Another Twilight fanfic

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-DivineBeastTaco

-KillJoy

Woooo.... Tis happening... We're at chapter 147 or 148 in patron and Kofi...no sure, I'm posting this around 3:25am on my end... My brain is barely functioning.

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1973 - Nashville, Tennessee

Robin's POV

Okay, you're probably wondering why I'm here, working in a bank in the middle of Nashville, Tennessee, right? I know, it's a weird place for someone like me, but hear me out.

I love my family—seriously, they're everything to me—but even immortals need a little "me time." Especially when you've got a list of things you've always wanted to do that dates back to a past life. See, I don't exactly have dreams; I have fantasies.

Skydiving? Did it. (During my stint in the Air Force. Don't ask how I got in. Let's just say charm and a little supernatural persuasion can work wonders.) Flying a jet? Nailed it. And no, I'm not interested in flying a commercial plane—too many innocent people. Private jets? Maybe. But I'm not crashing my plane, thank you very much.

Anyway, this particular fantasy? Working as a bank teller. Past-life me thought they looked so polished, sitting behind their counters with their sharp suits and mysterious smiles. Of course, the fantasy didn't include creepy coworkers or sleazy customers. But hey, I'm here to check it off the list, not rewrite Gone with the Wind.

After my close call in Liverpool (thanks a lot, Nasu), I figured it was time for a little reinvention. Apparently, keeping my first name and flaunting my unique eye color wasn't the best way to stay under the radar. Who knew?

So now, I'm in disguise. Red hair—because why waste all the dye I bought?—and green contact lenses, since venom-free me can finally wear them without melting my corneas. Oh, and the name? "Robin" had to go. I'm no longer Robin(for now) from the Cullens family... I picked the first name that came up when I saw the Nashville sign. Sounds like I belong on a country album cover, doesn't it?

This little bank teller gig was supposed to be a one-week experiment. And today's my last day—thank the stars, because if I spend one more second dealing with office politics or fending off inappropriate advances, someone's going to "accidentally" disappear.

Which brings me to Carl Dean, a man so greasy he could power a small fleet of trucks. He sauntered up to my counter, business card in hand, and unleashed his sleazy charm like it was an Olympic sport.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, leaning in like we were conspiring to rob the place.

"I think you should keep the line moving, Mr. Bean," I said, not even trying to hide my disdain.

"It's Dean," he corrected, flashing me a grin that made my soul want to leave my body. "Carl Dean. But you can call me Carl."

Nope. Not happening.

Just as I was deciding between pretending to faint or stapling his business card to his forehead, a soft voice interrupted.

"Carl, sweetie, the manager's ready for you."

I looked up—and forgot Carl existed.

The voice belonged to a stunning blonde woman who somehow managed to look like an angel in this fluorescent-lit hellscape. She had the kind of warm, radiant beauty that made me want to punch Carl for ever looking at anyone else.

After Carl slithered off, I was about to slap a "Back in 15 Minutes" sign on the counter and flee. But then the blonde spoke again.

"If it wasn't clear," she began, her voice tinged with exasperation, "that man is my husband."

Her husband. Seriously? Carl?

"I'm not mad at you," she continued. "He's... well, he's Carl. He does this all the time. I guess I've just gotten used to it."

I tilted my head, giving her a once-over. "You seem awfully calm about it."

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "What's the point of getting angry? He gets bored eventually. But looking at you..." She trailed off, her gaze lingering on my face.

I smirked. "Looking at me... what?"

Her cheeks turned pink, and she quickly looked away. "I don't know. You just don't seem like the type to... fall for someone like him."

"Good instincts," I said, leaning forward slightly. "He's not my type."

Her eyes flicked back to me, curiosity flickering in them. "He's not?"

I grinned. "Nope. My type's more... interesting. And, you know, single."

'Also, female, and blonde' I thought, but didn't voice out.

She blinked, her blush deepening. "Well, that's... good to know."

This poor woman. Gorgeous, kind, and clearly stuck with a man who didn't deserve her. I decided then and there to make her feel appreciated, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"You know," I said, my tone teasing, "you've got the kind of smile that could make someone forget their own name."

Her blush spread to her ears, and she let out a soft, nervous laugh. "You're just saying that."

"Am I?" I asked, leaning on the counter. "Because I'm pretty sure half the people in this bank are jealous of me right now."

She laughed again, her shoulders relaxing as the tension melted away. "You're something else, you know that?"

"Guilty as charged," I replied with a wink.

For the next few minutes, we talked—well, flirted, really. I told her ridiculous stories about my time at the bank (most of which I may have embellished), and she laughed so hard I thought she might cry. Her laugh was light and musical, the kind that made you want to keep it going forever.

Eventually, she glanced at her watch and sighed. "I should probably get going."

"Duty calls?" I asked.

"Something like that," she said, her tone wistful.

Before she turned to leave, she hesitated. "What's your name?"

I paused, then gave her a playful smile. "Jolene."

She repeated it softly, almost reverently. "Jolene."

I nodded, a little amused. "That's right. Jolene."

She whispered it one last time, as if committing it to memory, then gave me a small, enigmatic smile before walking away.

~~

Blonde's POV

By the time she got home, the blonde couldn't stop thinking about the woman she'd met at the bank. Jolene. That name swirled in her mind like a melody, and her green eyes—oh, those eyes—seemed to linger in her thoughts.

She walked into the living room, clutching her purse and trying to shake the image of Jolene's teasing smile. Carl was sprawled on the couch, fiddling with the TV remote like it was a Rubik's Cube.

"How'd the meeting go?" she asked absently, her voice carrying a faint edge of sarcasm.

"Same ol', same ol'," Carl replied, not looking up. "You know how these things are."

She hummed noncommittally, already heading to her little writing nook. Once there, she pulled out her notebook and sat down, tapping the pen against her chin.

Jolene.

The name practically sang itself. And the more she thought about the woman—her confidence, her charm, the way she'd made her feel beautiful—the more the lyrics started to flow.

Your beauty is beyond compare...

Her pen moved quickly, the words tumbling onto the page as if they'd been waiting there all along. She barely noticed the time passing, too caught up in the rhythm of the song forming before her eyes.

With flaming locks of auburn hair, with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green...

The song was practically writing itself. She paused, reading over the lines, and let out a soft laugh.

"Jolene," she murmured, testing the name on her tongue. "Jolene... Jolene... Jolene..."

The melody came to her almost immediately, haunting and pleading, the perfect accompaniment to the words she'd just written.

Just as she was humming the chorus, a grating voice interrupted her reverie.

"Dolly! Where's my other tie?"

She froze, blinking. "What?"

"My tie!" Carl bellowed from the bedroom. "The good one! The one with the stripes!"

Dolly Parton sighed, setting down her pen. "Coming!" she called, her voice laced with mild irritation.

As she stood, she glanced down at her notebook, reading over the lyrics one last time. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

Jolene.

She didn't know if she'd ever see the woman again, but one thing was certain—she'd made an impression.

And as for Carl? Well, he might've been the source of the heartbreak in the song, but Jolene? Jolene was the muse.

~~

Back at the bank, Robin leaned against the counter, her shift nearly over. She had no idea she'd just been the catalyst for a song that would go down in history.

She was too busy thinking about how to dodge her family tracking her down again. But maybe, just maybe, she'd crossed paths with greatness without even realizing it.

"Jolene," she muttered to herself, chuckling. "Who knew that name would stick?"

She smirked, flipping the "Closed" sign on her counter. Time to find her next adventure.

~~

AN: wooooooo... I really wanted to do this one hahahahhaha

We got new readers.. new readers. Also thanks as always for the powerstones my lovely awesome readers who still stick around. Also the comments.. the wholsome comments.. 😭 thank you so much for your support!

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