then gliding out toward the sea.

Paragliders that just took off from Signal Hill

Hillary and I met up for Free Tour #2, which was a tour of the Bo Kaap neighborhood. It’s a super colorful area of Cape Town where everyone still greets you (“Salaam” – it’s mostly Muslim there), people look out for each other, and troublemaking kids play a kind of ding-dong-ditch game. Our guide had practically grown up in that neighborhood, so it was great to hear some of his first-hand stories of the area. He explained that it’s so colorful because a long time ago, when everything was painted white, one person painted their house a bright color to distinguish it from the others as a sort of advertisement for the business they were running there. Other people caught on, trying to be more colorful than the next, and the result is:

Hillary and I finished off the evening with dinner at Bisemilah restaurant in the Bo Kaap for some delicious bobotie, a traditional South African dish of spiced mincemeat coated in a kind of egg topping, served over rice. It was so flavorful!

About halfway through my stay in Cape Town, I decided to move to a new hostel. Zebra Crossing was great, but I wanted to check out another hostel that some of my friends had stayed at, Long Street Backpackers. While Zebra Crossing was calm and quiet, Long Street Backpackers had a reputation of being loud and crazy. And it delivered, in a good way. It was also R170 per night, but wifi wasn’t free. I wasn’t mad, though, as I feel like it forces people to actually interact with each other (gasp!), which traveling is all about anyway. Wifi is a crutch. Plus I had a sim card with a little data anyway, so I could do the essentials like Whatsapp and email.

View from one of several balconies of Long Street Backpackers

So the day after I moved hostels, I loaded up my Cape Town bus card and bussed to Hout Bay, which is a beautiful beach and harbor area just south of Cape Town. I really wanted to surf, but the waves were tiny to nonexistent. The surf shop guy there told me it wouldn’t be worth trying to surf. I love the ocean, though, so I couldn’t resist at least swimming in the (freezing) water anyway. On the way back from Hout Bay, I stopped by Lladundo and Camps Bay, incredible-looking beaches.

Camps Bay Beach

I got back to Long Street Backpackers and immediately met an Israeli girl staying in my dorm. All Israelis have to go into the army, and she just finished three years of field intelligence. She was traveling now and would start college in a few months, and felt behind compared to similar-aged people of other nationalities, because lots of them have already established their careers by now. But I told her that having three years of life experience was better, because now she has a better idea of what she wants to do with her life before going to college. Lots of people, me included, just went to college without really knowing what they wanted to do, because going to college is just “what one does” right after high school.

Other people I met at this hostel include a sweet but crazy English guy, covered in tattoos, who takes a few weeks off every year and just goes insane partying in some foreign location. His blood brother, one of the managers of the hostel, and this English guy were being crazy together while another manager, a guy with a beer belly and a ponytail, looked on with a mixture of indifference, judgement, and brotherly love. There were also a couple of stunt guys who liked to hang out at the hostel a lot, one of which legit looked like a ken doll. The fun and craziness continued through my stay, helped along by the hostel bar’s free-shots-for-varying-levels-of-nudity policy (which I did not personally participate in. Don't worry, Mom.).

Perhaps the most iconic destination in Cape Town is Table Mountain, named so presumably because it’s flat on top. Many afternoons, a cloud will descend onto the top and start spilling down the sides, which people aptly call the table cloth. I woke up early one morning and bussed up the long hill to the base of the mountain. I went to the info booth and they pointed the way to the advised path, which I heard was just 2+ hours of stairs up to the top. I asked where the fun/hard path was, and they told me that that path was not advised because it was more dangerous, and that if I got hurt and told someone that the info people had told me how to go up the hard path, they would get in trouble. After persisting, the lady reluctantly nudged her head in the direction of the start of the trail. Sweet! It was really fun, with lots of rock scrambling, some chains and staples where they didn't need to be, no chains or staples where they definitely needed to be, and great views of the city once I got toward the top. For those who don’t care to climb the mountain, there is a cable car that will take you right to the top in just a few seconds. The hard path up would have been almost impossible to go down, as I was hoisting and squeezing myself on and between boulders on the way up, so I decided to take the normal path down. Surprise, it was an hour and a half of stairs, to the detriment of my knees. Ouch. While I can go up a mountain all day long (and have), I always hate going down a mountain. I might have taken the cable car down had I known/wasn’t so cheap.

Partway up Table Mountain, looking at Lion's Head

"This is not an easy way down," accurately advises a sign at the top where the hard path pops out

The tiny city below

Another great place in Cape Town is the V&A Waterfront. It’s a big expanse of shops and restaurant on the edge of the harbor. AKA it's pretty fancy. I got some awesome food, including a pan-seared beef and feta cheese wrap and some bubble tea. There was a Korean cultural festival happening when I was there, and I watched some k-pop dance contest on the steps of a little amphitheater. Then I walked to the Sea Point Promenade, which is a path along the water.

These yellow frame things are all over the city

Tourists think they're funny

The main reason I was at the waterfront was because that’s where the Robben Island tour leaves. I had ordered my ticket online a few days earlier because they sell out pretty quickly. My tour mates and I lined up to get on the ferry, which takes you 45 minutes out to Robben Island. After we got there, we got on some busses that would take us around the island. Before getting to the prison, we had a small tour of the island itself and what buildings used to be what, and also saw some penguins. At the prison, we got a tour with this awesome ex-political prisoner who told us all about life in the prison. There were many people, including Nelson Mandela, who were held there for many years for being part of the resistance movement against apartheid. He told us about how you were only allowed to have a few letters per year, and they were heavily censored by prison authorities by having words and sentences physically cut out of the paper. He told us about working in the quarries hammering rocks, and that the prisoners used to have secret meetings there to discuss political plans against the apartheid government. Even in prison, apartheid was going strong, as black prisoners had to wear short pants like children, got easier jobs, and got less food, and coloured prisoners got better treatment. Then we all ferried back to the mainland. I don’t think I would have understood/appreciated the tour NEARLY as much if I hadn’t read Nelson Mandela’s book, Long Walk to Freedom. It’s super interesting, and in general it helped inform me about life in South Africa (and in turn, somewhat about life in Lesotho).

Entrance to Robben Island

Beautiful Table Mountain on the mainland

Our guide talking to the group in the prison yard

One day, I decided to take the third of three free walking tours, this time in the District 6 area of the city. The tour was pretty boring, so I abandoned it and walked to Woodstock, a neighborhood in the northeast of the city. It was such a good idea to go there instead of enduring the rest of the tour, because I found SO MUCH STREET ART! If you know me, you know that I love love love street art, and it was literally around every corner in this neighborhood. Some people sitting outside their houses were super friendly, and when they saw me with my camera, they even pointed me in the direction of the best pieces. So cool!

Woodstock, straight ahead

This was one of the murals that the tour guide showed us. It's very important, but the building owner was painting over it! We might have been some of the last people to see it. It depicted what life was like in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s in South Africa.

A huge mural

Beep

Lots of the murals were animal-related, including this elephant...

...and this rhino

And even some of the buildings are crazily painted

The last place I went around Cape Town was Muizenberg, a beach town known for surfing. By this point, the train was actually running again, so a German guy (who I had first met in Coffee Bay and was staying at my hostel again in Cape Town) and I trained about an hour down there. Someone had told him that the train was unsafe, but I found it perfectly fine. Sure, there was graffiti all over the outside, but I felt completely safe. Some people are just sketched out over nothing, I guess. After we arrived at Muizenberg, we both rented surf boards and wetsuits and tried our hand at the waves. I still kind of suck at surfing, but every time I do it, I have the best time. Then after falafel for lunch, we went on a quest to buy him a wetsuit that he could take with him when he went to New Zealand in a few days. He was doing the one year working visa, which I am becoming more and more enthralled by. He was going to be a hiking guide there, which sounds awesome because I heard that New Zealand is absolutely beautiful for hiking. We eventually found him a suit and trained back to Cape Town, sufficiently exhausted by the day.

A screenshot of all the places I had dropped pins on my maps.me app. It shows where all I stopped along the coast from Durban to Cape Town!

I was super sad to leave Cape Town, and I forced myself to buy a bus ticket to Pretoria a few days earlier because I knew that if I didn’t buy it, I’d just stay in Cape Town forever. A friend I’d made at the hostel was super nice and drove me to the bus/train station where I got on the Intercape bus to Pretoria. Cape Town was one of the best places I’d visited by far: outdoor activities, indoor activities, food, night life, ocean, more food, diverse cultures, and cool people, Bye, Cape Town! I’ll definitely be back!

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