#John Procter x Reader

[middleearthpixie]

There is/will be more... :)

The Visitor

Ahhh... Armitage Summer Splash #16 - Thanks as always to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for providing the prompts!

Trope: Love Triangle 

Quote: “As long as you’re here.”

RA Character: John Proctor 

Relationship: Modern!John Proctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Scorned woman 

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,967

***

His secretary rapped on the door, then opened it to poke her head into his office. “Mr. Proctor? You’ve a visitor.”

He looked up from the file he’d been studying. “A visitor? Who?”

“A Miss Williams.”

His gut kinked, although he tried to keep it from showing on his face as he set down his pen and shook his head. “Tell her I’m in a meeting and am not to be disturbed.”

“Of course.” Anna bobbed her head and drew back, closing the door behind her. As he tried to focus back on his work, his gut bubbled furiously. What did she wanted from him now? She’d already cost him his marriage and nearly cost him his family. So why, nearly a year after he ended their affair, was Abigail back? Her showing up at his office was only the latest in her attempts over the last few weeks to get in touch with him. She’d called and left voicemails on his cell, on his landline, with his secretary. They went ignored. He had no desire to see or speak to her, had moved on and wanted her to do the same. 

He finished up the work on his desk and as he emerged from his office and passed by Anna, he said, “If Miss Williams shows up again, she is not to be admitted, understood?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Proctor.” She smiled up at him. “Heading out?”

“I am. I have somewhere to be by eight.”

“A hot date?”

He laughed. “Something like that.”

“Well, have fun and I’ll see you Monday. Have a good weekend.”

He drew on his coat and picked up his briefcase. “You, too, Anna.”

His steps echoed through the Mueller Building’s high-ceilinged atrium, and he slowed as he caught sight of Abigail waiting in the vestibule between the sets of doors. His gut kinked as he shoved the first door open and said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What else am I to do, when you won’t return my calls or see me?”

“Take the hint, that’s what. I told you, it’s over.”

“You say that but I don’t think you mean it.” She shot up from the narrow wood bench where she’d been sitting and reached for him. “I just need a minute, John. Just talk to me.”

He ignored her, striding through the second set of doors to step out into a beautiful late November day. Dappled sunlight spilled across the parking lot, and some of the trees still had a few their leaves left, while the others were bare and naked. Leaves that had been brilliant golds and reds and oranges were now dried up and brown, gathering along the edge of the parking lot, where the lawn rose higher than the pavement. With each pass of the wind, they scuttled across the lot, until they hit a car tire or the building itself. In another week or so, the landscapers would be around to sweep them up, but for now, they littered as far as the eye could see.

His BMW 540i sedan was parked in the far corner, and Abigail dogged him the entire way, saying, “Why won’t you just talk to me? What’ve I done that was so wrong?”

“We’ve been through this,” he said, aiming his fob at the car to unlock the door. As he reached it, he stopped and spun about. “I’ve lost enough because of you. Now, you need to leave me alone.”

“Because of me? Correct me if I’m wrong,” her dark eyes flashed with fury as she glared up at him, “but weren’t you the one who was married? I certainly wasn’t in that bed alone, now, was I?”

“Yes, I was married. And no, you were’t alone. But, that was then and this is now, and we are done.”

She grabbed his arm, her fingers clamping about him, digging into him like a falcon’s talons. “But, your divorce is final now, isn’t it? You’re free to be with whoever you want now, right?”

“I am.” He jerked his arm free and tugged open the driver’s side door. “And I’m seeing someone else, Abigail. And I am not letting you ruin this as well.”

“If that isn’t just like a man,” she growled, her eyes going narrow. “You are the one who’s married and yet, it’s my fault you can’t keep your dick in your pants!”

“Leave me alone, Abigail. I mean it.” He threw himself into the driver’s seat, turned over the engine, and without even a look up at her, whipped out of his space and took off toward the lot’s main entrance. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Abigail as possible. If he could find a way to remove her permanently from his life, he would gladly do it. 

You knew John was divorced. You’d met his three boys when things between grew serious between the two of you. They were still warming up to you, and you weren’t at all sure how long it should take, since you’d never dated a man who’d had children before. This was all new territory for you. They didn’t outright hate you, so you figured you were off to a good start, if nothing else.

You were supposed to be going away for the weekend with him. His sons were going to their mother’s and he’d suggested a trip to the lake for your first getaway together. You looked forward to it, since you rarely had a day off. Running Brewster’s Place took up so much of your time and you weren’t all that good at delegating responsibilities, but you were trying. After all, you were leaving your baby in your manager’s more than capable hands, and you promised yourself you would not obsess with checking on Kerry every hour or so.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

On Fridays, the coffee house was open until eight, and at ten of, the bell above the door chimed and you looked up to see an unfamiliar woman slip in. She was tall and slim, with dark hair pulled back into a loose bun, with just enough wispy tendrils trailing to give that adorably messy look you could never quite manage to pull off.

She came up to the counter, her dark eyes wide as she said, “Hi, can I get a large coconut coffee, light and sweet?”

“Sure.” You took a large cup from the stack, scooped a tablespoon of sugar into it, filled it a third of the way with half-and-half and then poured the coffee in. You stirred it, clapped a lid on and brought it back. “Three dollars even, please.”

The woman handed her a debit card, which went through with no trouble, and she took her receipt and her coffee to one of the tables over by the fireplace. There were only two or three other people lingering about, and Kerry was busy over in the back restocking the shelf of whole coffee beans you sold. 

At eight o’clock, the bell jingled and you smiled as John came through the doorway, handsome as ever in jeans and his Navy pea coat. He needed a haircut, his dark hair swept off to the left from the wind that whipped down along Davenport Street, which was closed to all but foot traffic. 

He smiled as you came around the corner. “A sight for sore eyes.”

“Is that so?” You closed the space between the two of you, slipping your arms about his waist and pushed up on your toes to brush his lips with a kiss. His beard came prickly soft against your cheeks, nowhere near as foreign to you now as it had been when you first began dating. Now you were more than used to the scraping and occasional beard burn in odd places. 

You broke the kiss. “The boys get off okay?”

“They did. And their mother was happy to have them for the weekend. She’s taking them to their grandparents up in Vermont to get some early season skiing in.”

“Skiing now?”

“Okemo’s season runs from November on.” 

Kerry came over then. “Hey, John. You ready for your weekend?”

“I am, indeed. I’m just waiting—” he glanced around and then his voice trailed off as he turned toward the fireplace. 

You saw his shoulders stiffen and you looked over at the woman with the light and sweet coconut coffee. “Is something wrong?”

John shook his head slowly. “No. Nothing is wrong at all.”

The dark-haired woman lowered the coffee cup and smiled. “Hi, John.”

“John?” You touched his arm. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on,” he told you, turning to you as he shook his head, but you didn't miss the darkness that dropped behind his blue eyes. He caught you by the hand. “Let’s just go, okay?”

“John,” Coconut Coffee called over, “I have to talk to you.”

You looked from him to her and back. “Who is that woman?”

“She’s no one—just someone I used to know.”

Your gut twisted. “Someone you used to know.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you on the way to the lake.”

“John,” the woman set her cup down and rose, “I only need a few minutes, and as long as you’re here—”

“I don’t care, Abigail,” he cut her off, shaking his head. “I don’t have a few minutes to spare, so,” he turned back to you, “are you ready?”

Despite the apprehensive flutters in your gut, you nodded and from the corner of your eye, saw Abigail scowl. Where she’d at least pretended to be friendly earlier, now she radiated pure hostility. You didn't need to be told that at one point John had been involved with her, but she wasn’t his ex-wife. You’d seen Beth Proctor several times over the course of your relationship with him and while you weren’t what anyone would call friends, she didn't seem to mind your existence.

Not like Abigail, who glared at you now as if she’d just love to plant you six feet under ground. You’d never seen such hatred in anyone’s eyes as you did in those flat dark eyes that remained trained on you. Your blood actually ran cold at the venom she shot in your direction and without thinking, you linked your fingers with his. He tightened his about yours. “Let’s go, shall we? We’ve a long drive ahead of us.”

“I don’t want to leave Kerry here alone.” You turned to Abigail. “You need to leave now. The shop is closing in two minutes.”

You expected Abigail to argue, but she merely offered up a slight smile and stood, taking her coffee with her as she strode to the door. She pushed it open, but paused, and over her shoulder said, “He’ll come back to me, you know. He always does. It’s just a matter of time before he grows bored with you, just as he did with his wife and any other woman he’s screwed. You’re not special, you know. And I am very patient.”

John’s fingers tightened about yours enough that it actually hurt and when you looked up, it was to see such a look of rage on his face—his jaw clenched, his eyes radiating fury—that for a moment, he was downright frightening.

“Stay away from me,” he told her, shaking his head. “I’m not going to keep saying it. Stay the fuck away from me. Don’t call me. Don’t come to my office. Don’t come back here.”

“You say that now. You’ll change your mind.” Abigail threw the door the rest of the way open and strolled out into the darkness with a low, mournful whistle on her lips and somehow, you knew you hadn’t seen the last of her. 

***

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