#my friend was texting me about the debate during this and i was like queen i can't handle the collapse of this country

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 17 thoughts

whispers softly. man... i need a minute. shaky breath.

okay. i'll start at the top like always. AUGH THE TEARS. fighting them. okay. need to put on some sad songs to accompany the 45-60 minutes it will take to type all this up

so, i sat down ready to see where this was gonna go. in fact i noted that i was incredibly locked in. which i continue to believe that i was.

we see a submarine, which is a type of craft i just do not trust. even before all that went down last summer. too scary for me. but they see something giving off a signal. and despite being a cartographer ship, they have missiles. and they're gonna go towards the thing they see on the radar, because they were told to. which seems wrong.

but then all their power is knocked out!!! and they are ordered to surface. but how will they do that under a ton of ice?!?!

title sequence. i was expecting different than the usual "the truth is out there" but i guess it's just business as usual over here despite it all

back to where we left off: scully's on the phone with real mulder and fake mulder is in her room. she hangs up on real mulder and tells the fake one that it was a wrong number, which had to be confusing to real mulder.

she tells him to put his hands on the wall, and he makes some quip about being shot before and not caring for it, and for a minute i'm like oh shit, that's a very mulder thing to do- what if he is, in fact, real mulder, and it's fake mulder on the phone? but that theory didn't make much sense anyway and also it was quickly put to rest by the fact that he started beating the hell out of scully.

so time skip: real mulder shows up to the scene with his "sister", who says the alien hit man is gonna call and ask to make a trade: scully for his "sister", and yeah, quotes are verbatim, i was still not buying this whole family relation thing

but his "sister" says that she knows how to kill the alien hit man: you have to hit the base of his skull. maybe. she isn't 100% certain. and also you can't miss because their blood is toxic. which we actually did already know!

and he's getting suspicious. why won't she explain exactly where she has been all this time? and what's this deal with her "father"? he's yelling at her at this point and i get it because it's not adding up to me either

she says that the aliens have been trying to establish a colony on earth since the 1940's, and:

"it's their belief that the stewardship of the planet is being forsaken" <- okay yeah. can't argue there. some of us are trying, aliens. i am not one of the mega companies pouring nuclear waste into the ocean. but maybe y'all could do a better job. and she continues:

"and that by default they'll someday become the natural heirs" <- well hey. you were sounding reasonable but now you are not. have we considered that maybe the people already here could give it another go free from the shackles of the 1%? you're acting like it's an estate sale and buddy we're still living in the house. you lost me there, and i was willing to hear you out.

she says that all of the clones worked at abortion clinics to gain access to fetal tissue, so they could combine human and alien dna. which i imagine had to be a good pr boost for abortion clinics (heavy on the /s here)

and the killer is after them because their experiments with mixing alien with human dna were not sanctioned, so they're "diluting the race", which i guess seems like the thing they would be worried about.

he doesn't seem to fully buy it, because he says "that's a good story, but i've heard a lot of good stories lately" which is true!!! our old worstie ambrose chapel was a liar, remember? or at least someone impersonating him was doing some lying!

"i'm your sister, fox, you have to trust me" UM PROOF?? have we done a dna test??? you can't just show up like that!!!!!

skinner knocks at the door... but is it really him? or the shapeshifting hit man????

"why are the lights out?" skinner asks quite reasonably "orders from my ophthalmologist" he says, lying very easily for a man for loves the Truth. but it did make me giggle.

sister approves that it is really skinner! only after they set a trap to get him just in case it wasn't. again i ask why she can tell if it's the man or not but okay. we move past that.

he makes introductions: "this is my sister, samantha mulder" to which skinner replies "WHAT"

and yeah. i would react the same!!!!

(also weird to hear mulder used as a last name. to me that's just the guy. you know?)

NOOO his phone rings. it's scully calling from a payphone. "he says he's gonna kill me if you don't give him what he wants" oh. okay.

there's no time to explain to skinner what is going on so!!! just please trust me, he says!!! and he does. another point for skinner, who is like a strange uncle or cousin to me.

they go to do a hostage trade: "samantha" for scully. and is this the same bridge where they did the hostage deal for mulder at the end of s1? do they only have one bridge for hostage deals. might be a bit much to have 2 in one city.

skinner has a sniper in the bush, ready to shoot at the base of the alien hit man's neck during the exchange. okay save the day mister sniper please.

AUGH HOSTAGE EXCHANGE. it's so tense. i paused here to write how tense it was, which did not ease it in the slightest. the hit man has a gun to scully's head and it's recalling mulder's early trauma with hostage exchanges. they're waiting for the right moment to shoot....

scully's in the car!!!! but samantha tried to use the needle that kills the aliens and she MISSED and the sniper shot was messed up and then there's firing and is it the sniper? or is it the hit man? who is hit? it is very unclear!!!!! both hit man and samantha tumble into the cold water beneath.

he's still at the bridge, staring down into the place he last saw her. scully comes out to join him, and he says "you should be at the hospital" (she has gauze on her head and says she was just discharged)

he's staring into the water, trying to come up with different ways she might have lived

"why didn't you tell me on the phone that it was her?" "i couldn't tell you 'cause you'd never let me go through with it" AUGHHHHHHHHH.

(and knowing how the episode ends. i am glad this happened. but in the moment. this was a gut punch)

she asks how he knew it was really his sister (valid question, one i fear he should have asked as well) and he snaps about how could she ask that, and she's like, dude someone with your face and body just kidnapped me???? so the whole who is who thing is a little murky??

(she actually calmly explains this. without any judgement. judgement added was my own. but you can imagine that after this experience, hearing "he's an alien" might still be a bit of a hard sell)

okay, mr. mulder is on the scene. he has to tell his dad he lost his sister. I lost her, he says. emphasis on the I. as if it was an action that he took. fuck.

and his dad hits back with a "you LET this man take your sister?" and son mulder is CRYING. what the HELL this is too much. the man has suffered too much. i'm given flashbacks to the last time we saw him cry when he thought he lost scully forever.

PAUSE. i just know the actors were eating up these lines. ohhh i know they were sinking their teeth into them the way that good dialogue allows you to. when you tap into the soul of a character, a whole person who isn't even real, because the writing cuts to their heart. yeah yeah yeah i knowww they were rolling with it and it felt Good

back to the scene. his father is giving him a guilt trip about how his mother is going to deal with "losing her again". and he's apologizing and crying when his dad pulls out an envelope

"your sis- SAMANTHA" told me to give you this.

the implication that he lost the claim to be considered related to her????? is sooooo entirely messed up?? that is the kind of thing that ruins a person???? holy fuck??

he's sobbing while opening the letter, and it gives an address where she says they can meet up if they are separated... so maybe she's really still out there??? hope has been installed back into "she's not actually dead" camp

he rolls up to the address and parks in an area labeled "NO PARKING". grief will do this to a guy.

but just as he arrives, scully calls and says they found her in the river. NOOOOOO THE NEWLY RETURNED HOPE.... "whatever you're feeling, you can't blame yourself" she says, knowing that he must be putting his whole soul into Blaming Himself

but... her body is melting??? is it an alien body??? is the melting gonna turn into toxic gas?? scully don't stare at it you're gonna get all thick blood!!!!

back to mulder. this man is experiencing all stages of grief at once on the steps of a women's clinic. he goes in and pulls out a gun and boy i sure hope there are no women inside.

someone is in there. it's... someone with samantha's face??? saying that she knows "she's dead"????? "it was all a lie", he mumbles as he realizes he was played

YESSSS I KNEW IT. i knew that was NOT his sister. i knew it was too weird and coincidental to be true. this makes the grief of losing her dissipate entirely so i do consider this a win beyond me just being able to guess where the plot was going

and i'm thinking, how the hell is he gonna explain all this to scully? like, to mom and dad, you will have to play along with the whole "she died" thing, and while that is by no means easy, it is a concrete thing you can say and do. but scully??? how is she going to react to "someone pretended to be my sister and then got killed"

(i suppose mulder could tell his parents that DNA testing on "samantha's body" proved no relation, but that would still be complicated to walk through, because there was no corpse to prove that, you know, because she dissolved- maybe scully could make some paperwork to make it look real?)

back to the matter at hand: these aliens with the same face are saying that he must save their original source. and he says "i am not your savior" which- tea. set your boundaries king. in fact, had i been there, i would have done the opposite of protecting, and instead start blasting these aliens that pretended to be my long-dead sister.

but they have leverage... they know where she really is...... so he doesn't walk out....

hit man arrives!!!!! armed with his needle!!! and mulder goes to confront him, but he knocks him on his back, and sets a fire- mulder's weakness!!!!!!

scully is making a report. she cannot substantiate his claims of aliens. and she's got a cut on her forehead from hit man taking her. my poor queen :(

back to the fbi agent that died in the last episode. he has nasty cuts allllll over. like he was carved with designs. sorry for that imagery but i saw it and must describe it.

she thinks she can solve this case with the power of SCIENCE!!! what killed this guy, exactly? maybe if we can figure it out, the other pieces could fall into place

so the virus that causes the blood to thicken is inhibited by the cold.... which explains our earlier scene of mulder in the ice tub and her yelling about him needing to be cold...

DEEP THROAT 2.0 ARRIVAL? (sidenote does this dude have a real name? like while this was airing what were y'all calling him...)

he tells mulder that the last alien- the one who was sent to kill the clones, our shapeshifting hit man- has been tracked to alaska, and that you have to pick your battles to win the war. telling him not to go to alaska. can you imagine.

scully goes to his place and knocks but no one answers. and his newspapers on at the doorstep. so she busts out her keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey..... heart still melts that she has this.......

and HE KNEW SHE WAS GONNA INVESTIGATE???? he sent her an email..... and he's saying how he wouldn't let her risk her life... nooo don't you weaponize the earlier drawing a line thing, that was about chasing a very vague alien lead to an agent's death, not about investigating ur sister...........

she bursts into skinner's office. and then apologizes for doing so.

(i love this so much. such a tiny detail that tells us a lot about her character. that Need to be good and do the right thing and please those whom she looks up to. ohhhhh)

he asks to speak to her off the record, and it seems at first promising... but he won't help her get in contact with mulder. EVEN after she says please!!!! she is gonna cry!!!!!

skinner's bitching about mulder's actions being a violation of his oath, and she's saying that he saved her life, and he comes back with a "if he wanted or expected you to do the same, he would have told you where he was going"

skinner being a jerk... at this point i began to revoke the point i earlier gave him...

he looks deeply troubled though, and i was like, ohhh, mulder must have promised him to not tell her where he was going... i see into your plans, mulder (<- this is not what happened)

back at mulder's place. scully's searching for clues. there's an x taped to the window again, which must be something he just does sometimes. and there's ominous music.

she falls asleep on his couch, and i swear i actually felt my heart melting at this moment. the way she was curled up. subconsciously trying to hold onto a piece of him. only finding rest where he did. i can't even wax poetic about this because i can't put the words into the right shape. but it is gonna destroy me.

someone is knocking... but who?

DEEP THROAT 2.0?!?!

he tries to act like he just went to the wrong room, but she isn't buying it, following him and demanding to know where he really is

SKINNER IS HERE? GETTING ON THE ELEVATOR????? SKINNER ATTACKING D.T. 2.0??? the girls are fighting!!!!!!!

he makes deep throat 2.0 tell him where mulder is, even when skinner is pinned up and deep throat 2.0 is the one holding the gun, and he said "i've killed men for less", but skinner says that if you kill him, he'll be killing 2 men....... this gag seems to have worked

SKINNER is AT THE DOOR to mulder's place where scully is staying. and he is bleeding from MANY wounds. tells scully where he is without elaborating on the blood pouring from all over. okay skinner. you're real for that. you get that point i was tossing around back. and a bonus one, in fact.

so mulder's out on the ice, and usually him wearing a big jacket would spark joy in my heart. and i won't lie, it does a little. but there is also a LOT of tension going on, so it's very brief. feels wrong to rejoice in the simple pleasures of man in big funny coat when he just had to lose his sister and then learn it wasn't even her.

but he sees some sort of tower and he's going in!!! and a dead guy is spotted.

pause. at this point i am sitting here thinking, man, these episodes are good, definitely among the best i've seen so far. who let these men cook? can we get them back in the kitchen with more regularity?

someone is leading him deeper and deeper into the maze of this... station? sub? and i fear he is being led into a trap. but he finds a very very scared man and having a big man point a gun at him doesn't help with the fear, i'm sure. but is it really a sniveling coward... or the hit man???

and JUST as he almost had me fooled and wondering if mulder was gonna really shoot an innocent guy, BAM! hit man reveal.

mulder keeps asking where his sister is, even while being pummeled by this alien with super strength. and he says "she's alive. can you die now?"

mulder shoots at the alien and he misses the back of his neck, so his toxic blood is filling up the space, and things are not looking good at all. and the alien takes him out and drops him on the ice!!!!!

he's going to break the ice and let him freeze or hit him with the sub as it goes down, both very bad endings........

CUTSCENE TO WHERE WE BEGAN!!!!

scully is bursting in, telling this doctor that he has a virus that can only be slowed by keeping him cold, and he isn't buying it, but just as he tries to get her kicked out of the room, his heart stops, so she intervenes.

and she's calling all the shots- get 100 grams of this and that and a drip of this- and this doctor has had his shift hijacked by a better doctor. he implies that mulder might not make it, and she refuses to hear this out.

and she's.... gently stroking his hair... while this is going down........

and sitting by his bed while he's getting better...

(so are the counts for who has been in a coma now tied? justice is served)

and now she's doing the case conclusion:

"several aspects of this case remain unexplained, suggesting the possibility of paranormal phenomena" <- OHHH??? is this what makes scully a believer? are we gonna see some character changes?

"but i am convinced that to accept such conclusions is to abandon all hope of understanding the scientific events behind them" okay!!! we are getting a deeper look into her philosophy here. yes yes yes give me more. and more i was given:

"many of the things i have seen have challenged my faith and my belief in an ordered universe, but this uncertainty has only strengthened my need to know, to understand, to apply reason, to those things which seem to defy it"

and i love it. i love it so much. seeing how she understands the world, why she knows that there has to be an order to it all, and if it seems there isn't, it's just because she hasn't figured it out yet... and science did allow him to get better... the need to fight a good fight in the way she knows how... yeah... that's lovely...

and she's CRYING at his bedside and holding his arm when he finally opens his eyes. her smile. her gentle "hey". it's so innocent, seeing that he is okay, that he made it through the worst part of getting better.

"thanks for ditching me" aughhhhghhhhh.......

he says he didn't find what he was looking for, but he did find the faith to keep looking. ohhhhh. ohhhhhhh...

the way his faith was gone at the start of season 2, but now it's back, there's something worth fighting for, his sister is out there, there is a world worth figuring out..........

man.

at this point my friend was sending me texts and i was like queen i need a minute. i need a minute. to put these things in order. and honestly i STILL do!

it was an absolutely amazing duo of episodes. i truly loved the writing, seeing them pushed to the brink with each other and with themselves. seeing skinner come into fruition. seeing what motivates them both and how they see the world and how it is entirely different but still driven by hope and faith and a need to learn the truth. and the tenderness of it all. of her sleeping on his couch in his absence, thinking maybe he'll be home soon. of running her fingers through his hair while he was being revived. the fury of being blamed for the loss of his sister, the fury with which she screamed at deep throat 2.0 to tell him where he went off to, the fury of mulder realizing he had been lied to and that his sister had never come back at all. but there still being hope despite it all. because there are things worth searching for. and they can do it together.

man. it was a very good episode but your girl is gonna go watch a silly video because it definitely hit me right in the Feelings!!

[kae-eee]

all my thoughts about apple white i can remember rn because im so unnormal about her

she’s been best friends with dexter forever after, ashlynn and briar are just her main friend group because they’re the most popular fairytale princesses

shes a little envious of dexter who’s allowed to just wear his glasses without an issue

walks into walls and trips on the stairs regularly, she plays it off well

she had the biggest crush on ashlynn when they were like 13, it never fully went away

a little part of why she was so hurt during true hearts day

shes known the charmings her entire life and always took to the twins more than daring

her mother wasn’t happy about that

her favorite color isn’t red

apples make her throat feel fuzzy, what could that mean?

i also think she’s allergic to honey or dairy idk

hella people were scared to tell her who actually woke her up, she didn’t find out till a while later

and she very much faked now being head over heels for daring after she woke up until someone told her

she also thought he was just getting cold feet now that he was avoiding her

wearing her crown so much gives her migraines

and i think it’d be worse for her than other royals because hers is probably bigger

really really easily annoyed

dislikes blondie due to her lack of respect for boundaries, she’s only told raven and dexter this

coldest take but she’s autistic

snow won’t get her tested

queen of masking

does not stfu (yapple white!!)

talks fast as fuck too (yapple white!!!!)

had the biggest fuckin fit when one reflection broke up

i think her and darling were also quite good friends when they were little, but they had different interests and grew apart

im not exactly a dappling shipper, but apple romanticized the hell out of darling once she came to terms with who woke her

also it took her a really, really long time to come to terms with it

super easily annoyed (i cant remember if i already said this)

and her lowest grade is her diplomacy class because of it

shes still acing it though

i think she likes to make jewelry but doesn’t often because it roughs up her hands

like metal jewelry not bracelets made of beads, those wouldn’t mess up her hands

deadliest puppy dog eyes you’ll ever see

noise sensitive

refuses to think about her gender identity and expression because she has a nagging feeling she may bump into something that she’s not ready to unpack

i’d like to think she could hear during her enchanted sleep but then idk how she wouldn’t know daring didn’t wake her

very judgy, trying to unlearn it post way to wonderland

learned it in the first place from her mother

doesn’t text with emojis at all

horrible at replying to messages

hemophilia

broke a bone or two on the way down the well

and those spots ache when it rains

cat person

and she really fucks with orange cats

i wanna say she texts like a grandma

it’s ominous as hell

“hello briar…i’ve seemed i’ve fallen ill…may you inform me on our assignment for princessology… good day..”

the type to remind the teacher of the homework

enjoys to dissect things, but that’s not very princess like is it?

raven snores and apple debates on smothering her every other night

girly needs her beauty sleep

awhile after she’s found out darling woke her up and her destiny may not be as straight cut as she thought, her identity crisis hit her around eleven or twelve at night on a random ass thursday, and raven has to talk down a sobbing screaming apple and get her to go to bed because neither of them are unpacking all that comphet right at that very moment

another cold take but the biggest control freak ever

type of girl to hijack every group project, and come in with her own presentation the day it’s due

a sour over sweet person

but sweet over savory

her mother would’ve dyed her hair if she wasn’t scared that it would get messed up

because blonde hair is better than fried hair

that’s all i’ve got for now, maybe I’ll add to this eventually.

[missameliep]

Amiga, I hope you're doing well ❤️

This writers truth & dare seems so much fun. Can you answers these questions?

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Have a lovely day 😘😘😘

Awww, querida! Thank you so much for your ask 😊😘

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

📱📰😭🤯💋

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

I'll share a few things about the Once Upon a Summer (D&D AU), because I'm obsessed with teen!Liz and teen!Hamid.

Liz and Hamid will be in debating society together, they'll support each other and he'll make things more bearable for Liz in general, like introducing her to his friends and sharing insights about students, teachers and the dynamics in that campus;

Liz and Hamid had met members of each other's families, in the past;

Maria, Liz's mother, is still alive, and they live at Grovershire, that is a village at Edgewater's county;

Hamid loves sweeties and gift-giving, and he offers treats to people he likes;

Hamid's first kiss wasn't with Liz, and he had a girlfriend before they met;

Liz went to the Live8 concert at London (2005) and watched it very close to the stage because her father is friend of sir Paul McCartney and Bono Vox - Hamid doesn't know either of them, but wish he did.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

It was an idea for a future dialogue from Second Chances. It makes little sense as it is now, but it's not hard to know who this is about 😉

"You worry about the future and don't allow yourself to live the present."

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

I have quite a few. There are so many videos and memes that always make me laugh, but lately I'd have to say it's Miette (the cat, the queen, the legend). Miette has become part of my family's inside jokes and we had to spread the knowledge about who Miette is...😅 i realize we are very random people, but we get our share of laughter

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

I've gathered inspiration for dialogues and settings from many movies and TV shows, but maybe Gilmore Girls is one that always inspire me (for the good and the bad), I love the quick dialogues, the pop culture and literary references, and I may or may not have been inspired by a particular dynamics on Once Upon a Summer (Desire & Decorum AU).

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

Pure critism is easier...😅 let me think about the constructive kind...

Thinking about my writing in general, I noticed some of my paragraphs are still too long; sometimes it slows the flow or make things confusing. That's something I should look more carefully during editing, especially when working on academics and original works (though it's haaard to not be so wordy and fill my texts with all the commas etc). Also passive voice, I know it can became an issue to pacing and all that...

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

If the characters are writen OOC it usually bothers me and I've quit reading stories because of that. And if it's done in a way exclusively to enhance another character's narrative and make them look better (especially if it's one of the fave white males in the fandom) I'll definitely click away... Fics that are not properly tagged bug me too, and depending on the content I'll probably click away. Racism, xenophobia and harmful/stereotypical portrayals are also a no for me.

I hope you're well too and am wishing you a lovely day/night, Lori! 😘

__________

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game - send me an ask! 😉

[artificialqueens]

FaceTime Comfort (Biadore) - Whiskey Neat

A/N: It's been a while since I've written but you guys know I couldn't resist an opportunity to write another sickfic. I am a sickfic whore! This is my take on the prompt "Adore is sick and Bianca is on tour. Bianca tries her best to make Adore feel better from across the world." Enjoy!

BRAT ❤️: Can you call me? 

To worry wasn’t Bianca’s first reaction when she checked her phone. She was currently backstage for intermission during tonight’s Unsanitized show in Paris. Bianca assumed her friend’s text meant that she just wanted to chat and catch up since they had both been quite busy lately and hadn’t seen each other in a while. 

But before she could respond to Adore, Bianca was being summoned back onstage. Exiting the dressing room, she made a mental note to call Adore as soon as she got back to the hotel later. 

Bianca didn’t check her phone again until she was in the Uber back to her hotel. A hint of worry began to settle in her chest as she saw she had received another text message from Adore. 

BRAT ❤️: Please 

Sure, the bitch was always persistent but this felt different. A more serious tone laced the second text that she wasn’t used to hearing from Adore. 

Willow: Heading back to the hotel now. Will call as soon as I’m there. Everything okay? 

After receiving no response, Bianca opened Instagram to pass the time. She was liking a few friends’ posts when she scrolled upon a cancellation announcement from a bar in Texas and her heart dropped. 

“Due to personal illness, Adore Delano will not be able to make it to tonight’s show.” 

“Shit.” Bianca thought out loud. Something really was wrong. She debated calling the younger queen right then and there but she was only a few minutes away from the hotel now. As soon as she arrived, Bianca rushed to her room, throwing her bags haphazardly onto the floor before kicking her shoes off and settling on the bed, FaceTiming Adore. 

The call was answered moments later by a dark screen. She heard some shuffling sounds and a small raspy “hi” before the phone was pulled out from underneath what she could now tell was a blanket and Adore’s face came into view.

The younger queen looked exhausted. Dark circles accented her bleary green eyes and her messy bun was disheveled with strands of hair falling down onto her ghostly pale face. 

“Hey, did I wake you?” Bianca asked, after observing the pillow and blanket that her friend was curled up with. 

Adore rubbed her eyes and muttered a barely audible “Mhmm.” 

More concern filled Bianca’s chest after calculating that it was only around 7pm where Adore was and the place she was laying was definitely not her bed. 

“Where are you? Are you okay?” Bianca asked. 

“Bathroom floor.” Adore told her after a few moments, shifting the phone so the older queen could see. “I’m so sick Willow, I don’t know what to do…”

The way Adore’s voice shook made Bianca wish she could reach through the screen, scoop her friend up, and hold her until she felt better again. 

“I’m sorry baby, what’s going on?” Bianca asked, sympathetically. 

“Woke up in the middle of the night feeling like shit. Started throwing up and haven’t stopped since…fucking food poisoning.” She cursed. 

“Are you staying hydrated?” Bianca inquired. 

“Been drinking water…this is the longest it’s stayed down since this shit started.” Adore sighed. 

“That’s good at least….you’re probably through the worst of it.” Bianca assured through the phone. 

“I guess.” Adore muttered, wincing as a cramp made its way through her abdomen. “I just hate feeling like this.” She sniffled, eyes filling with tears. “I can’t do anything. I had to cancel my show and I feel so useless!” Adore paused, taking a shaky breath, “I wish you were here…I miss you.” 

“I miss you too…I’ll be home soon.” Bianca reassured, “but for now, what can I do to help you feel better?” 

Adore thought for a moment before requesting, “Just talk to me? About anything. I need a distraction.” 

And that’s exactly what Bianca did. She filled Adore in on all the excitement of tour, telling her about all the cool places she’d visited, people she’d met along the way, and throwing in a few memories of the times the two of them had visited some of those same places together. Adore’s responses were growing less and less coherent as the conversation went on and her eyelids grew heavier. Just when Bianca thought her friend had fallen asleep, Adore cut her off with a miserable sounding groan.  

“It’s happening again…” Adore moaned, feeling that familiar tightening in her throat as the nausea crept up for the umpteenth time that day. 

“Okay, it’s okay. Sit up baby.” Bianca gently directed, immediately forgetting about the story she had been telling. 

With shaky limbs, Adore pulled herself up into a sitting position in front of the toilet, bracing herself for what was to come while Bianca muttered words of comfort into the phone. 

Her stomach did a dangerous flip. “Don’t listen.” She told Bianca, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Queen…do you not remember how many times we’ve been drunk together? I’ve seen you vomit before.” Bianca remarked.

“I wasn’t dying then.” Adore argued. 

“That’s not what you said at the time.” Bianca teased, receiving a weak scowl from the sick queen before continuing, “you do know that you can mute yourself, right?” 

“Biancaaa” Adore whined, almost pleading. She pushed her phone to the side so the older queen could no longer see her. 

“Alright! Alright…” Bianca picked up her phone, “I’m turning my volume down. Signal when you want me to listen again.”

While Adore did her thing, Bianca rolled onto her side, quietly chuckling at how dramatic her friend could be. “And now we wait.” She thought, glancing at the clock. It was after midnight and she was beyond tired. But as long as Adore needed her, she would stay awake. 

About 5 minutes later, Adore’s face reappeared on the screen, cheeks red and tear streaked.

“You survived?” Bianca quipped, turning her volume back up. 

“Barely.” Adore rasped, wiping a hand over her face. 

Adore wrapped the blanket around her shaking body and laid back down. “I just wanna sleep till this bullshit is over.” She huffed, burying her face into the pillow. 

“Then sleep, Pussyface. I’ll stay on the phone and you can end the call when you wake up.” Bianca offered. 

“M’kay.” Adore agreed, eyelids growing heavy once again. “Sorry for keeping you up.” 

“It’s okay…I’ll sleep in tomorrow.” Bianca told her. 

Adore scoffed weakly. Bianca Del Rio never slept in and they both knew it. 

“Talk till I fall asleep?” Adore requested. 

“You’re not sick of me running my mouth yet?” Bianca joked. 

“Never.” Adore answered, lips twisting up in the tiniest hint of a smile as her eyes fell closed. 

As requested, Bianca picked up where she left off on her story telling. Midway through the first story though, she heard soft snores coming through the phone. Grateful to see that the sick queen had finally fallen into a peaceful sleep, Bianca soon followed suit after plugging in her phone and making sure her volume was turned all the way up in case Adore needed to wake her during the night. 

The next morning Adore awoke to two surprises. One being how much better she felt, and the other being the sight of Bianca still asleep on the other end of the FaceTime call. 

“So she is capable of sleeping in!” Adore thought, smiling fondly at the other queen’s sleeping form. 

After wandering to the kitchen and making herself some soup, Adore settled on the couch to spend the day watching movies. Bianca may have still been asleep but Adore could internally hear the older queen scolding her if she did anything but take it easy until she recovers fully. After choosing the first movie of the day, Adore ended the FaceTime call, sending a few texts to Bianca. 

BRAT ❤️: Hey sleeping beauty!

BRAT ❤️: I slept for 12 hours and I feel SO much better!! You must really be getting old seeing as you did the same ��� 

BRAT ❤️: Seriously though, thank you for taking care of me last night. I love you the most! 

  BRAT ❤️: And don’t worry…I’m taking it easy today. Nothing but water and soup and movies that you’d hate! Sleep well Willow 💕

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

[woodrokiro]

Do It For the Band, Part Five (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki: 

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, Three, and Four.

Against her better judgement, Tatsuki takes an early flight home the next morning, so she really doesn’t know what went down. 

Frankly, between battling her colossal hangover and focusing on not puking on the plane when it hits turbulence: she doesn’t even think about it until later in the week. 

Since the tour ended, the band has a week off to just chill and take some time for themselves before regrouping and planning their next move. Tatsuki goes straight home to smoke weed and binge dumb movies on her to-watch queue. Chad and Orihime had plans to stay in their last tour city for a while since they had friends and family there. 

And as for Ichigo and Rukia…

Who knows. They’re both such dorks that they’re probably that gross couple who serenade each other in bed, naked, making weird metaphorical lyrics about the sex they just had.

Gross. But kind of sweet.

She makes a point to not think about or reach out to any of them (besides Orihime, of course) the entire week - not that she doesn’t love her team fiercely, but they all need the break away from each other... Especially after they spent all their time together making the album and going on tour, and especially if Ichigo decides to show one of his new Rukia-love ballads to the band upon their return. 

Still, she attempts to check in with Ichigo on the fifth day over text. 

How ya doin’, tiger?

He doesn’t respond for a few hours, but she doesn’t think much of it. He’s always been sort of a shitty texter, and there’s a strong chance all the raucous love-making isn’t reminding him to check his phone. 

She’s on the fourth episode of Terrace House’ newest season, debating whether one of the cast members is a chaotic queen or absolute garbage when she hears the familiar ping of a text message on her phone. She picks it up and reads:

Fine.

Huh. 

Not exactly the sunshine-y answer she expected, but then again: it’s Ichigo. He’s not exactly a sunshine-y person, even when - apparently - he’s radiantly happy. 

She shrugs, deciding not to push it. She’ll find out soon enough how everything’s going when they have practice in a couple days. 

--

Practice is in Chad’s garage, and Ichigo, Chad, and Orihime are already there.

She mostly chats with Orihime, who has so much to update her on about her newest recipes, like natto ice cream and sriracha orange juice, and hey, Tatsuki, what are your thoughts on this newest article I found about robots dominating the planet within the next five years?

Tatsuki glows in the babble, chuckling when she can’t help herself. Says the first sounds… Interesting, the second sounds like maybe she can keep revising it a little, and that last article sounds like it might be from a not so trust-worthy news source. 

Her friend tries to argue the source’s credibility when she looks over at Ichigo. He’s silently tuning his guitar, head bent and posture weirdly… Slumped when she catches his eye.

She raises her eyebrows at him without interrupting Orihime’s chatter. You good?

He shrugs, gives a weak smile and thumbs up before returning his attention back to his instrument.

Uh oh. 

Ichigo Kurosaki does not do weak smiles… Or thumbs ups, for that matter.

It’s another few minutes before Rukia swings the door open, a bit of a sweaty mess and running out of breath. 

“Hi all, I’m so sorry I--”

“You’re late.”

Everyone swings their attention to Ichigo, who observes their keyboardist stone-faced. The shocked silence that follows is short, but suffocating. 

Rukia flushes before she blinks, raising her chin. “Yes. As I was saying… I’m sorry I’m running late, everyone. I had a lunch meetup with an old friend that went longer than expected. Please forgive me.”

“Chill, Rukia - you’re fine. You’re only five minutes over.” Tatsuki shoots a look at Ichigo, who’s still ruthlessly eye-ing daggers into Rukia. 

What the hell…? 

“... Whatever. Let’s just get started. Go over everything to catch back up to speed, and all that.” Ichigo plugs his guitar into the speaker, and Rukia nods as she quickly sets up her keyboard. 

Practice from there is…

Like. It’s good. It is. Despite the long break, everyone is still on top of their shit: Tatsuki’s beats are muscle memory by now, and Chad is as on it as he ever was. Ichigo and Rukia are in perfect sync, per usual.

The energy, however, is another story. While there was always some sort of joy and excitement when they all played together, now it’s like the air is stiff, heavy. From behind, Tatsuki can see Rukia keeps trying to look at Ichigo during all the parts they usually harmonize together, to get some sort of connection. 

Ichigo doesn’t even remotely glance her way the entire time. 

They’re near done with the entire set when Ichigo clears his throat, turning to the rest of them. Urahara has joined them by this point, watching with an unreadable smile as ever.  

��So… I think we should scrap Sun and Moon from our main set.”

Orihime lets out a soft gasp. Chad’s fingers accidentally let loose a note on the live bass. Tatsuki chokes on her spit. 

“Sun and Moon? You mean our crowd pleaser? The one we always end shows with a bang on?”

“It’s not our only crowd pleaser, we’ve also got some other great ones. I’m just afraid it’s gonna be a one-hit wonder, ya know? And with that note…” He turns to Urahara. “What do you think about us going ahead and starting to write for our sophomore album?”

They gape at him. 

Even Urahara raises his eyebrows. “That’s… Well. That was fast.”

“Is it? Our album is more like EP, anyway - just a little longer. Like a warm-up. And it’s good, of course I’m proud of it - everyone worked so hard on it - but, just… Why not start now? Why not take advantage of the momentum we’ve got going on?”

Rukia clears her throat. “Ichigo, that’s… We’ve got such a good grip on what we have -”

“I just think Soul Vibes is static for us. Outdated.” He quickly looks back at her before returning his attention to Urahara.

 Rukia looks like she’s been slapped. 

“I think we’re more dynamic now, even just in these few short months. And yeah it’s fast, but - we have time, right? To get started on writing?”

“I suppose so.” Urahara looks at Tatsuki and Chad, who both shrug. Something’s really off here, but Tatsuki sort of sees his point. It’s clear Ichigo’s raring to write something new… Why not? 

“Sure, if you’d like, I can make some arrangements with the music studio. You and Rukia can go in there and--”

“Actually, I was thinking we can work on some stuff alone before presenting it to the group.” He stops Tatsuki when she begins to sputter.  “Look, I know the whole reason for pairing Rukia and I for songwriting was to get us working as a team. But we’re fine now…”

Ichigo looks back at Rukia, and they share a look that’s so… Tatsuki doesn’t know what it is, but she sees Rukia swallow heavily in response.

“We’re fine now.” He repeats grittily. He starts again, stronger: “We collaborated on some cool shit, now I think it’s time to make it a little more diverse like I mentioned earlier. Have my songs, have her songs, have Chad’s songs if he still wants - all threaded together with Tatsuki’s beats. Why not?”

The room is quiet as they contemplate it. It’s not a bad idea, but…

Tatsuki glances over at Rukia, who’s looking down at her hands.

Urahara clicks his tongue. 

“Well, Kurosaki, you raise a good argument. I don’t see why not, and I’m not hearing any objections… Just one thing: you’re not striking Sun and Moon quite yet. No arguments! Hear me out.” He stops Ichigo with a hand. “You’re not striking it until any of you come up with a song just as good, if not better. There’s power in that one, you can’t deny it. Make something as rock n’ roll as that and the team will talk. Let’s just… Keep each other in the know, all right?” 

The band - Rukia included, albeit softly - agrees, and they start to pack up. 

Tatsuki doesn’t know what’s going on; she’s always down for making more jams, she knows Ichigo and Rukia have got more up their sleeves, that Chad definitely deserves to put more of his stuff forward - but that… Look the two vocalists shared…

What happened that night after she left the bar? 

She doesn’t have much time to wonder, however, because suddenly she’s shaken out of her thoughts when she hears Ichigo approaching Orihime about whether she wants to go out and get a couple of drinks. 

Tatsuki’s heart is too busy falling to see Rukia’s stricken face.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Ok, so I remember Dragon coming up with a Chloe DP au, and for some reason that combined in my head with your post about Vlad and the rich kids and the S4 spoilers so... imagine Chloe at Vlad’s party during a ghost attack, feeling depressed and useless and generally just thinking about being replaced. somehow she ends up in Vlad’s lair, self reflecting in front of the portal when it gets hit by a power surge. Most of the class just sees her being carried out to the ambulance, but 2 know better

Me: “I need to work on all my other fics.”

Also me: “Time to work on several pages of Chloé half dying!!! And another bootleg version of one of Dragon’s AUs!”

Vlad and Danny are on kinda friendly terms in this mostly because I wanted to write them snarking at each other. 

Chloé was glad to get out of Paris for a while. A decision her father had made after, well. Certain incidents. Making her feel unsafe in Paris. So she was sent away to a place without Hawkmoth or Akumas.

Smoothing out the skirt of her pale yellow, nearly white, dress, she contemplated the place she ended up.

She would have been prepared for New York. But of course Audrey said she was too "Unexceptional" yet. But as Audrey had to go on a business trip to meet other rich business people at some fancy party, Chloé's dad convinced her to take her to this place. 

Not that business parties full of other rich people were something she really wanted to deal with. They were usually too condescending at best. A few of them could be creepy. Giving her looks that made her want to take a shower for a year. 

It was almost enough to make her want to stay in Paris. But the one thing that made her decide it wouldn't be too bad was who was hosting the party. 

Don't get her wrong. Vlad Masters definitely gave off some strange and downright intimidating vibes. But the few times Chloé had met him at events like this, he was one of the few adults who seemed to respect her, despite her age. And he only used his threatening vibes on any of the other men looking at her. 

That said, Chloé wasn't expecting much conversation with Vlad. They didn't usually talk much anyway, just polite conversation common at these things. And as Audrey was currently attempting to engage with him, almost as if she were blocking Chloé from getting near, it was unlikely she would.

"If you're going to commit a murder could you wait another twenty minutes? I have a bet going."

Chloé jumped, realizing someone was speaking to her. When she found who, her initial instinct was to glare. Blue eyes and black hair making her think of someone else. 

However, as she took in the rest of the context, she found someone new. And male. A boy about her age. 

"Who are you?" Chloé asked. 

"Head of security," the boy said. 

It was obviously a joke, from his tone and lopsided grin. And Chloé almost laughed at the idea of a teenager being any kind of security. 

But she noticed the way he stood, the way he analyzed her. It reminded her of Adrien, in a way. Seemingly all smiles and laid back, but far more capable than he looks. 

There was something else about him too. It actually reminded her of Vlad. The general vibes he gave off. But Vlad felt more… firey. Heat under his skin, waiting for the temper to snap. This boy felt more cold. Not emotionally, but like a snowfall that could quickly engulf you in a blizzard. 

"I think a name would be better," Chloé said. 

"Call me Danny then," the boy said, offering a hand. 

"Chloé Bourgeois," she replied, politely taking it. "So, judging by the fact that you didn't give me your last name, you don't want me guessing who you're connected to."

"You probably wouldn't know them," he said. "My family's known for their studies on the paranormal. They're scientists. And not really the kind for this kind of party."

"But you are?" She raised an eyebrow. 

"Absolutely not," he said. "But hey. Vlad's trying to buy his way to an apology by giving me money if I hang out and make sure nothing spooks the guests. Other than him, of course. Might as well put it in my college fund. So, you actually planning a murder or not?"

That almost made her laugh. A small smile on her face, Chloé's gaze drifted across the room to her mother. 

"No murder yet," Chloé said. "If I do kill someone, it'll be the local supervillain back in Paris."

"Heard something about that," Danny said. "My parents keep debating on checking it out. It's obviously paranormal and magical, but they specialize in Ghosts."

"Are they the Ghostbusters?" She did actually laugh at that one. 

"Something like that," he chuckled. 

All of a sudden, Danny stiffened up. It had to be a trick of the light, but she could've sworn a mist came out of his mouth. He frowned, looking around carefully. 

"Sorry, I have to go," Danny said. "A disturbance in the garden. See you around."

"Yeah, see you," Chloé sighed. 

As he ran off through the crowd, Chloé wondered how he knew about the "disturbance". Maybe he was actually part of the security team and had an earpiece in? 

Brushing the thought off, Chloé grabbed a drink from a passing waiter. Then she headed the opposite direction.

She wanted some time alone. It had been nice, talking to Danny. But the party was still overwhelming. She might be out of Paris, which meant less stares and whispers. But still too much interaction for her liking lately. 

Chloé headed out of the main ballroom. Few paid attention to her. Those that did were quickly dragged back to their conversations. 

As she wandered the halls, Chloé wondered if she could get lost in here. If her mother would notice. Maybe she could just. Not go home and just secretly live in Vlad's mansion. 

A tempting idea, if she could figure out how to do it. But for now, she settled for exploring. 

There was a library. Very nice. Bookshelves along every wall, except for a spot for a fireplace. Comfortable chairs and a couch to read on. 

She looked through the bookshelves. It seemed well stocked, despite the impossibility of ever reading them all. Most were nonfiction, texts on various subjects. A few seemed to be typical fiction, though Chloé didn't inspect those too close lest she judge Vlad's collection of trashy romance novels. 

What intrigued her was one large shelf, right across from the fireplace. These books actually looked well-used. Texts on the paranormal. Hadn't Danny said something about that? Between this and the familiarity with Vlad, perhaps it was a family-friend situation.

Dragging a finger along the spines of the books, she picked one at random. Pure curiosity more than actual interest. 

The book was soon dropped and forgotten when the shelf slid open to reveal a doorway. 

Now that had her curious and interested. 

A look over her shoulder at the door, and Chloé was in the new room. No, a new hall of stairs. Descending down stone steps. 

She was suddenly worried she would find some sort of kinky dungeon type place. Perhaps she should quit while she was ahead. 

It was the buzzing in her fingertips that made the decision for her. Something… familiar. 

It wasn't like the buzzing she felt near an Akuma, or near someone using a Miraculous. No, this felt more like Vlad. Like Danny. Whatever she was feeling from them, there was more of it down here. 

Eventually the stairway opened to a room. It looked like a laboratory of some kind. Weapons and tools of shiny metal and magenta accents lined the walls. There were a few that traded magenta for green, but not as if two people consistently shared a space. More like one occasionally left objects behind. 

The one thing in the room that was overwhelmingly green and not magenta was against one wall. 

It almost looked like a doorway of sorts. Or a Magic Portal, really. Swirls of green that she couldn't see into. And if she hadn't spent the last year and a half being attacked by Magical Supervillains and becoming a Hero herself, she would've assumed it was just a large tv screen embedded in the wall for aesthetics. 

The reminder of her time as a Hero brought back some bitter memories. 

She might not have been the best person, but she was a good Hero. Chloé would have gladly continued being Queen Bee, despite the risks, because she had felt like she finally found a purpose. But Ladybug told her no, she couldn't have the Miraculous anymore. For her safety of course. 

What a joke. Not only had Chloé been in more danger without it, as there was no way she could defend herself against Hawkmoth. But the other Heroes were still active, even with their identities known. 

With a sigh, Chloé attempted to distract herself. Walking around the room and investigating the weapons around the lab. They were strange. She wasn't a gun expert, but these didn't look normal. Not regular guns that shoot bullets. 

Were they alien weaponry? That didn't seem right. Chloé wasn't an expert, having never met an alien(as far as she was aware). But the weapons seemed very based on Earth designs, their sizes intended for average Human use. Maybe weapons for Humans to use on nonhumam creatures. 

Whatever it was, Chloé was now a bit curious. What did Vlad get up to when he wasn't hosting business parties like this? Did he perhaps moonlight as a superhero? With that Danny kid as the Robin to his Batman? Perhaps she should stay. Be the Jason Todd of the family. Though with less dying.

She almost laughed at the idea. But as a crack of thunder rang through the mansion, loud enough to be heard from this basement laboratory, she jumped, instinctively spinning around to look for an attack.

A second crack of thunder, and all the lights went dark.

Chloé was not afraid of the dark. She never had been, even as a child. 

But she was afraid now. Because this wasn't a normal blackout. In a mansion like this, there would be emergency generators. They didn't kick in, which meant this was likely something else. 

Amity Park was different from Paris. No Hawkmoth. No Akumas. But that didn't mean there was no danger. 

And the thing Chloé had become afraid of, after so many Akuma attacks and even Hawkmoth himself coming to her home, her room, and confronting her. The thing she was afraid of was being unable to fight back. 

Her breath began to quicken, the only noise she could hear in the dark room. Heart hammering in her chest, Chloé tried to calm herself down. This wasn't Paris. Whoever or whatever it was wasn't after her. 

But what if it was? What if this person had decided she would make a good target? What if Hawkmoth had followed her, hoping to get revenge for failing him as Miracle Queen? What if it was someone else, furious about what she had involuntarily done, knowing that if something happened here, Ladybug's Miraculous Cure would be too late?

Hands trembling, Chloé remembered the weapons on the wall. It wasn't her Miraculous, but it was something. She refused to go down without a fight. 

The only problem was that, in her panic, she had gotten turned around she couldn't remember which was she was facing. 

Blindly choosing a direction, Chloé kept a hand out in front of her, slowly moving it back and forth hoping she'd hit a wall. Her ragged breathing and the click of her heels on the floor being the only sounds. A good sign, she hoped. 

Her hand hit something. A wall, she thought. Somewhere to her left. Keeping her hand flat against it, she hoped to follow it until she found the weapon rack again. 

She kept walking, barely noting how the sound of her footsteps changed from heels-on-tile to heels-on-metal. Had the floor been metal? She couldn't remember. The stairs up had been stone so obviously she was still in the lab. 

The lights suddenly came back on, the blackout over. Yet Chloé wasn't nearly as blinded as she should have been by the sudden brightness. It was coming from behind her. Had she somehow found a different hallway out of the lab?

As she turned to head back to something familiar, a different brightness flickered on. But she was completely unaware, as all she could focus on was pain. 

Burning, crackling under her skin. Through every inch of her. Worse than anything she had ever felt, as Civilian, Hero, or Akuma. 

The pain began to subside. Not going away, but no longer the intense agony. Just an ache, but as if she had run a marathon around Paris without being transformed. Her throat still burned the worst though. Had she been screaming? She couldn't remember doing so, but it seemed likely given the pain.

Stumbling forward, she managed to find herself back in the lab. Yet her vision was blurry. So blurry, in fact, that when she looked down her white dress appeared black. 

The pain and exhaustion was too much for her. Pitching forward, everything went dark again.

--------

The next thing Chloé knew, she was somewhere soft. Everything still hurt, which made her not want to move. But she could hear two male voices arguing. 

"You should let me explain it to her."

"You will confuse and scare her with your morbid humor."

"And you'll just freak her out!"

"I have more experience in this."

"Not in explaining it!"

"I explained it to Danielle."

"And I explained it to everyone else because you had to be a fruitloop!"

"Are you still using that insult?"

"It still fits."

Registering that she should probably see what's goin on, Chloé went to get up. 

Her right arm must've slipped off whatever she was laying on, as she almost immediately slammed back down. The feeling that had her jolting upright instead of trying again to be slow, was that it felt like something hit the inside of her arm?!

Inspecting the limb, she didn't find anything wrong with it. It was there. No burns or bruises. The worst thing was a chipped manicure. 

As her gaze went further up her arm to her shoulder, she noticed something. A discoloration in her skin. It was hard to see, having to look nearly straight down and only being able to see what skin was showing. But there were thin lines across her shoulders and chest. She couldn't tell how far they went up her neck, or how much further they extended under her dress. 

The lines looked almost like lightning. It was then that she remembered the lab. The pain. But she swallowed down her fear.

"Well say goodbye to swimsuit season," Chloé muttered, her voice still a little shaky and her throat still raw. 

"Perhaps your humor will be helpful after all," one of the voices from earlier mused. 

Chloé jumped, having completely forgot that there were people in the room. One was Vlad, the other was the "head of security" kid. Danny, wasn't it? 

"What happened?" Chloé asked.

"You received quite a shock," Vlad replied. 

"Oh, and my humor is too much for her," Danny glared.

"Kind of used to puns in horrifying situations," Chloé said. "One of my best friends loves making puns to deflect dealing with things."

And okay yes she also did that. But she was not going to tell them that. Even if the looks they gave each other probably meant they guessed as much. 

"Where am I?" Chloé asked, looking around. 

"One of the guest rooms," Vlad explained. 

"Not a hospital?" She asked. 

"A hospital isn't quite equipped to handle… this," he said. 

"One of the guests was a doctor who did a general checkup," Danny said. "She was sure you probably just fainted from low blood sugar or something."

"And… and my mother?" Chloé asked. 

"She is back at her hotel," Vlad said, visibly bristling. "I may not be father of the year, but her lack of concern is appalling."

The exasperated look Danny gave him said there was a long story there. Chloé wasn't sure she wanted to hear it right now.

"So why would a hospital be bad?" Chloé asked instead. 

"That is quite a story," Vlad said. "Do you know what you were messing with in the laboratory?"

"I know it had weapons," she said. "Then the lights went out and I tried to find my way around."

"I think that makes her smarter than both of us," Danny said.

"I didn't enter an unstable device on a dare," Vlad glared. “I knew what I was doing.”

"You stuck your face right up to a prototype device not knowing if it was stable or not," he retorted. "You're lucky you only half died.".

Vlad glared at him again. Chloé could have sworn he man's eyes flashed red. It was more than just a trick of the light. 

He said a hospital wasn't a good situation for her now. He implied that he'd had something similar happen to him. And those books on the paranormal, leading to a lab… 

Vlad wasn't Human. At least not anymore. Danny wasn't either, most likely. And Chloé realized, with mounting horror, that she probably wasn't either.

Once more she focused on her hands. What… was she now? Chloé flipped through her knowledge of the paranormal. It couldn't be a Vampire or Werewolf. She didn't get bit or infected with anything. Most other creatures she could remember Humans becoming had very specific circumstances or longer processes. 

Then, she recalled something Danny had said. His family deals with Ghosts. 

As if to confirm her suspicions, her hands flickered out of existence. An involuntary whimper escaping her throat. 

"I… I'm dead, aren't I?" Chloé asked. 

"Only half way," Danny said. 

"That is nowhere as reassuring as you think it is," Vlad said. 

This time it was Danny's turn to glare. But his eyes flashed a green color instead of red. 

Meanwhile, Chloé was having a crisis. She died. She fucking died. But she was still here. 

She was vaguely aware of their voices. Both males had come closer, sitting beside her on the bed. She knew one, or maybe both of them, was telling her to breathe. To focus. 

She tried to focus on how strange it was, sitting between them. One burning, one freezing. Was that related to… This? 

It helped ground her. Remind her that she wasn't alone. 

"That's right," Danny said. "You're not alone in this. Which is already better than what we got."

"You could have had a mentor," Vlad said. 

"But you were still evil back then," he smirked.

Oh boy oh boy. This was going to get oh so complicated. 

[tsumuniri]

━━━ Atsumu Miya is a free-loader. Living inside his twin brother's home as if it was his, he would bring home girls and annoy Osamu most of the time. Y/N L/N is quite the opposite apparently because she's a virgin loser. Being the popular anonymous BL mangaka known as Yamazaki, she stays in the homey abode of her parents and watches boys from afar for references (not for admiration sadly).

Now what will happen if fate decided to tie these two idiots together and made them live across each other in one apartment?

。m.list ❯❯ prev┃next

TWO ━━ THE GIRL NEIGHBOR

THE FORTUNE OF GETTING EVERYTHING Atsumu desired had always blessed his luck in his twenty-three years of living on this habitable planet— may it be in his talents for the ball sport or even outside his athletic career. This man surely knew what it means to be spoiled by the gods as they loomed over his being and guided him through the prosperity of his lifetime. He was a guy who could attain his dreams by any means necessary.

So, here he is, debating on which detergent he should buy because he had finally moved into the apartment his brother recommended.

He hasn't settled in at the moment. The room he rented was still a mess of cardboard boxes full of his things piling up on top of each other. It was a new environment for the male as he had always stuck to Osamu throughout his life; they were partners in crime after all.

That was when he decided what was his current goal at the moment; to survive a week of living alone without asking for his brother's help. Hence, the reason why he's here in the cleaning aisle of the grocery close by, having difficulty in choosing if he should use powder or liquid detergents.

"Are you stupid or something?" An irritated voice spoke up from behind the setter's crouching figure. Atsumu sneaked a glance over his shoulder and lazily grinned at his teammate and friend. "Great timing, Omi-kun!" He chirped, standing up from his last position before turning around to face the ravenette.

Sakusa rolled his eyes, "For your information, buying cleaning products isn't the only thing I do. I just like my place and myself to be tidy. Can we also quicken up the pace, please?" He spoke out his thoughts as he got one of the liquid detergents set on the shelves, carefully placing it inside the grocery basket.

"Didn't know you'll get offended by my texts. I was only joking about that time you bought that many cleaning products," The blonde shrugged his shoulders casually, "It was a funny sight. You really looked like a janitor that time." He snickered at the memory of the other with the bags full of cleaning supplies.

Sakusa clicked his tongue and took a step past Atsumu, "I don't usually buy that many supplies. Half of those were for Bokuto-san and Hinata-san," He held the two metal handles of the grocery basket, hoisting the holder up as he let it hang by the side of his thigh. "Speaking of those two, they already texted me that they've finally arrived at your new apartment in Morinomiya. They mentioned your brother also dropped by with some onigiri." He notified the other male.

Atsumu grumbled from his teammate's words as he followed Sakusa's trail towards the snacks aisle. "Ya mean the same brother who decided to betray me?" He mumbled, his expression seeming like a child who just got grounded by their parents for a whole week.

"And yet, you still visit his Onigiri place in the city. You love him, don't be sissy about it. You got kicked out because you were too complacent, and unlike during your high school days, you realized that your brother wouldn't be there for you all the time."

The blonde stayed silent, most likely agreeing with the ravenette's statement. Although the two brothers argued for a while after Osamu announced the unfortunate news about his twin's boot out of the household, Atsumu knew that it was the best for both of them as it was time for him to get an apartment (even if he sort of dislikes the idea of moving).

Despite him understanding this, it wouldn't hurt to be a drama queen for once.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." Atsumu mouthed as he motioned his hand in upward movements, walking over to the cashier register to check out their groceries. A frown etched on Sakusa's face from under his white face mask, not a slight bit amused by the latter's laid-back composure. He adjusted his grip on the basket's handle then followed behind to the location of the check-out counter.

The cashier, who looked as if she was currently in high school, kept on stealing glances between the blonde male and the cleaning supplies she was checking out. With lips pursed from her thoughts, her eyes slightly squinted every time it landed on Atsumu.

'What is this girl's problem?' He thought, raising his brows at the girl's serious expression. He cleared his throat and let his eyes wandered around the vicinity to distract himself from the cashier's peeks.

After the uncanny interaction with the young cashier, the two volleyball players made their way to the newly-built apartment building that the blonde-haired setter is now residing. From what the raven-haired outside hitter mentioned before, their two other teammates had already ordered two boxes of pizza and couldn't help but devour its cheesy goodness once it arrives. Atsumu quickened his pace from the newly-given information as he wouldn't like to meet the sight of two empty pizza boxes in his apartment.

"Tsumu-Tsum! Great timing. The pizzas are here!" Bokuto cheered after seeing his two comrades walked in from the front door. His eyes lit up while his mouth formed into a wide smile— almost looking like he won the jackpot of a million yen (not like he needs it anyway since he earns more than that).

A certain tangerine-haired male was already munching a slice beside him, "Omir-shan, Arsurmu-shan," Hinata said, mouth full of pizza dough and toppings. He then chewed the last bit of bread and swallowed the piece down his throat, "Welcome back! I like the new place, by the way, Atsumu-san!" He ended his statement, taking another slice from the pizza box.

Sakusa cringed from the mess on the table and how their two reckless teammates ate the freshly-oven baked slices. He lowered the grocery bag he was carrying on one of the moving boxes beside him as Atsumu followed suit. "Did you guys even washed your hands before eating?" The masked male straightly asked as he sat down on the carpeted floor.

"Don't worry. We did! Bokuto-san even brought the hand sanitizer that Akaashi-san bought for him." Hinata replied, scooching over to the side as he gestured Atsumu with a nod of his head.

Atsumu walked over to his side of the table, taking the spot the short male had spared for him. The blonde then lifted the closed pizza box with his right hand and almost gagged at the chosen toppings, "You guys ordered two Hawaiians? That's sickening." Atsumu stuck his tongue out in disgust and lowered the box's paper lid, deciding to get one of his brother's onigiris instead.

"I'm the one who invited you all here to celebrate my new home, and yet, you guys wanted to be douchebags by ordering my least favorite flavor of pizza."

"You're the only person here who doesn't like pineapples on a pizza, Atsumu-san." Sakusa pointed out, moving the face mask under his chin with his index finger then taking a bite on his slice of the Hawaiin pizza. "Besides, it's three-to-one. You wouldn't win at all." He added, to which the other two avid pineapple lovers agreed with hums of satisfaction.

A thought suddenly popped in Bokuto's mind as he licked the tomato sauce off the tip of his fingers. "Oh yeah! I met a cute girl while I was waiting for Hinata outside your apartment. She also moved in just a few days ago, and guess what? She's living in the room across from you!" He stated out of the blue and laughed lightly at how it was such a coincidence.

This statement caught the attention of the other three, mainly the blonde-headed volleyball player.

"Maybe you could give your new neighbor some onigiri, Atsumu! Like a welcome gift!" Hinata grinned widely, his tone having a trace of excitement as he began eating another slice of the Hawaiian pizza.

Atsumu casually shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe..." He trailed off before taking a bite off the seaweed-rice snack.

The horologe of time had passed by quickly as the blazing sun settled down for the glowing moon to shun upon the busy streets of Osaka, the twinkling stars glittering the night sky with constellations and patches of galaxies from a distance. The simple gathering ended and left the room in peaceful silence. However, Atsumu was still sitting on the floor, his legs overlapping each other as his arms crossed against his built chest.

"Should I?"

He thought out loud as his eyes stare at the box of left-over onigiri. The blonde heaved out a breath through his nostrils before he stood up from his position, patting the dust particles off his bottom. He reached over the box, not bothering to transfer the contents in another container since it would've taken another set of minutes in trying to search for one.

"Here we go." Atsumu swung the door open and immediately noticed the door from across was slightly opened. No light was emitting from the inside. It triggered the male's intuition to check the situation of his neighbor as the scenario of a burglar robbing a harmless female concerned him greatly.

With a slight push of his hand, the door eerily creaked like it was a prop in a horror movie set-up. His eyes tried to look into the dark apartment. But unfortunately, the moving packages were stacked in every spot of the apartment, making it difficult for his peripheral vision to catch anything suspicious of some kind. "Hello?" He called out and didn't get any answer.

'I swear to the gods... If I'm getting killed by a serial killer.'

It's his fault for watching those horror movies in the past. If he hadn't watched that one texas killer with the chainsaw, he wouldn't have gotten scared at all. Atsumu's heart thumped loudly against his ribcage from the anxiety of having to roam around this creepy apartment.

A groan echoed off the walls, stopping the male from his tracks as his body froze like a statue. His throat went dry while his palms started to sweat when he felt an unknown presence creeping up behind him. He closed his eyes shut and quickly spun around to greet the unknown person with a power punch, "Get the fuck away, demon!" Atsumu screeched, still holding onto the box of onigiri safely in the other hand.

"Ouch! Why the heck did you do that for?"

Atsumu peeked his eye open and found you sprawled on the wooden floor, hissing in pain as you caressed your bruised cheek. You were wearing your pajamas as it seemed like you had just woken up from your slumber.

Oops. It's a false alarm, after all.

## it’s gonna get good boiz

## taglist: @underratedmage ; @haikyuuwifu (if you guys wanna be added in the taglist, please comment down! :>)

[hsmtmts-fangir1]

Trust (EJ Caswell Xx Reader)

Masterlist /

Request hii! can i request 5 and 36 with ej pls?

“I’m sorry I’m an idiot, okay?!”  &  “I can’t do anything right.”

When EJ started dating Y/N, he was very careful about not messing anything up as he did with Nini. He was very honest with Y/N when it comes to his feelings. Everything that went through his head, he will tell Y/N. She didn’t mind, she thought that it was cute and amazing how hard EJ was working on their relationship. She let him confess anything he wanted to her.

“Hey Y/N” Y/N heard one of her friends come up to her. “Hey Ernie” Y/N turned around seeing Ernie walk up to her. “Did you get notes from Mr.Carroll? I was really blanking out during his notes for the project we’re supposed to do.” He asked. “I don’t but you can ask Mark, you know that he’s a little goodie two shoes.” Y/N answer getting her books from her locker. “I can’t, he didn’t come today, he had something for the debate club.” He replied sighed leaning on the lockers next to Y/N. “I’m sure that somebody in the class should have it. Why don’t you ask Iztel?” Y/N suggests closing her locker. “Can you do it? She has a crush on me and she will want me to do something for her like kiss her or hug her or something. Remember what she asked for last Christmas. Mark had to kiss her cheek. “ He shutters at the memory popping in his head. “Mark got paid for that. Also, I can’t because I don’t see her for the rest of the day and I know you do.” Y/N replied. “Ugh, please Y/N” Ernie begged, giving her a puppy face. “I can text her but it will cost you” Y/N sighed smirking. He just rolled his eyes and nodded. “Fine”

EJ could see the Y/N and Ernie talking from his locker. He wanted to go up there and see what they were talking about but Ashlyn came up. “Hey, I’m surprised that you’re not going over there.” Ashlyn jokes. EJ just rolled his eyes and closed his locker. “I trust her,” EJ replied. He did trust Y/N but what he doesn’t trust is other people.

Later that night, Y/N was hanging over at the Caswell’s house. They were going over the homework that Miss. Jenn gave them. “I don’t get why she will want a one-page essay about my character,” EJ complains, throwing himself against his bed. Y/N just smiled and shook her head at how dramatic EJ could be. “You asked her to help you be able to be more emotional about the play. You need to understand more than what’s written in the script.” Y/N explains playing his hair. EJ just smiled and leaned into her hand. “It’s a lot of work but it is completely worth it” Y/N spoke again. “I guess so” EJ sighed. Y/N just smiled and stood up, saying that she was going to the bathroom. Suddenly Y/N’s phone rang with a text message.

From Ernie YES!!!! MY QUEEN. I own you big time. Thanks ;) :)

EJ quickly opened Y/N’s phone and started to go through their least texts. Soon to see that Y/N just sent him notes for a class. EJ closed the phone and threw himself to the bed again. He messed up again. He went through yet another girlfriends’ phone. Why can’t he just not mess up and be able to keep a relationship?

Y/N came out to find EJ tapping his foot against the bed frame. She quickly went over and sat next to him. “Hey what’s up?” Y/N asked softly, taking his arms from his face. “I can’t do anything right.” EJ whispers. Y/N just got more confused. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the work that Miss. Jenn gave you because-” Y/N started but EJ just shook his face more. “I went through your phone as I did with Nini,” EJ confessed, sitting up. “What?” Y/N asked confused as to why he felt the need to go through it. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot, okay?!” EJ answered standing up and pacing around the room. “I just saw a guy named Ernie sent you that you’re his queen and added a winking face that I just went through and it didn’t help since I saw a guy talking to you today at your locker. I’m so sorry Y/N. I trust you I do. More than anything but I guess sometimes I get scared that you will not want someone that doesn’t have to work on being a good person. Instead, he is already a good person. I just want to be a good person for you so badly. I’m sorry” EJ ranted looking at Y/N’s reaction.

Y/N just smile softly and hug him tightly. EJ hugged back just tightly. “I get it. I mean still not a good reason as to why to go through my phone but I appreciate that you told me.” Y/N spoke leaning back a bit. “You’re not mad,” EJ asked like a child. “EJ, you messed up once, that doesn’t add up to the many times that you have talked to me. You’re human, I’m not expecting you to be perfect.” Y/N explains, making EJ smile and hug her close again.

[twomoonstwosuns]

thanksgiving break

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: smut (18+), swearing, age gap (reader over 18), everything consensual

word count: 4.3k oops

a/n: get ready, i’m turning this into a full series (my first ever series and i’m STOKED). it’s gonna be full of smutty, fluffy, angsty goodness. i’m making a tag list, hit me up if you want to be added. i’ll link the masterlist when i have it made. also sorry not sorry i got really carried away and basically just wrote a porno.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You hadn’t seen Poe since that night.

You weren’t purposely avoiding him. In fact, you had caught yourself looking for him within a crowd of people, in line getting coffee, or walking outside between classes. Since his class was over, you had no reason to go to the building he taught in. And it would definitely be weird if you started showing up to his office hours without a reason.

Midterms were rough on you and everything after that just seemed to be getting harder. Studying for multiple tests and writing long papers took over your life for the month of November. Graduation was one semester away and you couldn’t take your foot off the gas, so you pushed yourself hard. Your diet consisted of energy drinks and whatever you could nuke in the microwave or get delivered late at night. Luckily, you weren’t alone in your stress. Your apartment-mates Karé and Jessika were in the same boat as you.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about your hookup with Poe, the way he kissed you, the way he sucked on your skin, and especially the way he fucked you just on the cusp of rough. It was good, so good, and you wanted it to happen again, which is probably why you were seemed to be looking for him everywhere you went. What would you even say if you did see him? Hey Professor, wanna fuck again? just didn’t seem like the right way to ask.

Thanksgiving break was a very welcome interruption.

You turned in the first draft of your thesis paper, the invisible weight on your shoulders lifting as you walked out of Professor Holdo’s office, wishing her a good break. Your phone buzzed inside your pocket and you saw your older sister Tallie’s name flash across the screen.

“Mom wants to know what time you’ll be home.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear, checking the time.

“Probably in like an hour, hour and a half? I’m heading back to my apartment now and have a couple last minute things to pack. Why?”

“She’s running to the store and wants to know what you’re making to bring to dinner tomorrow. If you answered your phone, you’d know that.”

You scoffed at her attitude.

“First of all, I don’t know what I’m making yet so tell mom I’ll just stop at the store myself. Second, I know it’s been awhile since you’ve been in college, but let me remind you that I still have classes the day before Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, I got that. Sorry.”

Tallie’s answer was short, clipped. At this point you were seriously debating staying at your apartment during break and eating a box of mac and cheese if this was the attitude you were going home to. All you wanted was a relaxing break. You needed it. You deserved it.

“What the hell’s your problem?”

“Nothing. I just—it’s our first holiday since dad left and I’m more angry than I thought I would be.”

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, making students around you have to sidestep you. You shot them an apologetic look as they passed. You understood why your sister was giving you attitude and gave her the benefit of the doubt. You knew it was Wednesday but had forgotten the significance of the day. Today was the day your parents’ divorce would be finalized. You let out a heavy sigh.

“I get it. I’m angry too.” You said.

Another person coming down the perpendicular hallway caught your attention and when you looked, you saw him, the person you’d been looking for. You gave him a smirk as he walked closer and he gave you one back when he made eye contact with you. Everything your sister was saying was passing through your head without being processed as you discreetly checked him out. A black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms was accompanied by dark blue jeans and a brown leather bag hanging off his shoulder, the shoulders you had fond memories of holding onto as he pounded into you. Poe Dameron was effortlessly dreamy. You held a finger up, silently telling him to hang out for a second. Poe slowed his walking and took out his phone, lingering an appropriate distance away from you.

“Look, the way I see it, we can stay angry or we can not think about it and just have a good break. I haven’t seen you since the summer.”

“I know, I’ve missed you. We’ll have to do something before you go back to school. And you’re right about being angry. I’ll let it go, for you…and for mom. I hate it when you’re right, by the way.”

“I’m always right, I don’t know why you’re not used to it by now.” You heard Poe laugh quietly and you gave him a look. “I gotta go, but I’ll be home soon.”

You hit the end call button and looked back up at Poe.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Everything ok?”

“Yeah, um—“ How much do you tell him? It was just sex the one time, it’s not like you were dating. You shook your head, deciding not to burden him with your family drama. “It’s nothing, really. My older sister’s a little bit of a drama queen sometimes.”

“Ah. Only child; never had that.”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

The air around you was tense, wrought with sexual tension that could be cut with a knife. You couldn’t help but bite inside of your cheek as you looked at him. The way Poe was raking his eyes over you was nearly the same as the way he looked at you at the club. He wanted a repeat of that night too. The words were on the tip of your tongue and you could tell Poe wanted to say something too. You wanted to say them so bad, but you didn’t know who might be lingering behind doors or around corners, so you settled for small talk.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah, I’m flying out to my dad’s tonight. We’re doing friendsgiving with a couple of his Air Force buddies and a few of my friends who don’t have much in terms of family.”

“That’s sweet,” you said. “Is Beebs going with you?”

Poe chuckled. His orange and white corgi Beebs had become very popular when he had his laptop hooked up to the monitor in his class and everyone saw the adorable dog as his computer background.

“Unfortunately no, he’s getting dropped off at doggy day care. Flying stresses him out.”

You thought you ‘awwed’ in your head, but the way Poe snickered made you realize you had actually said it out loud. You couldn’t help it though. The way he adored his furry companion was too sweet. Poe looked around him before taking a step closer to you.

“Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Give me your phone.”

You gave him a look as you handed your phone over. He held onto it for a minute, typing something in quickly before handing it back to you. His fingers brushed over yours and your whole body felt warm. You looked up at Poe, his eyes on you as he leaned in.

“See you later.” He said lowly in your ear as he passed you. He was playing a dangerous game out in the middle of the hall like this, but you found yourself growing wet instead of caring. You bit your lip to contain your smile before looking back at him, your eyes landing on his ass that just looked too good in those jeans.

“Tell your dog I say ‘hi’.”

Poe threw his head back and laughed loudly. He turned to look back at you and winked. You walked away in the opposite direction, the smile never leaving your face.

》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》

Thanksgiving dinner ended up being a lot more pleasant than you anticipated. Since your dad walked out, you had expected his side of the family to be awkward towards you. You actually expected them to not come at all. But they showed up with unconditional support that made it clear they were on your side and were very vocal about their disapproval after several glasses of wine. It was reassuring in a way.

It was Saturday afternoon when Poe texted you. You were lounging on the couch working on homework with reruns on as background noise. He asked if you wanted to get together, to which you texted back embarrassingly fast that you’d love nothing more. You’d never admit to it to him, but you had been anxiously awaiting a text since the minute you got home.

He texted you an address to a hotel in the city. Confused, you gave your mother some excuse about going to meet a friend to get coffee and work on homework. With your backpack full of random books, you drove into the city towards the hotel. You nearly sped down the streets, the anticipation at having Poe between your legs again making you want to clench your thighs together.

You arrived at the hotel, texting Poe that you were in the lobby. He gave you his room number and you were having a hard time standing still on your way up. The thoughts that swirled around your head were sinful, and you were so caught up in how aroused you were that you almost missed the room. You knocked twice before Poe opened the door and pulled you inside He pressed you against the door.

“Hi,” Poe said, giving you a sexy smile as he took your jacket off.

“Hi.”

You grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed your lips against his. He wasted no time sliding his tongue into your mouth and tangling it with yours. He was half hard already and you wondered if he had been thinking of you. You groaned at the feeling, heat pooling in your belly at how good it felt having his denim clad cock rubbing against your clothed core. Poe lifted your shirt over your head, breaking the kiss to do it but immediately reconnecting your lips. He pulled you from the door, his hands warm as one hand splayed across your lower back, the other kneading your breast through your bra. He turned you into the room, walking you in.

You unhooked your bra, flinging it somewhere in the room and bringing your fingers to the hem of his t-shirt. You paused as he helped you lift his shirt over his head, staring at his chest. The sneak peek you got through his shirt on Halloween gave way to a broad, muscular chest, tanned and toned. A silver chain lay against his skin, a ring hanging on the end of it. You traced your finger down his sternum, hooking it around the necklace.

“God, you’re sexy.” You breathed. The look he gave you nearly made you melt. Poe grabbed the back of your neck, trailing his lips from the curve of your jaw back to your ear. He left a trail of wet, hot kisses and you nearly lost your breath when he ran his teeth over your pulse point.

“Easy—fuck—easy on the marks this time.” You said breathlessly. “I still have to see my family tomorrow.”

You felt Poe chuckle against your skin, bringing his lips back up to yours and gently biting your lip.

“Good thing it’s scarf season,” he smirked before darting his tongue out to trace over where he’d bitten.

He unbuttoned your jeans and dipped his hand inside, cupping your heat through your underwear. You were embarrassingly wet, everything he was doing was making your body temperature rise. The back of your legs hit the bed and Poe gently pushed you onto it, removing his hand long enough to scoot you back. He pulled your jeans down your legs, unhooking them from your ankles and tossing them into the piles of clothes on the floor.

“Well well, what do we have here?” Poe said with a salacious grin, running his lips over the small tattoo on your side. He ran his finger along your slit over your underwear, feeling you soaking through. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Poe, please…”

“Please what?” He had a playful glint in his eye as he traced his finger along your underwear down to your inner thighs, avoiding the place where you really wanted him.

“Touch me. Please touch me.”

Poe practically ripped your underwear off and brought his fingers to your clit, pressing light circles on it. Your hips bucked up looking for more friction. Poe placed a kiss on your stomach and then on your breast before coming face to face with you. His eyes were nearly black with lust.

“Like that?”

His voice was rougher than you’d ever heard and it made you even more wet. You whispered out a ‘yes’ as he slipped a thick finger inside of you, pumping it once, twice before adding a second. “Fuck Poe, don’t stop.”

His thumb circled your clit as his fingers pressed inside you. You clenched around him, your orgasm blindsiding you and making your stomach flutter. Poe dragged his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips. Watching his tongue swirl around his fingers collecting your arousal made your pussy ache with need.

Your hands immediately unbuttoned his pants and he pushed them off with his briefs. You hooked your leg around his waist and pushed him onto his back, the underside of his cock against your pussy. You kissed him quick before making your way down to his neck, biting just above his clavicle.

“No bite marks,” his throat vibrated underneath your lips and you felt his breath catch as you palmed him over his briefs. “I’m teaching all day Monday.”

His reasons were as valid as yours, but you knew he was teasing as well. You kissed down his sternum, the metal of his necklace cool on your lips, and looked up at him from under your lashes.

“You could rock a scarf.”

Poe sat up, grabbing your face and kissing you hard as he flipped you back onto your back. You squealed at being manhandled that way and it surprised you how much you like it. Poe pulled away long enough to reach onto the nightstand and grab a condom. He tore the package open and you took it from his hand.

“Let me,” you said softly. You pumped his cock gently, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the tip and licking the pre-cum off your lips as you rolled the condom down the length. Poe thought he could’ve cum right on the spot. He pushed you back and lined his cock up with your entrance. He looked up at you, checking to make sure you were still good. You nodded and he sunk into you slowly, the both of you moaning as your back began to arch. He pulled out nearly all the way, the head of his cock remaining in side you and pushed in again at a slower pace, the month apart making you need a minute to adjust to his impressive size.

“Poe—god, so—“ A big swing of his hips silenced you, a victorious grin on his face. He grabbed your thighs, wrapping them around his waist and thrust into you. Your back arched when he hit that particular spot inside of you, the one that made the coil inside you start to tighten.

He sat back on his knees, scooping you up and hauling you into his lap. Your arms went around his neck to steady yourself as he rocked up into you and you caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the back of his shoulder. The new angle made him drive even deeper into you and when you rolled against his hips, the moan you released was downright pornographic. His large hands grabbed your ass, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he bounced you in his lap.

“You feel so good.” Poe’s mouth latched onto your breast, sucking marks onto the skin while his tongue flicked over your nipple.

“Fuck, Poe—I’m close—“

Poe increased your pace on his cock, slamming into you to bring you your release. Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head.

“Poe—“

“Look at me,” Poe grasped your hair, keeping your head in place. You opened your eyes. His eyes held a look of determination. “That’s it sweetheart, cum.”

You came apart in his arms, ecstasy taking over you and your moan sinful as your fingers tugged his hair. Poe tipped you back onto the mattress, grunting as he came. His thrusts slowed as you both rode out your highs, your bodies glistening with sweat as he collapsed on top of you. He was heavy on you, but it kept you grounded when you felt like your body was going to levitate. Your legs were twitching with pleasure as Poe rolled off of you. He caught his breath before getting up to discard the condom. When he came back, he slipped his boxers on and picked up his t-shirt, making no effort to put any more clothes back on. He pulled you up by your hand and slipped the t-shirt over your head. Your heart fluttered at the tenderness of the action. He was making sure you were comfortable since the blankets were bunched up and wrinkled underneath you and you had noenergy to move beneath them. You flopped back down on the bed and Poe lay next to you, looking at you with a lazy smile on his face.

“I think you nearly killed me this time.” You said, still attempting to catch your breath. Poe laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He knew just as well as you that this time was hookup was different and much more preferred. While it was just as quick and deliciously filthy as it was in the alleyway, you both had more time to get to know each other’s bodies and what made the other tick, which you took full advantage of. “I meant to ask you, why are we at a hotel?”

“I may or may not have locked my keys in my apartment when I was rushing to get Beebs out.”

You laughed loudly, the smile never leaving your face as he told you the full story. At the end of it, you joked with him, telling him it was going to become your mission to steal his adorable dog. He then asked about your holiday and you asked about his. The conversation was easy and effortless, like you were friends; friends who had just fucked each other’s brains out, but friends nonetheless. You heard your phone ring a few times, but couldn’t find yourself to go find it. Talking with Poe was much more interesting than anything anyone on the other end could say. The conversation turned to the current semester, how things were going from both a student’s and professor’s point of view, and then it turned to Halloween.

“So, I’m curious,” you said, rolling onto your side and resting your head on your outstretched arm. “You were awfully quick to seduce me at the bar—“

“You were quick to say yes.”

“How long had you been thinking about this?”

“Awhile.” He answered, shrugging his shoulders when you raised your eyebrows. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How many times have you thought about fucking me?”

The directness of the way he spoke was making you hot, making you wet and your thighs sticky with arousal. You hummed thoughtfully, trying to decide if you wanted to tell him just how long you had thought about him. Poe seemed to notice your hesitation and gave you a suggestive look.

“Tell me,” His voice was soft but demanding as his fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt as he inched closer.

You stretched your other arm above your head, your movements cat-like as you stretched. His eyes followed and settled briefly on your chest.

“Probably like once a week since the first day of your class.” You admitted with a flirty smile. Poe rolled over onto you, stretching his body along yours and holding your wrists above your head with one of his hands. The other traced the curve of your breast, gently playing with your nipple. He rolled his hips against yours.

“Is that so?”

You arched your eyebrow, giving him a look that dared him to do something about it. He leaned down, his lips brushing over yours, when your phone started going off for the third time.

“Oh my god.” You were annoyed, both at the person trying to call you and yourself for not turning your phone on silent. Poe got off of you and grabbed your phone, handing it to you. You huffed in annoyance when you saw your sister’s name.

“Hello?” You pressed your finger against Poe’s lips, urging him to keep quiet. He gently bit the top of your finger before sucking it into his mouth. You clenched your thighs together.

“So get this, Chris forgot to tell me—“

Whatever she was saying about her husband, you didn’t hear. You were too focused on Poe, who had pushed his shirt up and started tracing your tattoo with his tongue. He then moved down and lifted your leg, settling it over his shoulder, and without warning licked a strip from your slit to your clit, making you gasp.

“You ok?”

You squirmed under Poe and he laid his arm across the lower part of your stomach to keep you in place. He’d proven to be good with his mouth, but this was an entirely different kind of pleasure.

“Yeah, just ran into the corner of a table.” You felt Poe smile against you and bit your lip to keep from crying out. He inserted two fingers into you, curling them in succession with every flick of his tongue against your clit.

“Short notice, I know, but do you want to do happy hour tonight? Say, 7 o’clock at Coakley’s?”

You glanced at the clock on the nightstand, seeing it read 5:30. Between the sex and the conversation, you had been there for hours without realizing it.

“Sure, sounds—“ You pulled the phone away from your mouth, biting your lip to silence a whimper as Poe worked you towards your orgasm. “Sounds good.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, fine, that table just really hurt.” You tugged his hair with your free hand and he eased off, removing his fingers just as you were teetering on the edge. You whined at the loss of contact as he nibbled at the skin of your inner thighs. “I’ll see you at 7.”

You made sure you were disconnected before throwing your phone aside and moaning loudly as Poe delved his tongue into your pussy like a man starved. He was quick to bring you back to the brink of orgasm. Your legs trembled against him as you came hard,the pleasure overtaking you and making you lose all train of thought. Poe withdrew his fingers, running them through his mouth and collecting the rest of your juices. He kissed your sensitive folds once more before crawling back up your body, licking his lips as he did.

“That was so cruel.” You said breathlessly, but the smile on your face showed you didn’t mean it one bit. You swiped your thumb on his chin, collecting what remained of your juices and sucking it into your mouth. He pressed his lips to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth and letting you taste more of yourself.

“You have to get going.” He muttered as he pulled away, lifting himself off of you and pulling you up.

“I do.” You frowned, reluctantly getting off the bed. Your legs were still shaky with instability. “I feel like I’m always slipping out on you. But I can’t go to drinks with my sister smelling like I just spent the last couple hours having sex.”

You gathered up your clothes, making sure you were leaving nothing behind. You looked in the mirror above the dresser, trying to make your hair look somewhat presentable and making sure the hickeys you told Poe not to leave were completely covered.

“I’m being serious, you know.” You said, putting your underwear on. They were still damp and it made you tingle with the memory. “I’m going to steal your dog.”

“I don’t know about stealing him, but you’ll meet him when we do this again.”

You looked over your shoulder as you buttoned your jeans.

“Yeah? Again?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Good.” You slipped your jacket on and walked towards him. “Because this is a lot of fun.”

Poe stood from the bed and slipped his hand into your hair, pulling you into one last kiss. It was softer than the ones you’d previously shared. He pulled away and whispered ‘bye’ against your lips, pecking them once more before releasing you. You grabbed your purse and left with a wave and a wink.

He made you absolutely giddy. If someone had told you that you were going to have a sexual relationship with your professor, you would’ve laughed in his or her face. What made it so great for you was how natural your chemistry was. It was good, lighthearted, sexy fun, something that both of you craved during stressful times.

For the first time in awhile, you couldn’t wait to get back to school.

[hateswifi]

Making Do (With What Life Give Us): Part 4

So last part, don’t be afraid to talk to me, I love interacting with you all. I hope you enjoyed this short (15k word) fic. Without further ado, I give you Part 4.

----------------------------------------------------

As her friendship with Adrien grew she realized that he and Chat Noir are the same person. They had kissed during Dark Cupid, turns out they both remember it and found it awkward and decided on being friends. They would have won the gaming competition if Marinette hadn't given her spot up to Max. She had won his father's hat competition without prior knowledge of their friendship, in fact, Gabriel had offered a scholarship which she would have taken if not had it been for her need to disappear to be Ladybug. But she did take commissions from her new uncle, Jagged Stone. Chloe and she had become co-class presidents together again and everyone was quite happy. She also joined them in battle as Queen Bee with the promise of secrecy. Adrien and Chloe had officially unofficially adopted the two blondes into their family. Her parents are super protective over them especially after hearing about their nightly escapades as heroes. As a group, they were close, with the help of her family, to figuring out who Hawkmoth is. 

After an awkward conversation that Marinette did not in fact like Nino more than a friend, he joined the friend group with the later addition of Alya, his new girlfriend. Throughout it all, Damian and her family had started to come to Paris more, thankfully no one from her friends besides Chloe and Adrien had met them. She didn't want to tell Nino and Alya because of the Ladyblog, Alya had a tendency to stretch the truth and to do practically anything to get a good story. She didn't fully trust them and with good reason and it all started at the beginning of her third year in Paris.

A new student joined the class, which would have been fine besides the lies she was constantly telling. "I'll meet you in the park in ten minutes," she had said to Adrien.

"You wouldn't believe what she just said," Adrien snickers to Marinette as she comes out of hiding.

"How'd you know I was there?" Marinette asks, sitting beside him.

"Chloe texted me saying you felt something suspicious about her," Adrien said.

"And with good intention, she's clearly lying," Marinette pouted.

"Obviously, she's best friends with Ladybug even though she just moved here? How does that even make sense?" Adrien asks. "So I'm not saying that you should, but I'm going to meet up with 'Ladybug's best friend' I feel like she would LOVE to catch up with her, don't you think?"

"I'll let you know what my dear friend says," Marinette smirks. Adrien and the rest of her brothers had started to rub off on her.

"I don't recommend it, I would wait to see what she says first," Tikki whispers from Mari's purse. "Or you could interrupt as you depending on what she says."

"We'll see," Marinette said, standing up. As she entered the park she heard the liar talking. 

She coos. "Ladybug isn't even the most powerful hero, it's Volpina, the holder of the fox miraculous." She pauses while she pulls out her necklace. "This is the fox miraculous, it used to be my grandmother's, but she passed it down to me. I let Ladybug have her time to make a name for herself because we're best friends."

"You've been here for like two days," Adrien started.

"And," Marinette says, walking up. "That was a necklace released in Gabriel's last line. Also why would you tell a total stranger about something, 'so important' something that is supposed to be a secret," Marinette said, sitting down beside Adrien.

"Sabine, Tom, and Chloe are waiting at home for lunch, want to come?" Marinette asks Adrien.

"I would love to!" the liar interrupted, standing up.

"And you are?" Marinette asks.

"Sorry Mari, my dad wants me to come home today," Adrien said, standing.

"It's fine, just remember mama and papa would be heartbroken if they don't see you soon," Marinette said walking towards the entrance.

"Hey I've been busy, could you imagine how much more busy I would be if we hadn't threatened to dye my hair?" Adrien laughs, remembering that wonderful weekend.

"What do you mean?" Lila asked, racing up behind them.

"A couple of weeks ago, Adrien wanted to have a sleepover with our friend group, but his dad was being himself and decided that he couldn't," Marinette started, prompting Adrien to finish. "They snuck in through the window with some semi-permanent dye and the dyed my hair lime green. I threatened to shave my head if he kept forcing me to stay in the house."

"You're a bad influence on him!" Lila shouts, grabbing her arm.

"All I'm showing him is that he doesn't have to live his life as a prisoner in his own house," Marinette responds, pulling her arm from Lila's clutch.

"And I couldn't be happier," Adrien says as his car pulls up. "Bye Mari, we still on for after school?"

"Yes, Mama said if you don't learn how to back soon she'll disown me," Marinette laughs, hugging him.

"She can't disown you and even if she did Bruce would be more than happy to take you back," Adrien snickers.

"So are we never going to talk about this again?" Lila asked, the two friends stopping in their tracks.

"As long as you don't lie, we could start a friendship," Marinette smiles. "See you in class, Lila. Welcome to our class." They wave and walk there separate ways.

Stuff started to go downhill from there, Alya and Nino believed Lila lies over Marinette and their friend group them. It was a dark time in Marinette's life, everyone besides Chloe and Adrien. The retaliation that the class set against them was beyond tolerable. Gabriel still made Adrien deal with Lila because apparently 'she is all the rage right now.' Marinette had been more unhappy than usual so Marinette's parents decided that she needed a break from the drama, but on her last day before her vacation when everything went to hell. 

"I can't believe she was even let into this school!" Alya loudly exclaimed during lunch. 

Lila's sniffled, she had been distressed because Marinette 'supposedly' made fun of her for her past, "What do you mean?"

"Well before she became a jealous wench we were best friends, I just so happen to know almost everything about her," Alya snickers.

"What do you mean? She has secrets?" Lila asks, rubbing her eyes to wipe her tears away.

"She used to live in America, where her dad left her before she was born. Her mother was a stripper and died because she couldn't pay for her drugs and was shot," Alya laughs. "She lived on the streets until Sabine and Tom adopted her. Then she became friends with Chloe and Adrien for their money and connection, obviously. She then manipulated Adrien, Lila's soulmate, to hate her."

"I recommend you silence yourself before I break your elbows and give them to Titus," A voice comes from the entry of the cafeteria. "You're saying only the bad, most of them exaggerated and false.

"And you are... someone she paid to pretend to like her?" Lila asked.

"No, she doesn't need to pay me, even if she could she wouldn't be able to. She is my best friend," he said.

"Ummmm... No! I'm her best friend and she's never spoken of you," Alya said, crossing her arms.

"A real friend would check her statements before announcing these lies. Speaking of the Angel, where is she?" he asked.

"You must not be talking about her because she's an actual demon," Lila sniffles. "Have you heard the things she's done to me?"

"And I don't believe you," He said.

"Thanks, Demon. I never needed any of them all I needed was my closest and most trustworthy friends," Marinette said after she had run and hugged him.

"Hey, Angel, it's good to see you again," he said into her hair.

"And who are you, 'Demon', you never answered," Alya asked, putting air quotes around 'Demon'.

"I'm Damian, Marinette's best friend," Damian said, an arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"That's debatable, we both know I'm her better friend," Adrien snickers.

"Nope. I was her first friend," Damian answers.

"But first is the worst, and as being her second friend, I'm the best," Chloe says, smiling.

"Come on guys, you get to spend all the time with me, let me spend some time with Damian. I haven't seen him since Thanksgiving," Marinette says, snuggling into his embrace.

"Good job making the conversation all about you," Lila remarks.

"Whatever... come on let's go to class, the sooner this ends, the sooner I can leave," Marinette says and they turn to walk to class. 

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Lila said, crossing her arms.

"A jealous, psychotic, gold-digging, wench," Alya answers.

"With good tastes though, did you see that hot piece of man that defended her," Lila said.

"Dark and brooding," Alya adds before they head to class. The lesson was normal, glares and disappointing glances sent her way, as she designed. With fifteen minutes before dismissal for the day, a knock came at the door. 

"I'm here for Marinette," Damian said, entering the room.

"Oh thank God, I don't know how much more of this crap I can take," She responds in English. "Bye Chloe, Adrien, love you both, see you next week." She hears her friends respond with a bye as the door closes.

The trip went well and the time was well spent. Marinette released her first line while in Gotham under, the alias she used to be known as, Sunshine. They had a party held in her honor where for the first time ever, she showed her face to the public and the Ice Prince and Princess Sunshine became an official couple. She melted his heart, as said by a majority of the news outlets. 

She had also made a speech at the closing of the ball. "So honestly, I just want to thank Bruce, who was kind enough to foster for me, Damian, who was a supportive food friend turned boyfriend, my brother, Jason, Tim and Drake, who taught me to live my life. Along with my two best friends, who I met in Paris, Chloe Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste. My adopted parents, Tom and Sabine, who only have my best interest at heart. Last but not least I would love to thank my antagonists all my classmates, who I'm too mature to call out by name, especially the liar, you know who you are."

The girls watch in disbelief. Lila was crying actual tears as she saw her lie-kingdom begin to fall. Alya cries as she sees her career end. 

When Marinette returned a couple of days later, Marinette walked into class early, smiling. Alya stood there, arms crossed and glared ready. "You are a petty waste of--"

"I could have been petty and released all your names," Marinette says, trying to walk past the red-head.

"No, that is just common courtesy, it was just petty to bring us up in your lies," Lila said.

"You want to see petty, fine," Marinette said, dropping her bag on Bustier's desk. She pulls out her notebook and rips it.

"So... why should we care," Lila asked.

"That. That right there ripped up and at the bottom of the waste bin is our end of the year trip," Marinette said, pointing to the waste bin.

"You! You petty bitch!" Lila screams.

"Yep, and proud of it," Marinette smiles and takes a seat, but not before placing a stack of papers on their desk.

"Also this is for you," Adrien says, walking into class. He places a stack of papers on Alya and Lila's desk.

"And what are those," Lila says, significantly paler than normal.

"Well from me, those are lawsuits from my parents, Jagged Stone, and the Waynes," Marinette said, smiling as she took a seat.

"Mine is a court-mandated cease and desist order for your Ladyblog, for spreading rumors about the Agreste Brand. For you, Lila, your papers are termination papers, for spreading false rumors," Adrien said.

"W... What, you can't do this the Ladyblog is my life work!" Alya screamed.

"Who cares about you!? My mum is going to send me back to military school if she finds out I got in trouble for lying, please don't do this," Lila exclaimed, falling on the ground.

"I gave you a way out last year, you didn't take it," Adrien said, sitting beside Chloe and Marinette.

"It's all your fault! If you hadn't been such a bad influence on him I could have had it all," Lila screamed, attempting to jump at him.

"Nope! you couldn't have," Damian said entering the room.

"Lila Rossi, you're under arrest for working the terrorist, Hawkmoth and using celebrities' names to get free things," the officer said.

"Damian, what are you doing here?" Marinette asks, standing up to greet her boyfriend.

"Father and I are here on business," he responds hugging her,

"And does any of that business have to do with you helping me?" Marinette asks, smiling into his embrace.

"Some of it the other half was actual, WE work. I'm going to be working in this wing of WE when I graduate," Damian smiles.

"Sounds great, Demon," Marinette says, breaking the embrace to look him in the eyes.

"I can't wait to start this next chapter of my life with you by my side, Angel," Damian said, kissing the crown of her head.

Extra (how Damian realized Marinette was definitely not just a friend):

Marinette had come to the ball (not really party just really big party) wearing a light blue off the shoulder cocktail dress, looking as beautiful as normal. He had been enjoying himself until he saw it. Normally he’s not one to be jealous, but the way she was smiling at this guy was bothering him. Damian found Jason and told him. “I have a suspicious feeling about that guy.”

“Are you it’s not because how he’s making her smile?” Jason asks, nudging him with his elbow. 

“And why would that bother me!” Damian asks. 

“Well remember that time in the gym, right after Marinette became Ladybug and you found out she had a partner,” Jason asks, Damian gave a nod, yes. “Well today could be that day. The longer you wait the less chance you have with her.” He finishes before walking away. 

Extra (how they became a couple):

He was utterly and completely hecked --gotta keep it family friendly ( ; -- he was in love with his best friend and it looks like someone had already beaten him to it. At the thought he walked away to the balcony, failing to notice the bluenette, who had seen him sad and decided to check up on him.

When she found him he was leaning on the guardrail he was holding a glass of grape juice, not being the legal drinking his brothers found it funny to give him it. “What’s the matter Dami?” Marinette asks, putting a hold on his shoulder. 

“It nothing, I just realized that I’ve been missing who's been in front of me this whole time and now its too late,” he sighs, taking a swig from his glass.

“Missing who?” Marinette asks, placing her head on his shoulder.

“You, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me and it’s too late now,”  Damian explained.

“What do you mean it’s too late?” Marinette said, lifting her head. 

“Didn’t that guy ask you out?” Damian asks, standing up straighter. 

“What? No Dami. He’s a client,” Marinette explained, pulling him into a hug. 

“Wait seriously?” Damian says. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Yes Damian, if you hadn’t noticed I’m head over hill for you,” Marinette says, kissing his cheek. 

“Seriously!?” Damian asks, picking her up in a spin. 

“If I didn’t know Adrien I would say you’re the most oblivious person I know,” Marinette giggles into his embrace.

----------------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@northernbluetongue @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @gwennex @abrx2002 @sonif50 @silvergold-swirl @sturchling @rosep16 @toodaloo-kangaroo @captainmac6 @crazylittlemunchkin @tired-butterfly @emo-elaine13 @book-lover-2006 @weird-pale-blonde-person @rebecarojas07 @dahjokester @jessigurl-design @vixen-uchiha @daminett4life @cici-schnee @clumsy-owl-4178 @lavenderchaitea @grimmhallow31

[katsukikitten]

Hewwo! I was wondering if you could do a Bakugou x Fem Athlete reader? I use to be a wrestler and when I watch bnha and see their workouts/training, it brings me back to the good times where i use to slam ppl into the floor lol (im soft i swear-). Maybe reader goes to a boot camp and doesn't see bakugo for awhile and they come back hella buffed up and can even lift Bakugou with ease, maybe they're a weightlifter?? Idk but i wanna see bakugo shook at his strong gf lol

I hope you like this my dear.

You were what most people called a behemoth.

A thick woman with muscle on an athletic build instead of thick hips. Your shoulders were broad, strong and could carry the weight of the world.

And often times it did.

It used to bother you that you were not as femme as other girls. As cutesy and petite until one day you came to the realization that you'd never look like the women on the front of magazines.

And that was a o fucking kay. And everyday since then you fought with yourself and your self image.

Because bitch you were a queen.

And being a confident cut throat queen added to your muscular stature had most *boys* avoiding you like the plague.

But that was fine because you were looking for a M! A! N!

Although you didn't know you'd find him so soon and in such an odd package.

It took one deadly smirk aimed at you for you to fall head over heels.

And it took one knockout punch for him.

Depsite the mutual feelings the two of you only ever interact or text to spar. You too worried that you're reading into his excitement too much. Thoroughly convinced he only sees you as a bro he can actually go all out with.

While he is too fucking oblivious to even realize he had feelings for you. Paying you compliments and even bragging on you in class with simple songs of praises such as "Tch. Y/LN would break your puney fucking arm in a wrestling match Kirishima!"

The doting ash blonde would eye you then, smiling proudly daring anyone to test your strength.

And double daring anyone to comment on that powerfully beautiful body of yours.

If he heard a single off colored comment or joke about you, whether you were there to defend yourself or not he would step in. Hands popping with unkempt rage as a shit eating grin erupted on his kissable lips.

The thought of him defending your honor had your cheeks burning with blush as you waltz through the thick doors of the gym, exactly where Kirishima said you could find him. Silently thankful that he is wearing headphones with music loud enough that he does not hear the door shut as you spy his damp, sculpted back pull his body upward as he counts with barely a grunt.

Well into the upper thousands as your heart flutters, body heating to the point that your kneecaps melt. Struggling to stand you turn on your heel, losing the nerve to tell him goodbye although you will only be gone for a short month. Still you wonder if you should send a text, thumbs hovering over the lit keyboard debating if he would even want to read a stupid message from a lousy extra like you.

And it wasn't like you'd get a reply while you were gone and even if you did where you were going your phone would be no better than a glorified iPod touch with the lack of signal out in bumfuck nowhereville.

You decide against it sliding your phone into your leggings pocket as you tighten the straps on your book bag setting out for what will hopefully push you in the right direction.

Camp is hard as you knew it would be. You were training with the best strength oriented quirk pro heros in the game! Sending you through grueling obstacle courses with semi truck tires and endless pits of sand and mud.

Not to mention you were pushed to the point of puking more often than not. Still you somehow made friends in between the exhausting training and gnarly cafeteria food. Laughing, helping one another and even exchanging numbers with promises to text when a mythical bar of service was found.

Cool water drips form your hair as you plop down on the bottom bunk with a sigh, your bed mate pokes her head out to look down at you. Meanwhile you stare at the last text your friend Mina had sent you for the umpteenth time this week. A photo of you and Bakugo sharing a rare laugh during training both of your cheeks flushed and hair clinging to sweating foreheads over a joke long forgotten. But the feeling would never fade.

You damn her silently for being so sneaky and sneaky enough to catch both you AND Bakugo off guard.

"You've been sighing like you're s/o is away at war!" She chides, "So who are you staring at?"

This gains the attention of the other two girls in the bunks across the way, eyes gleaming at the thought of sharing crushes. Heat flushes your skin bright pink as you attempt to lock your phone but swift hands above snatch it from your normally steely grip.

"Oh." Is all she says as she looks closely at the photo, Bakugo shirtless with, dripping with sweat and wearing his best smile as you're three quarters to the camera cheesing hard as hell.

"Well shit I'd be sighing too. Your man is hot as hell! Does he train with you?"

"A..ah he's um not.." Fear grips your windpipe as you try not to sound creepy as fuck for looking at a picture of what is only your classmate. You clear your throat, "We're just sparring partners."

"What?!" She zooms in on his face before showing it to the other girls and yourself as best she can out of your reach, "My sparring partner never smiles. Make him your man!"

"I'm not his type, Kimi!" You rush out, embarrassment having you cover your face. Shit you'd never be his type.

You couldn't imagine anything more than a petite fiery or even just plain shy girl who wore dresses and heels. A woman with all the right curves that would dangle from his arm as he showed her off. Not some brute who could practically snap any man in half.

Your heart sinks into your gut, tears threatening to spill.

"Then what's his type?" She asks dryly above you. Mind racing as you think of how Bakugo looks at the opposite sex, hell even the same sex in your class and you come up with the same face each time. He wears his ever agitated snarl and that's if he even glances their way. Scarlet eyes narrowed into slits save when the look at you. They are narrowed only from the effects of his upturned lips.

"I reckon he ain't got a type then?" She says staring down at you from over her mattress. You avoid eye contact as you speak.

"I...I just can't see him with me. I'm all bulky and burly like." You flex your banded arms for emphasis before pointing at your bunk mate above, "While you're more toned and that of a fitness magazine model."

"So what? So fucking what! Haven't you seen me oogling you all week? Or the other women who would kill to have your gains! We see it sis, we see it and stan it. You carry muscle where most women DREAM to!" She jumps from the top bunk lifting your shirt up to your sports bra," Abs bitch, you've got washboard abs! Meanwhile my stomach can barely become flat. And your back! Ugh don't get me started how you're stronger than super girl with that toned back and beautifully rounded ass. Why are you selling yourself short?"

Your lack of answer is met with a harsh slap on your stomach before the timed lights in the cabin die out.

"The first thing I want you to text me about is how you asked that hottie blonde out." She threatens before jumping to the top bunk like an agile cat.

The month ends with tight hugs and a long ride home. You welcome the scenery of the winding roads and mountains as the train speeds past, muscles screaming from the month before.

And stomach growling wanting nothing more than a home cooked meal. If you did the math right on the chore wheel. You'd be coming back to Katsuki's cooking. You slip in and out of conciousness dreaming of spicy grilled chicken.

A surprise waits for you as you get off at your stop for the train. The platform crowded with familar bodies of class 3A

as you dismount from the steps.

"WELCOME HOME Y/N!" They shout in unison as Mina and Urarka rush in for a hug. You pull away laughing before your eyes scan for a blonde and when they come up empty your stomach twists for a moment. Mina pulls your thoughts away as slips her pink arms through yours guiding you towards the exit of the train station. She fills you in on the things you'd missed that fun summer month.

Swimming, fireworks, watermelon.

All activities that they planned to do again of course, espeically now that you were back. Not to mention her now boyfriend, Kirishima who, always the gentleman, took your bags to carry on your soon to be journey down six blocks back to UA, to home.

Still you wish Bakugo would have come to greet you too, you pull out your phone for a moment. Ready to text Kimi how you were gonna be forever alone, instead you lock your phone angrily shoving it into your bag.

With each step closer towards the dorms your body becomes heavier, weighted down with your mood drop that you brush off as "I'm just tired Mina-chan" endlessly until you reach the dorms.

The class floods into the their third year dorms as the smell of food wafts over your senses, causing mixed feelings to fist fight in your stomach.

"I'm just gonna get some sparring in before dinner." You smile at Mina, as you head out clad in your ever present athleisure wear, short black shorts and a tanktop.

The outdoor punching bag takes the brunt of your anger, of your disappointment and mostly your own self loathing over being upset over your training buddy not coming to greet you.

Still it stings to know he didn't even bother to show up. Hell he didn't even greet you at the damn door to the dorms!

Arching your fist you slam it into the bag that bursts open as the chain snaps, soaring into the treeline behind the dorms. You huff, back turned before your stomach growls, begging to be fed.

You collect yourself as you hear the sliding door to the living room open.

"Oi! Y/N!" His voice comes out biting as he approaches. You look to the source damning your heart for fluttering at just the sight of him. You notice his skull shirt seems a bit tighter than when you last saw him, muscled arms flexing as he keeps his calloused hands in his pockets. Harsh eyes look you up and down. Roving over your body making you feel naked beneath their intensity as he silently assess your thick frame. Scarlet lingering on exposed soft thighs that he may or may not imagine himself between sometimes. It took the entire month of his "sparring" partner gone to realize she may have been more than just that.

He fights the blush on his cheeks before a devilish grin overtakes his normal snarl.

"Atta girl, coming back stronger than ever. Bet you kicked some ass at camp huh?" His praises has your heart soaring as your body moves on it's own. Anger melting into warmth as you scoop up the muscled man into a bone crushing hug, giggling as you swing him in a circle. That is before you realize your giddy action could make him seem weak, something Bakugo loathes. You set him down with several rushed "Sorry"s before he grips your wrist tightly. Eyes boring into yours as he struggles to keep his breathing even.

"No I should be the one who's sorry." He growls.

"For what?" He answers as he pulls you closer to him until your lips crash into his. Hands roving up your toned arms before strong fingers pull at the hair at the nape of your neck deepening the kiss while you turn into putty in popping hands. After a few moments he breaks free, looking over your stunning features.

"For not fucking doing that sooner. For not fucking realizing that I admire more than just your strength." He looks away slipping his hand into yours as he pulls you back to the dorms, "Come on! I didn't make my girl's favorite just so it could get cold damn it!"

He drags you into the house as you watch after him before you snap a photo sending it to Kimi with a caption underneath.

"He beat me to the punch."

[lucyreviewcy]

The Three Three Musketeers (or Where The F*ck Did All The Stupid Hats Go)

I read The Three Musketeers and then I watched the 1973, 1993 and 2011 adaptations. Which one wins tho?

Adaptation is a fascinating concept, especially of texts which are frequently adapted or parodied. After I rewatched the 2005 Pride and Prejudice I was reminded how weirdly divisive the two dominant adaptations of that book are. A lot of people consider the 2005 to be an inferior betrayal of the 1990s BBC version. I actually prefer the 2005 because I think Matthew McFadyen’s Mr Darcy is a wonderfully complex character. McFadyen imbues Darcy with social awkwardness and anxiety, which Lizzie misinterprets as his pride. To overcome the “Lizzie doesn’t fancy him ‘til she sees his house” debate, director Joe Wright includes a moment where Lizzie glimpses Darcy alone with his sister. He’s comfortable, his body language is completely different, and he’s smiling broadly. That moment really sold me on the entire film because it made Darcy a full character and was a really simple addition that rounded out the story. I still like the 90s version but for me, it’s the 2005 that takes first place.  (Although an honourable mention for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies because it is an excellent romp.)

Look: adaptation is always a complicated topic. You can’t untangle one adaptation from another, because it’s pretty rare that somebody adapting a classic text like Pride and Prejudice or The Three Musketeers is not already familiar with existing adaptations. The most recent adaptation of any classic text is not simply an adaptation of that text, but the next step in a flow chart that includes all the previous adaptations and the cultural context of the newly created product. These three adaptations of Dumas’ 1844 novel are all texturally and stylistically very different, and two of them diverge significantly from the original text. What I found truly fascinating was what all of them had in common, and what each new era (these were made at around 20 year intervals) decides to add or remove. What do all these movies agree are the essential parts of the story, and what are some adaptations more squeamish about including from Dumas’ original narrative?

Before we dive in, no I have not seen every single adaptation of the story, that would be a dissertation level of research and I do actually have things to do right now (although, I will admit...not many.) I’m looking at these three Hollywood adaptations because they all had star studded casts (for the era they were made in), they’re all English language, and (crucially) they were all easily available on the internet for me to stream.

What are the essential ingredients of a Three Musketeers adaptation?

Firstly, there should be at least three musketeers. Secondly, D’Artagnan (Michael York 1973, Chris O’Donnell 1993, Logan Lerman 2011) should be a young upstart who is introduced part way through a sword fight. He should also have silly hair. He is also consistently introduced to the musketeers in all three films by challenging them each individually to duels at noon, one o’clock and two o’clock. 

The films all maintained some elements of the original “Queen’s Diamonds” storyline, and featured the Queen, Milady and Constance. The characterisation of these three varied a lot.

Our villains in each case are invariably the Cardinal, his pal Rochefort (who always has an eyepatch, although this trope is not in the book and is actually attributable to the way Christopher Lee is styled in the 1973 film), and Milady de Winter. Satisfyingly, at least two of the villains usually wear red because they’re bad. Red is for bad. 

All three are very swashbuckling in tone, have elements of physical comedy, and two of them include one of the three valet characters Dumas wrote into the original story, Planchet (1973 Roy Kinnear, 2011 James “ugh why” Corden). They also all bear the generic markings of the movies made during the same era, our 70s D’Artagnan feels like a prototype Luke Skywalker. The 90s version features a random martial arts performer. The 2011 version has CGI and James Corden in equal measure (read: far too much of both.)

What are the big differences?

I’m going to divide this category into three main segments: character, story and style. My own three musketeers, the three musketeers of movie making.

Character

D’Artagnan

D’artagnan in the book comes across as a pretty comical figure. He’s nineteen and there’s something satisfying about how similar Dumas’ caricature of a nineteen year old is to a modern character of the same age. He’s overconfident, has a simplistic but concrete set of morals, and falls in love with every woman he sees. If D’Artagnan were a 2021 character, he’d really hate The Last Jedi, is what I’m saying. He’d definitely have a tumblr blog, probably a lot like this one, but perhaps a scooch more earnest. He really loved The Lighthouse but he can’t explain why. Isn’t it nice to know that awkward nineteen year olds have been pretty much the same for the last three hundred years at least? 

In all three films he’s kind of irritating, but at least in the 1973 this feels deliberate. This version has a certain “Carry On Musketeering” quality to it and D’Artagnan is your pantomime principal, he’s extremely naïve and he takes himself very seriously. This is the closest D’Artagnan to the book, and the 1973 is, in general, the film which adheres most faithfully to that source material. 

The 1993, which is (spoiler alert) my least favourite adaptation, has Chris O’Donnell as the least likeable D’Artagnan I’ve come across. I’ve only seen O’Donnell in one other thing, the Al Pacino movie Scent of a Woman. He’s bearable in that because he’s opposite Al Pacino, and so his wide-eyed innocence makes sense as a contrast to Pacino’s aged hoo-ah cynicism. Rather than being introduced in a practice sword fight with his father, as in the other two films, D’Artagnan is fighting the brother of an ex-lover. This captures the problem with the film in general: this adaptation wants D’Artagnan to be cool. He is not. The comedy of the 1973, and indeed the book, comes from D’Artagnan being deeply uncool, and from his blind idolisation of the deeply flawed Musketeers who actually are cool, but not necessarily heroic, or even good people. Their moral greyness contrasts with D’Artagnan’s defined sense of right and wrong, but he still considers them to be role models and heroes. 

2011′s version also suffers from “Cool D’Artagnan” syndrome, with the added annoyance of that most Marvel of tropes: the quip. One of the real issues with this film is that the dialogue has a lot of forced quippery that doesn’t quite land, and the editing slows the pace of the entire film. D’Artagnan’s first interaction with Constance is a bad attempt at wit which Constance points out isn’t very funny. The problem is that Constance has no personality so there’s no real indication that she’s in any position to judge his level of wit. She’s just vague, blonde and there: three characteristics which describe an entire pantheon of badly written female characters throughout the ages. Cool D’Artagnan also means that Constance should be additionally cool, because in the book, Constance is older than, smarter than and over-all more in charge than D’Artagnan. 

Female Characters

Let’s go into this with an open mind that understands all these films were made in the sociological context of their decade. The 1973 version would absolutely not be made in the same way now. Constance is a clumsy cartoon character who is forever falling over and accidentally sticking her breasts out. This is not the character from the books, but does at least leave an impression on the viewer one way or another. 

In contrast, the 1993 has a Constance so forgettable I literally cannot picture her. I think she holds D’Artagnan’s hand at the end. That’s all I can say on the subject. 

The 2011 has Gabriella Wilde in the role, and absolutely wastes her. Anyone who’s seen her in  Poldark knows that she can do sharp-tongued beautiful wit-princess with ease. It’s the writing of this film that lets her down, in general, that’s the problem with it. The storyline and design are great, but the actual dialogue lacks the pace and bite that a quip-ridden star vehicle needs. This Constance is given simultaneously more and less to do than the Constance of the original book, who demonstrates at every turn the superiority of her intellect over D’Artagnan, but doesn’t get to pretend to be a Musketeer and whip her hat off to show her flowing golden hair like she does in the 2011. 

The best character, for my money, in The Three Musketeers is Milady de Winter. Even Dumas got so obsessed with her that there are full chapters of the book written from pretty much her perspective. In the book, she’s described as a terrifying genius with powers of persuasion so potent that any jailor she speaks to must be instantly replaced. My favourite Milady is absolutely Faye Dunaway from 1973. She’s ferocious and beautiful and ruthless, but potentially looks even better because the portrayals in the other films are so very bad. 

The 1993 version has your typical blonde 90s baddie woman (Rebecca De Mornay), she wouldn’t look out of place as a scary girlfriend in an episode of Friends or Frasier. 2011 boasts Milla Jovovich who presents us a much more physical version of the character, even doing an awkwardly shoe-horned anachronistic hall of lasers a la Entrapment except instead of lasers its really thin pieces of glass? The “yeah but it looks cool” attitude to anachronism in this film is what makes it fun, and Jovovich’s Milady isn’t awful, she’s just let down by a plot point that she shares with 1993 Milady. Both these adaptations get really hooked on the fact that Athos used to be married to Milady at one time (conveniently leaving out the less justifiable character point that Athos TRIED TO HANG HER when he found out she had been branded as a thief - doesn’t wash so well with the modern audiences, I think.) Rather than hating/fearing Milady, the two modern adaptations suggest that Athos is still in love with her and pines for her. This detracts from Athos’ character just as much as it detracts from Milady’s. Interestingly, and I don’t know where this came from (if it was in the book I definitely missed it), both films feature a confrontation between the two where Athos points a gun at Milady but she pre-empts him by throwing herself off a cliff (or in the 2011, an air-ship.) I think both these versions were concerned that Milady was an anti-feminist character because she’s so wantonly evil, but I disagree. Equality means it is absolutely possible for Milady to be thoroughly evil and hated by the musketeers just as much as they hate Rochefort and the Cardinal. If you want to sort out the gender issues with this story, round Constance out and give her proper dialogue, don’t make Milady go weak at the knees because of whiny Athos (both Athos characters are exceedingly whiny, 1973 Athos is just...mashed).

The Musketeers

These guys are pretty important to get right in a film called The Three Musketeers. They have to be flawed, funny but kind of cool. Richard Chamberlain is an absolute dish in the 1973 version, capturing all those qualities in one. Is it clear which version is my favourite yet?

Athos is played variously by a totally hammered Oliver Reed (1973), a ginger-bearded Kiefer Sutherland (1993) and a badly bewigged Matthew McFadyen (2011). They all have in common the role of being the most level-headed character, but the focus on the relationship between Athos and Milady in the 93 and 11 editions undermines this a lot. Athos should be cool and aloof, instead of mooning over Milady the entire time. The 2011 gives Athos some painfully “edgy” lines like “I believe in this (points at wine) this (flicks coin) and this (stabs coin with knife.)...” which McFadyen ( once oh so perfect as Mr Darcy) doesn’t quite pull off. 

Porthos seems to be the musketeer who is the most different between interpretations. A foppish dandy in the 1973, a pirate (!?!) in the 1993, and then just...large in 2011. I think the mistake made in the 2011 is that large alone does not a personality make. There are hints at Porthos’ characterisation from the book: his dependence on rich women for money and his love of fine clothing, but these are only included as part of his introduction and never crop up again through the rest of the film. Pirate Porthos in 1993 is... you know what, fine, you guys were clearly throwing everything at the wall and seeing what stuck. 

Aramis is our dishy Richard Chamberlain in 1973, followed by womanising Charlie Sheen in 1993 and then strikingly suave Luke Evans in 2011. I actually didn’t mind Luke Evans’ interpretation, his dialogue is forgettable but his sleek charm stuck in my head. For some reason, this version has Aramis working as a parking attendant for horses, it worked for me as a fun A Knight’s Tale-esque bit of anachronistic character development. Charlie Sheen has never managed to appear likable or attractive to me and so his role in the 1993 falls flat. In fact, in that edition there’s not much distinction between the musketeers as characters and they’re all just very 90s and American. As anyone who’s read this blog before will expect, I think Keanu Reeves as Aramis would have really upped this film’s game. In fact, Keanu Reeves as Aramis, Brad Pitt as Athos and Will Smith as Porthos could have been the ultimate 90s adaptation, throw in DiCaprio as D’Artagnan and Roger Allam as the Cardinal and I’m fully sold. 

The King and Queen

All three films try and do the “Queen’s Diamonds” storyline, but only the 1973 actually includes the Queen’s affair with Buckingham. The queen, played by Geraldine Chaplin, is a tragic romantic figure (she doesn’t have a tonne to do besides being wistful and sighing over Lord Buckingham). The king is played as a frivolous idiot by Jean-Pierre Cassel (voice dubbed by Richard Briers). He doesn’t really think of the queen as a person, more as a possession that he doesn’t want Buckingham to have. 

In the 1993 version, Buckingham doesn’t really feature, and it’s the queen’s refusal to get off with the Cardinal that prompts his fury at her. The book does touch on the Cardinal’s desire for the queen, but it’s placed front and centre in 1993. This is definitely the boobsiest version, with quite a lot of corsetry on show and a cardinal who hits on literally all the women. The king is shown as a stroppy teenage boy under the thumb of the cardinal, who just wants to ask the queen to the dance but doesn’t have the nerve. The king is, essentially, a Fall Out Boy lyric. 

The 2011 also seems to be really squeamish about the idea of the queen having an extramarital affair. It paints Buckingham (played with excellent wig and aplomb by Orlando Bloom) as a stylish villain, who’s advances the queen has rejected. Like the 1993 version, the King is a feckless youth rendered speechless by the presence of his wife. Both these versions want the King and Queen to be happy together, while the 1973 doesn’t give a fuck. 

The Cardinal and his Cronies

The cardinal is kind of universally an evil creepy guy. One of the characters from the 1973 version who actually left the least impression on me, played by Charlton Heston. I think he’s overshadowed in my recollection by cartoonishly evil Christopher Lee as Rochefort. Lee’s Rochefort is dark, mysterious and wonderfully bad, and so influential that all other incarnations’ design is based on him. The 1993 version had truly over the top Michael Wincott as a character I could honestly refer to as Darth Rochefort from the way he’s framed, while 2011 boasts a chronically underused Mads Mikkelsen in the role. 

Cardinal-wise, 1993 was my favourite with Tim Curry in all his ecclesiastical splendour. It was disappointing that everything about this film, including the Cardinal’s sexual harassment of every single female character, really didn’t work for me. Tim Curry is a natural choice for this role and gives it his campy all. 

2011 has not one but two trendy bond villain actors, with Mikkelsen working alongside Christoph Waltz who was...just kind of fine. I was really excited when he appeared but he didn’t really push the character far enough and left me cold. 

Story

The story is where the different adaptations diverge most completely. 1973 follows the plot of the novel, D’Artagnan comes to Paris, befriends the Musketeers and becomes embroiled in a plot by the Cardinal to expose the Queen’s affair with Buckingham through the theft of two diamond studs. D’Artagnan, aided partially by the musketeers, must travel to London to retrieve the set of twelve studs gifted by the King to the Queen, and by the Queen to Buckingham. He does so, the plot is foiled, he’s made into a musketeer! Hurrah, tankards all round.

The 1993 version drops D’Artagnan into the story just as the Cardinal has disbanded the Musketeers. I found the plot of this one really hard to follow and I think at some point D’Artagnan ended up in the Bastille? There was this whole plot point about how Rochefort had killed D’Artagnan’s father. In the original, and in the 1973 version, D’Artagnan’s entire beef with Rochefort is rooted in a joke Rochefort makes about D’Artagnan’s horse. I guess for the producers of this one, a horse insult is not enough motivation for a lifelong grudge. That is really the problem with the entire film, it forgets that the story as told by Dumas is set in a world where men duel over such petty things as “criticising one’s horse”, “blocking one’s journey down a staircase” and “accusing one of having dropped a lady’s handkerchief.” The colour palette and styling are very 90s “fun fun fun”, but the portrayal of the cardinal and the endless angst about D’Artagnan’s father really dampen the mood. 

The 2011 version, this is where the shit really hits the fan. We meet our musketeers as they collaborate with Milady to steal the blueprints for a flying ship (it’s like a piratecore zeppelin). Milady betrays them and gives the plans to Buckingham, they all become jaded and unemployed. D’Artagnan arrives on the scene (his American accent explained by the fact that he’s from a different part of France) and befriends the Musketeers. The cardinal tries to frame the queen for infidelity by having Milady steal her diamonds to hide them in Buckingham’s safe at the tower of London. Something something Constance, something something help me D’Artagnan you’re my only hope. MASSIVE AIRSHIP BATTLE. The king and queen have a dance. James Corden cracks wise. 

It seems like as time has passed, producers, writers and directors have felt compelled to embellish the story. I think, specifically in the case of the two later versions, this is because they wanted the films to resemble the big successes of the period. Everybody knows no Disney hero can be in possession of both parents, so D’Artagnan is out to avenge his father like Simba or Luke Skywalker. In the 2011 version, the plot is overblown and overcomplicated in what seems like an attempt to replicate the success of both the Sherlock Holmes and Pirates of the Caribbean franchises. Remember the plot of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End? No, me neither. 

Style

The style of these films grows increasingly wild along with the plots as time passes. The 1973 features a lot of slapstick comedy, some of which really made me cackle, and some of which was cringeworthily sexist (Constance’s boobs through the window of a litter.) That’s the 70s though! I love The Godfather but Diane Keaton’s character is unbelivably dull and annoying. Star Wars features a pretty good female character but she does end up in that bikini. The 70s seems to be a time of movies that were great except for their occasional headlong dive into misogyny. That doesn’t mean the entire movie is bad, it just means it’s suffering from the consequences of being made in the 70s. There were other consequences of this, I doubt many modern productions could get away with physically injuring so many of it’s cast members. From a glance down the IMDB trivia page, this film yielded a higher casualties to cast ratio than the My Chemical Romance Famous Last Words music video, and that’s a hard figure to top. 

The 1993 version is a Disney feature and suffers from having a thin sheen (not Charlie in this instance) of “Disney Original Movie” pasted over every scene. It looks like The Parent Trap might be filming in the adjacent studio a lot of the time. The vibrancy of the colours makes the costumes look unrealistic, while the blandness of the female characters means this movie ends up a bit of a bland bro-fest. Also occasionally the sexual and violent moments really jar with the overall tone making it an uneven watch. One minute it’s Charlie Sheen cracking jokes about trying to get off with someone’s wife, the next minute you see Milady throw herself off a cliff and land on the rocks. Weird choices all round. 

The 2011 version, as I’ve already mentioned, was trying to borrow its style from the success of Sherlock Holmes and Pirates of the Caribbean, with a little Ocean’s 11 thrown in. The soundtrack flips between not quite a Hans Zimmer score and not quite that other Hans Zimmer score, and after the success of Stardust it ends with a Take That song (for it to match up to the story it should have been Take That feat. Harry styles imho). Visually, there’s some fantastic travel by mapping going on, there’s far too much CGI (one of my friends pointed out that the canal in Venice seemed to be full of Flubber). Everyone is dressed in black leather, and there are not enough big hats at all. One of the best things about Musketeers films is that they’re an excuse for ridiculous hats, and in a film with a quite frankly insane visual style, I’m surprised the hats didn’t make it through. The cast, unfortunately, really lack chemistry which means the humorous dialogue is either stilted or James Corden, and the editing is just very strange. It’s one of those films that feels about as disjointed as an early morning dream, the one where you dream you’ve woken up, gotten dressed and fed the cat, but you actually are still in bed. 

Conclusion

Adaptations focus on different things depending on the context they were created in. The 2005 Pride and Prejudice is deliberately “grittier” than its 1990s predecessor, at a stage when “grit” was everywhere (The Bourne Identity, Spooks, Constantine). The Musketeers adaptations demonstrate exactly the same thing: what people wanted in the 70s was bawdy comedy and slapstick with a likeable idiot hero, the 90s clearly called for... Charlie Sheen and bright colours, and the 2010s just want too much of everything and a soundtrack with lots of banging and crashing. The more modern adaptations simplified the female characters (although the 1973 version definitely is guilty of oversimplifying Constance) while over-complicating the plot. There’s a lot of embellishment going on in the 2011 version that suggests the film wasn’t very sure of itself, it pulls its plot punches while simultaneously blindly flailing its stylistic fists. 

The film that works the best for me will always be the 1973 because it’s pretty straight down the line. Musketeers are good, Milady is evil, falling over is funny and the King’s an idiot. The later adaptations seem to be trying to fix problems with the story that the 1973 version just lets fly. The overcorrection of Milady and the under characterisation of Constance is the perfect example of this. If you want your Musketeers adaptation to be more feminist, don’t weaken Milady, strengthen Constance. Sometimes a competent female character is all that we need. A Constance who is like Florence Cassel from Death in Paradise or  Ahn Young-yi from Misaeng could really pack a punch.

I adored the energy of the 2011 adaptation, I loved how madcap it was, I loved how it threw historical accuracy to the wind. I thought the king was adorable, and I really enjoyed seeing Orlando Bloom hamming it up as Buckingham. I was genuinely sad that the sequel the ending sets up for never came, because once they got out of the sticky dialogue and into the explosions, the film was great fun. It was a beautiful disaster that never quite came together, but I really enjoyed watching it. I love films that have a sense of wild chaos, some more successful examples are The Devil’s Advocate, Blow Dry and Lego Batman. I think the spirit of going all out on everything can sometimes result in the best cinematic experience, it’s just a shame the script wasn’t really up to muster for 2011 Musketeers. 

I’m excited to see what the next big budget Musketeers adaptation brings, even if I’m going to have to wait another ten years to see it. I hope it’s directed by Chad Stahelski, that’d really float my boat (through the sky, like a zeppelin.)

[corvidshipping]

also, if anyone is wondering, since the actual release order of narnia differs extremely from the official timelines order, the actual release order is:

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Prince Caspian

Voyage of the Dawn Treader

The Silver Chair

The Horse and his Boy

The Magicians Nephew

The Last Battle

and the chronological order that i follow (its hotly debated and no one 100% agrees on it), with the timeline in mind (and my unwanted commentary), is:

The Magicians Nephew (the prequel!! comes first bc it describes the origins of narnia. pretty good, but the themes are hugely religious. the aslan-as-jesus metaphor from the first book goes from subtext to just text. not the worst as far as bigotry, and though jadis is written as being barbaric shes also written as white - since the white queen, whom she becomes, is described as impossibly pale - so they managed to skip some of the negative implications there. i genuinely enjoy this one a lot!!)

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (an absolute classic, i love this book but ive read it so many times i could probably recite it in my sleep)

The Horse and His Boy (this is a racist one folks. its one of my least favorites. the plot is good, and thats what makes me so sad about it - it has strong themes of White Savior, Colonialism Good, Dark Skinned People From Desert Bad. it fuckin SUCKS bc the character development is so interesting and i loved shasta and aravis’ relationship but the racism is so overt in it that i even noticed it as an oblivious kid. i will say that this book is worth reading not for the plot or for the characters, but for the lore; it provides an insight into the rule of the pevensies, which lets us build sort of a history of narnia! but honestly, its a skippable book. you will not miss out on anything important if you skip this one. any important points that are in this book r covered in the other ones. second one in the series bc it takes place during pevensie rule, technically during LWW but it comes before Caspian for me since that book starts with their return to narnia.)

Prince Caspian (third book since it talks about the pevensies coming back to narnia, a while after they were kicked out in LWW! the movie bored me as a kid, but i love the book although ive read it so many times i dont know if i could read it again. after this book, the chronology is mostly the same as the release order bc theyre written more or less with the start of the next after the end of the last. also, the last book with every single pevensie child in narnia at once)

Voyage of the Dawn Treader (this is a rly good one, its a lot less religious than some of the later books and its also less racially charged, the themes are very focused on exploration and adventure and its rly good!! it also introduces a new character, eustace, and focuses on lucy and edmund who were actually my favs as a kid - i know edmund was a shit, but i liked that he was able to redeem himself. it reminded me that few ppl are beyond redemption, as long as they actually try to do right.)

The Silver Chair (the first narnia book to feature absolutely 0 pevensies! it focuses on eustace, from Dawn Treader, and his friend jill, and furthers the development eustace started making in Dawn Treader! this was my #1 fav as a kid, i read it so many times which is why its fuckin SCANDALOUS to me that i forgot most of the plot somehow though an reading back - oh my god puddleglum, i forgot how much i used to love puddleglum?? actually. i used to have a crush on him. um. wait. wait a minute-)

The Last Battle (oh. oh god. this is just the book of revelation for kids. its ... so bad dude. i dont like this one much. i used to love it as a kid but... dude, the christianity metaphor goes from being an occasional plot point or part of the mythology of the world to the entire plot. its basically about the end of narnia, where this guy convinces his friend to fake being aslan making his return until aslan actually makes his return to fight the Evil Satanic Nonhuman God that the Scary Dark Skinned People From The Desert worship -- its the most overtly written subtext ive ever seen. the main - of course white - characters literally do blackface at one point. it sucks so bad. and then, as if thats not bad enough, theres a sprinkling of misogyny on top - susan forgot about narnia bc shes not allowed back in, because she became too old and got interested in makeup and fashion. no joke. shes interested in makeup and fashion, so cat jesus thought she was too shallow to go back to narnia. i dont even recommend reading this one for the plot, its bad. i will literally explain the important plot to you if you want, you shouldnt have to struggle through this book to get that lore. its not worth it, baby.)

[currentfandomkick]

Miraculous and the Batboys - Week 3

So i am back(ish) and I bring the Update. Editting is for those with patience and time that i lack. ao3 link HERE

--

A weekend dodging Gina was… eventful. Even moreso when celebrating ‘No More Gabriel Brand’ time was cut short by a barrage of akuma.

All weekend.

Marinette is convinced the man has too much free time.

She would admit (ONLY when no one else was around) that having someone else checking info during battles was nice. Out of the visiting bats, she had come to rank them from least to most irksome: Red Robin (most helpful), Nightwing (helpful), Red Hood (… he was slightly less annoying—he seems to understand she is the leader of the team) then Robin (who can’t get that she knows what she’s doing, AND hurts the minions more than necessary).

Okay, maybe she’s holding a grudge from when they first met (Tikki enjoyed reminding her of that new found habit—grudge holding) but you don’t go around calling a bunch of magic jewelry powered superheroes incompetent before finding out what they’re fighting and how they have to fight!

And yes, this is a hill she will die on.

Chloe and Adrien are in full agreement, well, Queen Bee and Chat Noir are.

“Are you sure we can’t just…” Chat gestured with his eyes to where Robin was perched at the edge, “just a little?”

Marinette didn’t answer him. She turned to Queen Bee. “You need to influence chaton less.”

“Never.”

--

Tim almost collapsed when he saw Marinette on her own. Why?

Because he was Certain that he saw a, a red thing—creature? Poke something out of her purse.

Red was Ladybug’s color. Yep. She’s. Yep—mini Red Robin hard since he’s pretty sure she’s avoiding someone too.

She was too—he knew for a fact she’s avoiding Gina excellently (either hiding at the hotel with Chloe, the teashop or one Adrien Agreste and his… legal cousin but Tim is certain there is something off about that with the Holy Doopleganger Batman! Vibe he got from checking out the pair’s apartment. He now had a fun thing to look into when he’s bored and tired of Hawkmoth Shenanigans).

She’s also… yep. Dodging a bunch of teens he’s certain are her classmates.

And… Damnit demon spawn!

--

Marinette managed to disentangle herself from class parkour (miraculous training as civvies) when she got a text from Damian.

Apparently he wanted to ask how she was handling the whole… Thing with Bustier and Lila.

She wonders if he’s dealt with bullying too, and was looking for advice. She was certain hers was crap, but she did say she’d be around so…

She met up with Damian not too far from the park at a café, nothing fancy, and waited for him to start once they’d placed their orders.

“I know it is a personal matter and not my place to ask, however I would like to know how you have managed to endure the repugnant behavior of our teacher and the harlot.”

Marinette forgot she should think before responding.

“Pretty sure whores and sex workers are paid. She’s more con artist for attention than anything else.”

She missed Damian’s response as the waiter put down their drinks and raised an eyebrow at them.

“Remember the girl that framed me a while back and tried to expel me the first Scarlet Moth round?”

“Ah.” The waiter turned to Damian then. “Don’t insult whore by putting them in with that, well, work and I see my boss so I can’t say what I want again, but we both know what she is, and whores are no where near that level. Politicians, most, whores? No.”

Marinette snorted into her drink as they left.

“And to answer your question, well, I don’t really have a choice.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at that.

Marinette could feel his eyes on her, but couldn’t meet their gaze with this topic. (It still hurt, even though it’s a been years since it began.)

“Lila had everyone charmed or uncertain if she was lying until two weeks ago. Bustier said I had to be a good example and class representative putting that above everything else in my life. Even though everyone knows I’ve been helping run three different businesses on top of handling my program and own business and clientele, and help take care of Fu with a few other small business kids. Nothing could come before the class’s harmony—nothing.”

Marinette took a small bite of her pastry.

“So I saw someone who could force her to listen or have to deal with actively and knowingly violating anti-akuma laws—something she’s only managed to narrowly avoid since, well,” Marinette gestured to herself. “I got tired of constant akumas in class and managed to convince the school board as my last act as class rep to require daily and weekly mental health checks and mitigate potential akuma triggers during weekly checks, daily being more ‘answer these questions honestly’ for stress levels. The system flags major changes, and the students affected see one of the counselors immediately to find ways around what’s bothering them.”

Marinette missed Damian staring at her for that, or how his mouth opened ever so slightly.

“When I stepped down, everyone noticed I wasn’t comfortable alone with Bustier, so it became a rule to stop it whenever they could. The other classes are field specialty and ours is the only one for people doing more than one program or close to.”

Marinette looked up at that with a  smile. “Fashion is my official program, but since I do so much business outside of school, I kept having to take classes to help out early on. I never enrolled in the program officially like Chloe did, but the school has me credited as able to graduate with both programs, so until they can justify opening another multi-program class, I’m not allowed to transfer out of the class and stay in Dupont.”

Her eyes hardened when she said, “And I’m not letting a liar and a Bustier be the reason I left the only school that’s willing to go as far as they have for me program-wise—especially not when I only have a year left.”

Damian nodded at that, deciding he’d have to sic Drake on the harlot either way… perhaps Todd and Gina too. He was feeling spiteful.

--

Marinette decided that when she meets Hawkmoth, she is not only punching him in the face, she is going to do, she doesn’t know exactly what (Tikki has a few ideas that Marinette is certain involve torture) but it will hurt.

Why?

Third akuma on a Sunday. THIRD! What is this man not doing that he was before? She wants to know since whoever freed up his time is on her list now.

Robin was being less annoying (re: tracking the akuma and leaving the minions less battered than usual) while Red Robin was helping the police evacuate affected areas with Nightwing. Somehow Red Hood got it in his head to stick with Chat for “on the job training” her team is trained asshole and she is debating how far she should go when they finish off Hawkmoth for good.

--

Monday was… interesting. The emancipation was approved—Adrien Agreste legally required no legal guardian.

When Gabriel tried to fire Gorilla, well, Adrien pointed out Gorilla had been in Adrien’s employ this whole time as mother hired and paid him from her accounts. Which transferred to Adrien when she was declared dead.

Marinette dreaded the akuma Hawkmoth might cook up using Gabriel. How he wasn’t akumatized again was anyone’s guess.

Class was…

“So last night Damiboo said—“

Marinette put her head on her desk, and decided to raise an eyebrow at a… for some reason ill-looking Damian.

“Is it because you guys share a name?”

Damian blinked.

Adrien turned around then. “Or because someone has commitment issues.”

Marinette squinted at Adrien because… “What?”

Nino sighed. “Adrien is on another MatchMaker spree.”

“ah. Who are the victims?”

“Not touching it dudette, not touching it.”

Marinette snorted. “It’s not like he’s going to match anyone with well,” Marinette gestured at herself.

“Your infamous army.”

“They are not an army.”

“How many ‘relatives’?” Nino used air quotes.

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “Well under a hundred thousand, so not an army.”

“I am counting the fans.”

Marinette scoffed. “They do not count.”

“They do, and I’m pretty sure Adrien’s fan girl army is applicable.”

“Okay, just because they made up titles and help out during akuma evacs does not make them an army—they’d need weapons training, clear chain of command, coded strategies—”

“And the fact you know this only proves my point, you have an army.”

“Who has an army?” Chloe asked as she walked over.

“Marinette.”

“I do not!”

“You do,” Chloe agreed. “Kim!” the boy looked over at that. “Marinette’s ‘family’ is a small army.”

“I, yes?” Kim’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Any one that picked her up had how many knives on them when we were kids?”

Damian turned to her with a suspicious eye.

She blushed. “Nonna’s friends.”

Damian nodded slowly.

Marinette wondered if the earth could just… swallow her up now.

--

The rest of the week was in a similar vein. Constant attacks, the batboys helping, her class being weirdly fixated on her family (they aren’t violent, just… prepared.)

Her gymnastics classes were a godsend, and her instructor was checking up on her more than usual, but that might be her more or less running her own classes and lessons as she worked out her routine, music choice, and requirements for her teammates and partners for her routines on trapeze.

Tim was around more. He got it in his head that she needed “guidance” (and okay, she does) on how to conduct corruption investigations into the whole company’s practices and staff.

Then there was Damian being… distant? She was busy but they weren’t talking as much as they were at first and fine, whatever, she got it. She’s not someone he wants to be around…. It happens.

It just… hurts a little is all.

At least she had Adrien and less secrets there. He was fixated on Damian having “commitment issues” and she thinks he’s trying to set him up with someone (Chloe maybe? Why else would he be this focused…. It’d be interesting explaining she’s pretty sure Chloe like girls better than boys and that Damian isn’t her type. At a later date—she’s too busy to now).

Then she had chores and was called in for a hearing on Bustier which was… interesting…. (her duties weren’t too bad for class president. she wasn’t making lesson plans or anything. The role model and forgiving everyone for hurting her and being told to let Lila walk all over her for years was not okay at all, but any teacher would have said that, right?)

Oh and Gina was now convinced Marinette needed protection and now semi-stalking her (Jason was weirdly close to Jason now and talking to him a lot). So random Grandma Attacks when she wanted to draw in Peace.

Lord Murder was her best stress buddy, and Gina is now well acquainted her. She was also given Gina’s Seal of Approval to take over her house for the purposes of keeping Lord Murder and staying there once her current tenants were out (no seeing it until then… unfortunately. She did get dimensions for cat things though. she may browse a bit obsessively… only a bit.)

--

Tim froze when he ran into Jason with Civilian Chat Noir. And a giant man (Gorilla). At their base. Playing videogames.

“Hey Tim, this is Adrien, Adrien, Tim. Adrien is your mini’s buddy and this is the guy that keeps the harpies away, Gorilla—yes he refuses to tell me his real name—and they’re family now. B can suck it.”

Adrien waved at him before turning back to the game. “I have no idea why he keeps saying that.”

Tim took a deep breath. Apparently adopting strays was just another Bat-thing. “So its nurture, not nature.”

Damian came out, sighed when he saw the group still there, and took a drink into his room while saying. “I did not adopt him.”

Adrien looked back at him then. “You have too many commitment issues to. Don’t worry, though, I’m good at destroying pesky problems like that.”

Tim blinked at that.

Damian sighed as they had this conversation too often now. At school and apparently, his home now. “I am not going to—”

“That’s just your fear talking—we both know that.” Adrien spoke like he was talking to a petulant child. “Why don’t you text your friends and see what they think since I already know the answer and you need more convincing.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Jon thinks you are annoying.”

“I’m a delight.” Adrien turned back to his game then.

Jason grinned proudly next to him. A bit too much like a proud parent for Tim’s comfort. (He may also be realizing his keep-his-mini-from-Damian-dating may end up in vain thanks to one Adrien Agreste(?))

--

Dick sent Bruce exactly (1) update: You are a grandpa now—Jason has a blond cat-hero son who can’t dodge.

Bruce may have had a small heart attack as now he has a magic grandson that he never met, apparently controls raw destruction, and is deeply traumatized. (It was the grandpa part that freaked him out—the rest is par for the course as Batman. He’s a Grandpa Alfred—he’s too young for his children to pull a him and adopt tiny traumatized children and train them into (heroes) vigilantes. Alfred stop laughing, he’s being serious!)

-------------

HEY so thanks for patience with the updates as life is Extra Hell now between puppy training when i'm finally home and work being Extra Hell with longer shifts and more to do during.

And before anyone asks about the peacock!marinette thing, look at the two series I have going with Bronywn as those are ongoing as my stress writes.

Any preferences for next update? Open to ideas as my mind is too stressed to do more than work off a prompt of some kind for the time being, and next to none of this story has been planned so far, so ideas are very welcome to keep it moving forward.

--

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @littleredrobinhoodlum @northernbluetongue @kceedraws @pirats-pizzacanninibles @theatreandcomicfreak @daminett4life @catthhay @weird-pale-blonde-person @amayakans @chocolatecatstheron @tired-butterfly @multplelifes @yin-390 @area51qt @toodaloo-kangaroo @bzz75 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @freshbark @soup-served-chilling @daminett4life @smolplantmum @karategirl119 @goblinwhoships @melicmusicmagic @maribat-is-lifeblood @spartanxhunterx @maribat-is-lifeblood @toodaloo-kangaroo

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 04 | thomas jefferson

 title: freedom of the press

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich --- hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

words: 13.5k

warnings: this still doesn’t go past, like, pg-13, but careful around the end -- it isn’t quite sfw even tho its not rlly nsfw. also, neo-nazi mentions, the loml monica lewinsky mentions, bunny slippers & flaming hot cheetos (hope yall can handle it gettin SPICY 🔥)

desc: you’d just moved to d.c. full time, a promotion at your publication leading to a transfer to another district chapter, and you were more than thrilled to be there, more than ready to immerse yourself in the world of politics. what you weren’t ready for, though, was how the campaign trail you were following made your heart flutter and your stomach turn. you also hadn’t expected it to be so… gaudy? magenta? – or perhaps, though you wouldn’t hear of it, that wasn’t the campaign’s effect at all.

Y/N SPENT THE following days, the next weeks, focusing on herself. She was letting herself get distracted, and with that, distracted by precisely the person she was supposed to be focusing on. It felt ironic, really, but she wasn't amused.

She spent time tapping her sources from and around the campaign trail, trying to establish a connection with other politicians who had been identified as potential candidates for the election, trying to expand her network beyond her small corner of the policy scene. ("The policy scene" was much bigger than she'd thought.)

She reached out to think tanks, to analysts, economists -- she was getting a little off track, but basically, she talked to everyone with no link to the name "Jefferson," despite the precise nature of her assignment.

Her stab at freedom from the now-former Secretary of State was to little avail. While he was the foundation of his campaign, there was enough else going on surrounding the election that she could dance around confronting him.

Yet, not for as long as she'd have liked.

She was knee-deep into finding the perfect person to cold call at Brookings when the crucial blow came.

"Y/N!" Her boss's perpetually peppy voice rang through the hall toward her office, and our fatigued heroine looked up with a brow raised. Ashley stopped in the doorway, appearing elated. "Guess what?"

Her eyes flashed with crazed excitement, and Y/N almost didn't want to ask what. It felt very much like a trick question.

In response to Y/N's expectant stare, silent and unmoving, Ashley sighed and entered. "You should be a lot more excited when I come running down to your office with a 'guess what,' y'know."

She sighed. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry! What ever exciting news could I be missing out on at this very moment?" Her contrived enthusiasm reeked of sarcasm, but Ashley's spirits were too high to be quashed, and she only rolled her eyes in response.

"So, you've been covering the Jefferson campaign for months, right?" Apparently she was ignoring the less-than-thrilled response. Y/N nodded. "And you were out in front of it before anyone else was, right? You know more than anyone else about his platform and history."

Grudgingly, she nodded again. "I suppose so." She was equally unexcited to claim to know Thomas Jefferson's past better than anyone else.

"And, he's projected to be the Republican frontrunner."

"The debates haven't even started, everything could change in a night," Y/N pointed out. "You know that."

"You're right, the debates haven't started." Y/N was clearly missing something. Ashley seemed to be unreasonably thrilled about the lack of pre-existing clash between the candidates. She raised a brow, and Ashley appeared to be holding back a squeal with how she was grinning. "But, the debates are only a few days from now, so, I called in an old contact from NBC, and of course, they'd heard of you--" She paused for dramatic emphasis, but the anticipation wasn't exactly killing Y/N, "And... since the Washington Post is co-sponsoring the event, they want to have you as one of the moderators for the first round of debates!"

With that, Y/N was struck silent. "They...?" She could only gape for a moment, and Ashley nodded excitedly.

"Mm-hmm. It's against precedent, but since you've become the most prominent and consistent reporter covering Jefferson the past few months, they think your input would be invaluable."

"But what about my live commentary?" she asked, still dumbstruck. Everything in her was telling her this was a bad idea; she needed to protest her way out. "I won't be able to provide as good of coverage of the debates if I'm not taking notes and writing during them. It'll hurt my articles. This is too big of an event not to write for."

She knew she was rambling, but Ashley only let out a sigh, as though Y/N was being absolutely ridiculous. "Oh, come on. Your commentary's more valuable on the spot if it can be used to grill the candidates and get Jefferson to talk."

"'Get Jefferson to talk'? This is a debate, not an interrogation." She blinked, visibly put-off. "Besides, it's not like I'd be controlling the floor. I wouldn't be doing much good anyway, and it really wouldn't get me much notice." She paused a moment, trying to gauge Ashley's reaction, and swallowed. "I think I should stick to my own territory."

"Y/N." Her tone was firm now. "This is the biggest opportunity you're going to get for people to notice you as a political journalist. It wasn't easy to get you this position, and besides, you're perfectly equipped for it. You've spent hundreds of hours by now researching the issues, contacting think tanks for different perspectives on them, contrasting Jefferson with the other candidates, and..." She took a thoughtful pause. "And I can't even scratch the surface of what you've been spending all this time on. If anyone should be moderating, it should be you. This isn't the time for cold feet."

Ashley had begun monologuing, and Y/N knew right there that there was no getting out of this job. It's not about getting cold feet, though, Y/N thought, I can do it, easily. What Ashley didn't know, though, was that there was more there.

The growing pause following her boss's speech was heavy with expectation, and finally, Y/N sighed, knowing she didn't actually have a choice in the matter if she cared to keep her job.

"Fine. Should I book myself a hotel in Detroit?"

"Don't bother. It'll come out of company funds; it's the least we can do."

She sighed, turning back to her computer, closing the tab she'd just opened. "Michigan, here I come."

_______________

THAT CONVERSATION HAD taken place Monday, and, as Y/N later realized, the first round of debates were that Wednesday, so she had approximately 48 hours to pack, fly, and get situated in Detroit. That evening was a whirlwind -- Ashley texted her that the flight the WaPo had booked her left at 10:00 on Tuesday morning, she immediately began her frenzied packing. Which, in turn, brings us once again to the apartment, filled with Y/N's anguish, the hair she was tearing out with stress, and clothing strewn over the carpet's full surface area.

"What do I wear, Ang? I'm gonna be on national TV, I need to look good but so, so, so professional," she wailed, looking up at her friend who was perched on the edge of her bed. Angelica gave her a sympathetic look.

"You're overthinking it, honey," she said, "No one's worried with what you're wearing, alright? It's what you say, not what you look like."

"But I'm..." She sighed, arms going slack along with the three different dresses she'd been holding up to the light, shoulders slumping. "I dunno, it's just the first time I'm gonna be that clearly in the public eye. When I'm writing I can just hide behind the words."

"The time for hiding's over." Angelica pushed herself off the edge of the bed, joining Y/N in the garment tsunami that threatened to claim her furniture. "You got the spot with the debates because people wanna hear from you, so pick an outfit. Doesn't matter which."

"But it does." Y/N looked over at her weakly, everything in her expression reading dejected, from her furrowed brow to her little pout. Angelica gave her a pointed look, and she huffed. "I just... It's not only the public, y'know? I'm also up with all the famous newscasters and the fucking Republicans, for God's sake."

"Since when do you care what Republicans think of you?"

"I..." She hesitated, considering herself. Angelica made a good point -- since when did she care? "I don't, really. I just don't want to look bad on national TV on my first gig where I'm... visible."

She pursed her lips, praying the issue wouldn't be pushed further.

Finally, Angelica huffed, beginning to pick through the pile of Y/N's clothes, seemingly resigned to the angst that deciding one outfit had apparently proved to be. With a sigh, Y/N slumped against the footboard of her bed, her dejected stare meeting the multicolored flood piling around her ankles. She carded a hand through her now-disheveled hair as she checked her phone, unable to stifle a grin at her Twitter notifications coming from all different corners of the political compass -- not to mention, now, John Adams. Her recent article on Jefferson's voting history was blowing up.

She began to respond to a tweet, nails tapping frantically against her phone screen, and though she couldn't see it, Angelica raised an eyebrow.

She let out a soft giggle as she read another response to her post: this time, the successive Secretary of State, his voice being behind her loud and clear. The feedback on her writing was only making her progressively giddy. Her smile curled with self-content, though, as she saw James Madison's message about her post, sent directly to her. Angelica raised another eyebrow.

"Y/N?" Angelica's tone bordered on cagey as it cut through Y/N's laser focus. She looked up, eyes wide. "The concerns about your outfit wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Jefferson campaign, right?"

"Well, of course they do." She blinked, unable to place the intent behind the skepticism heavy in Angelica's words. "It's the only reason I have this gig, anyway."

Angelica pursed her lips; apparently, that hadn't been quite what she was asking. "Would it have anything to do with a specific person from the Jefferson campaign?"

Y/N paled. All-too-vivid memories of the state dinner that was now months past fought their way to the forefront of her mind -- her attempts to curb them hadn't been in vain till Angelica popped the question. "I'm sorry?"

The pause that followed as Angelica examined Y/N's look of near-panic was anything but silent, both their trains of thought threatening to derail themselves with conjecture. Angelica took in a shuddering breath.

"I just mean..." Y/N could hardly bear to meet Angelica's wary gaze. "D'you have a thing for James Madison?"

The next beat that passed was simply stunned. Y/N could hardly conceal her laughter in a huff; she had to swallow her amusement, every nerve in her body immediately relaxing.

"What did you just ask me?" She shook her head, small grin breaking out across her lips as her shoulders slumped. Angelica didn't look so sure. "I am not lusting over James Madison, Ang. He's literally married."

"Marriage isn't forever, babes." She pinned her with a skeptical stare, to which Y/N could only laugh.

"I swear to you, Angelica. You will at no point see me trying to jump James Madison's bones."

"So why'd you react how you did when I asked you about the Jefferson campaign, hm?" Angelica folded her arms, plainly unconvinced, and Y/N's breath caught. She'd supposed she was off the hook.

"What do you mean?" Y/N wished the question hadn't come out so breathily.

"Y/N," Angelica started, exasperated, "You've been messaging Madison on Twitter. You've met him multiple times and have spent your fair share of hours detailing to me each of the times you've met. You were just giggling at something he sent you." She was fully deadpan by then. "You don't need to hide it, I just want you to talk to me 'bout it."

"I promise, it's not that I'm in love with Madison." Y/N's smile as she returned to packing was meant to have been placating, but functioned as anything but. She needed to get back to packing before Angelica could press the matter. "Blue or green dress?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"I'm not, but I'm gonna be on a plane in twelve hours!" she said, "I need to finish packing."

"So there's no ulterior motive to how you're approaching the Jefferson campaign?"

For a moment just long enough to evoke doubt, Y/N paused. She wasn't inclined to reminisce on the last time she'd actually talked to anyone from the Jefferson campaign, but her psyche had other priorities. A nearly undetectable chill ran down her spine -- she could still feel his heavy hands trailing down to her hips, hot breath brushing over her cheek; she could even feel the sculpt and contour of his body as it pressed against hers, muscles rippling under his stiff button-down. Her skin burned still where rough calluses had grazed her neck.

"There's no ulterior motive, Ang." She wanted her words to be true, fighting back a shudder as she bottled up the memory. "I swear."

Angelica didn't look convinced.

________________

ABOUT TEN HOURS, a mildly annoying trip through TSA (the Post had paid for her pre-check, otherwise she'd have been less forgiving of the experience -- and the line), and two hours on a plane later, she rolled into her hotel lobby in Michigan, small suitcase dragging behind her. She knew she wasn't exactly a sight to see, just off a plane at noon in her socks and sandals, her oversized sweater. She certainly wasn't feeling as high-end as her hotel appeared to be.

The high ceilings, crown molding, and arched entryways all reeked of wealth, not to mention that the space was crawling with men and women in sharp suits, appearing as though they were on the verge of being willing to cut anyone who held them up for a moment too long. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one Birkenstock to the other, waiting for the manager to return to the front desk so that she could check in. As she warily eyed the man marching through with a clipboard, aggression in each step, she had to wonder why the Washington Post had decided to drop here there, of all places.

She would've loved to disappear into her sweater, at that moment.

The manager returned to her position, looking just as sleek and professional as everyone else there, and Y/N's appearance seemed to give her pause. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, yes, I'm here to check into my hotel room for the next three nights." She gave the manager her warmest smile in an effort to diffuse some of her tense nature, but it was to no avail. "I'm here with the Washington Post, but I think it should be under the name L/N?"

Y/N waited a moment, trying to roll some of her post-travel soreness out of her shoulders as the manager typed away at the computer before her. She creased her brow, frowning for a moment. "Y/N?"

"That's me," she said, enthusiasm weak in her voice.

"Alright, you're up in room 569, so let me get you your key." She paused, rooting through drawers as her coworker appeared next to her, apparently taking a post at the next laptop over. She looked back up. "Alright, you should be all set," -- she slid the keys across the counter to Y/N -- "but it's still early, and I'm not sure your room's been checked out of quite yet. Excuse me for a moment to go see about that."

Before Y/N could say another word, she was gone, and Y/N let out a heavy sigh. It'd been a long 12 hours, and all she wanted was a proper bed and a nap. It seemed rest wasn't what the universe had in mind for her, though.

She began checking her Twitter while she stood in wait, paying no mind to the energetic bustle of who she'd worked out to be politicians and the like, given the snippets of conversation she'd picked up standing there; however, tuning out became significantly more difficult when a familiar voice sounded next to her.

"Yes, only the next three nights. The room is registered for the surname 'Madison'." If she couldn't guess from his voice, his words were a dead giveaway. She looked up, and sure enough, there was the man himself. Well, shit.

Not only was she painfully opposed to having to interact with him in her near-pajamas and slipper socks, feeling like the biggest mess she'd ever been, but she also knew that where he was, Jefferson wasn't far behind.

She immediately busied herself with something, anything on her phone, facing down and away from him in the hope that he wouldn't notice her. She'd just pulled up a scintillating article on diabetes in labradors, when--

"Y/N?" The man at the desk helping him had disappeared when she reluctantly turned to face him -- busying himself with something other than helping protect her from social interaction, apparently. James, however, looked all but amused.

"Hey, James." She did her best to return the positive sentiment he perpetually seemed to give off, but she knew it came out weaker than intended. "Should I assume I know what brings you here?"

"Should I assume that it'd be the same thing that brought you here?" He quirked an eyebrow, unable to resist eyeing her outfit. She sighed.

"That might be fair," she conceded, small smile resting on her lips. "Is the campaign all ready for the first round of debates?"

He laughed; not a polite chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh, as though he couldn't believe the question. "Something like that. We've prepared Thomas as many talking points as we could think he might need, but I'm worried the moderators--" He gave her a pointed look, wearing a knowing smile, "--may end up grilling him regardless."

A wry smile crept onto Y/N's face. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Word travels fast, especially from the Washington Post's Twitter account."

"You really are always one step ahead, hm?"

"You're the one with the questions, last I checked."

"Well, I'm sure your campaign will be thrilled to hear them -- following you is why I got the gig, anyway." She only shrugged, despite the self-content etched into her grin.

"Oh, really?" Amusement was deep-set in his smile.

She nodded. "I'm forever grateful."

"Grateful enough to go easy on Thomas?"

"Not quite," she laughed, "When following his campaign makes me my first million, then we'll talk."

"Sounds like we'll have to step it up, then."

"Running on a deadline, James," she warned him in a singsong voice, folding her arms.

"We'll win you over by the end." He grinned, turning back to the woman at the desk, handing her his credit card, and shot Y/N a sly glance. "Thomas has always loved a challenge."

Her stomach turned at his words for reasons she couldn't explain, amused smile faltering for only a moment as James slid his card back into his wallet and tucked it into his coat pocket. James raised an eyebrow at her silence, her moment of hesitation.

To her delight, that was the moment the concierge returned, wearing a wide (and contrived, but that was how customer service was) smile, stepping back up to the desktop Y/N stood before.

"Alright, your room should be all set, Ms. L/N." She returned to quickly tapping at the keyboard, before pulling out a number of brochures. "These are for room service and the various hotel amenities. Our pool is on the second floor, gym is on the third along with the spa, meeting rooms are on the fourth, and the business office is on the fifth, fully equipped with desks and printers." She hesitated, glancing with disdain down at Y/N's choice of travel outfit. "Are... you here on business? Or... ?"

As she trailed off, Y/N sighed, returning the less-than-candid customer service smile. "Yes, I am, actually. Thanks so much for everything."

She nodded. "Alright! Don't hesitate to come let us know if there's anything else you need. There will always be someone here to help you."

"Perfect." She turned back to James as she folded up the brochures, shoving them into the side pocket of her purse. "Well, sounds like I'll be seeing you around, then."

"Thomas and I look forward to it."

Then, the automatic doors of the lobby slid open, and a rush of cold air, as well as a grand entourage, made their way in, catching both of their attention. "Well, speak of the devil."

At that, Y/N realized exactly why there was such a crowd, and it became immediately clear why the Washington Post had chosen that hotel to set her down in, among the countless in the area. Thomas Jefferson had just entered, along with a bustling crowd of Secret Service and reporters, all orbiting him like he was the sun. He wore a broad grin, laughing and shaking hands, and Y/N stared for decidedly a moment too long, longer yet than James had. Her breath caught as Thomas looked over at her, and she found herself frozen, rooted to the spot, his gaze locked on hers.

Thomas, too, was stunned when she caught his eye. His pause was minuscule enough to be unnoticeable, hardly a fleeting glance that even Y/N didn't think anything of, but his self-consciousness couldn't let it go in that moment. His smile faltered for a moment, softening to become small, apologetic, and certainly more sheepish than it'd ever been, all the teasing self-content drained out of it. For the first time, she returned the smile -- tense, nervous, but real.

The flash of a camera broke their gaze, and the moment ended as quickly as it came.

_______________

Y/N CRASHED ALMOST immediately into her hotel bed upon reaching her room; she'd had less sleep than she'd have liked during the past thirty-six hours, anxiety keeping her awake. She was shaken from her long-overdue nap, though, by her phone buzzing angrily next to her. She groaned as she recognized the number as belonging to Ashley, her boss, and declined almost immediately.

After that, though, despite her best efforts, her nap seemed to have ended, and much to her dismay. She made the mistake of instead opening her email, then, deciding productivity was the obvious cure for sleeplessness -- until she opened her most recent email from Ashley. (The subject line read 'IMPORTANT, IMMEDIATE, AND URGENT.' Got any synonyms for 'redundant'?)

The oversized, highlighted body text blared at her to the point where her eyes began to water, still adjusting to the light and certainly not ready to be staring directly into all the light of the sun her boss had managed to stuff into a single communication.

There's no reason to use font size 25, she thought, rather irked, and highlighting every word in bright yellow goes entirely against the point of highlighting.

She could only bring herself to skim the message, but when she did, she groaned at its contents, falling back onto her hotel bed in annoyance. Thomas Jefferson was having another campaign rally, apparently, to garner support going into the debates. And she was being prodded to attend.

It was expected to be a small ordeal; the venue was modest, and around 100 people would be in attendance, maximum. So, she went. Grudgingly, with a full 30 oz cup of coffee, and in jeans and a tank top, but she went.

She showed up just over 20 minutes before the event -- a town hall on his policy, as it turned out. She felt a bit out of place, the look she was rocking from her hiking boots to her disheveled post-nap bun not exactly screaming 'distinguished professional,' but she liked to think throwing a blazer atop the whole look saved it.

The venue was small, homey -- she'd read that it was generally used as a comedy club, but that the space could be rented out (obviously). Y/N figured the best use of her time there was to get to know Jefferson's base of voters. Who were they? What did they care about? And, most importantly, how long could they keep her occupied so she never actually had to speak with Jefferson?

The first person she met, though, wasn't exactly a supporter.

She'd tucked herself into a back corner as everyone swarmed Jefferson, who was busy giving his opening remarks, but she was content just to record them, to reserve judgment for the time being (verbally, at least). She had the audio being taped, all but absentmindedly taking notes for herself for the debates. Yet, there wasn't much substance in most of what he was saying.

"This seat taken?"

She looked up with her eyebrows raised, surprised to have been approached. What met her was the smiling face of a vaguely-familiar Democratic reporter, and eyebrow cocked in question.

"I... No! No, please sit." She smiled, motioned to the metal folding chair beside her. "We've met before, right? Ben Arnold, New York Times?"

"That's me. And it's Y/N, yeah?" He pulled out the chair, swinging a leg around it and resting his forearms on his thighs as he looked to her. "You're from the Washington Post, the one tracking Jefferson."

She sighed. "That seems to be everyone's first reaction to meeting me, hm? Jefferson's media adversary?" Her tone was joking, but there was a certain bitterness in them at her career now being irreparably tied to Secretary Jefferson. She hoped Ben didn't take it personally. "Yeah, you've got the right girl, though."

"To be fair, you've become famous for digging up info on him that no one else seems to have." He shrugged. "I've read some of your recent stuff, since we're following the same campaign; hope you know you're famous in your own right, even if it is tied to him." He nodded toward the stage with that, just as applause broke out and Jefferson began taking questions from the crowd.

She chuckled, though it was all but mirthless. "Thanks, but I'm not so sure about that. Everyone loves gossip, and they only know me because they think I'm here to dish out the dirt on Jefferson."

"Now, that's not true." She raised a brow, and he grinned. "They follow you because you knowledgeably and eloquently dish out the dirt on Jefferson."

"Oh, that's so different." She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help her laugh at his words.

"It's true!" he protested. "C'mon, there's a reason the public has latched onto your coverage and not mine."

"I dunno about that." She pursed her lips, stifling her small smile. "I've read your writing. It's really good."

"Aw, you've looked up my writing? I'm flattered." He appeared touched, though mockingly, placing a hand on his heart and plastering on an exaggerated pout, causing her to laugh.

"Well, you did give me your business card."

He sighed, nodded sagely. "Ah yes, I suppose the media circus is easily Google-able, huh?"

"What can I say, clowns recognize clowns." Her gaze drifted back toward the stage with this, turning toward Jefferson as she cast Ben a sidelong glance. The corners of her lips quirked up. "And we are all caught in this circus, too." The pointed look she gave Jefferson at that was entirely devoid of subtlety, and Ben laughed.

"Are you claiming Jefferson as part of our circus? A bold move, Y/N."

"Good point, good point." She leaned back in her chair with a grin. "So what are we, then? Consumers taking advantage of free entertainment?"

"I dunno, we're making money off this circus." He pursed his lips. "Shit, what d'you call the people who like, run the circus?"

Her eyes widened in amusement as she looked back over at him. "What, we're the ringmasters?"

"Yeah, yeah, exactly!" She couldn't keep herself from laughing at that, the idea of Jefferson as a circus freak or a traveling sideshow too comical to entertain. He cracked a grin as well, unable to take himself seriously. "C'mon, hear me out -- he's up there playing the fool, and we're making the big bucks off of it, hm?"

"Fair enough," she conceded, grin now chronic and apparently contagious. "Anyway, what're you here for? Just general info from the town hall, or looking for something specific?"

"Well, I figured this was my chance to question Jefferson before the debates, y'know?" He nudged Y/N at that. "Or can I just pass my questions off to you for tomorrow, since I've heard you're moderating now?"

She sighed. "Word really does travel fast when Jefferson's name is attached, huh?"

"Or it's because your name's attached." She gave him a skeptical look, and he held up his hands defensively. "I'm serious! People care about what you have to say now, y'know? Given, it is about his campaign, but really, it's your take on the next election that they want -- it's no longer just about him."

Y/N had to pretend her chest wasn't swelling with pride at that. Perhaps he was just feeding her ego, talking her up because he wanted to be able to use her for sources, but it was nice to hear regardless of the motive behind it. Her small smile grew. "Well, thanks, I guess. I'll certainly take it."

"You should." He looked like he was about to continue, but his following sentence was broken off by a sudden uproar of excitement. Hollers, cheers, and applause sounded loudly from the center of the room, and they both looked over to see Jefferson exiting the podium, moving down to begin talking to the voters there to see him, and Y/N sighed.

"Guess we'd better get a move on if we want anything out of this event."

"I suppose so." He huffed as he lifted himself out of his chair, and Y/N immediately followed suit, tucking her laptop into her bag. "You headed to talk to Jefferson?"

"Nah, actually." Her gaze darted through the room as she tried to find where to begin. "Just tryna find out what his supporters care about for the election. Needa know what points I need to drive home tomorrow at the debate." He nodded, and she cocked an eyebrow. "Care to join me?"

"Think I'll have to take a rain check, unfortunately. My editor wants direct quotes from Jefferson, and this is most of my window of opportunity." He glanced over at her with a small grin as they walked together toward the center of the room. "Come find me if you get sick of the Republicans, though. I'd be more than happy to abandon Jefferson for a cup of coffee at the place around the corner."

He winked before he made off toward where Jefferson stood, and Y/N was left stunned a moment. Shit, was he hitting on her? She couldn't help it as her eyes raked over his retreating form, biting her lip as she decided that she certainly wouldn't have minded if he was. After all, even the clowns need company in the media circus.

She didn't let herself dwell, though, but instead fixed her focus on the task at hand. She floated throughout the room for the next hour or two, meeting Ben's eye in passing here and there, receiving a wry grin. A few trends emerged from Jefferson's supporters, and they were fairly generic. Russia, China, healthcare, the crushing weight of existence and the feeling that they were running out of time, fear of the impending race war, healthcare -- y'know, the usual.

(Perhaps she'd spoken to one too many alt-righters. The fact that they were at the Jefferson town hall spoke volumes.)

A few hours deep, she checked her watch, concerned about how long this would go on, leafed through her notes trying to determine whether she had enough to just jump ship, to climb into her hotel bed, order room service, and take her pants off. She glanced back up at Jefferson warily.

Her gaze traveled lazily around the room as she decided talking to one or two more people wouldn't kill her, wincing internally even as she made the decision. She braced herself for just a few more minutes of crazy.

"Y/N!"

Oh, the voice that came from her left was melodic, sounded of angels singing, of her walking miracle saving her from the political shitshow, and she turned with a smile. Walking toward her brightly was Dolley Madison, and her brows shot up as she reached her.

"Hey, Dolley, what's up?"

"Not much." She pulled Y/N for an unexpected hug, grinning as she pulled back to look at her from arm's length. Her hands still rested on Y/N's shoulders. "Fancy meeting you here, though. What are the odds?"

"Oh, so low. Especially considering my job and your marriage, who knew we'd both end up at Jefferson's town hall?" Her tone was playful as Dolley rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't gimme that. I'm just glad to see you."

Y/N laughed as Dolley finally pulled back, settling beside her. "Jesus; tell me about it. D'you know how many crazy voters I've had to pretend were completely normal in the past few hours. Even just your sanity is a breath of fresh air."

"Yeah, the American voter." Her smile was amused as she eyed the crowd. "Really gives you hope for the future of our country, hm?"

"Of course." Y/N laughed, tucking a hair behind her ears. "Comforting to know these are the people who determine our president for the next four years."

"I'm sure." Dolley glanced back up toward where Jefferson stood, James apparently now beside him making his way through the crowd. "Though, I do find a bit of comfort in the idea of Thomas being the one behind the wheel for the next four years."

"That makes one of us." Though Y/N's tone was joking, her words were dead serious, and transparently so. Dolley grinned as she caught her eye.

"Yeah?"

"I might be just a little bit biased." Y/N shrugged. "To be fair, I've spent the past four months digging up all the dirt there is on him, and reviving any and all skeletons in his many, many closets."

"Yeah, I gotcha. I keep up with your articles." Dolley winked, and Y/N could feel herself flush. The fact that Dolley Madison actively kept tabs on her writing felt like quite the honor. "Didn't think any of it was all that damning, though, to be honest."

"No, I agree with you." Y/N nodded reasonably, eyes fixed on Jefferson as he moved fluidly through the room, weaving between people and families, shaking hands, taking selfies. "And I'm glad it comes off that way, too. I try to keep the tone of my writing neutral, but as a journalist, I have to look at everything with a critical eye, y'know?"

"I've gotcha. I may be biased too, considering my husband is probably gonna be his running mate." Dolley grinned as she caught James's eye and waved to him. He was at the opposite end of the room, but he began walking toward them almost immediately.

"James may be what saves the ticket in my eyes, to be honest." Y/N returned the smile as he neared them, and turned to Dolley. "If not, though, is it too late to take you up on covering my therapy costs?"

She laughed, squeezing Y/N's forearm lightly. "I'll just have to hope James helps keep your sanity these next few months."

"What's that about Y/N's sanity?" James furrowed his brow as he reached them, a small smile resting on his lips, but his gaze full of concern.

The two women shared an entertained look before Y/N turned to James. "Just that when I lose it, the two of you had better find me a comfy asylum."

James's visible confusion deepened as Dolley's grin grew. "Don't worry about it, love. We were just discussing Y/N's writing about the campaign."

"Ah, so that's why you're losing your sanity?" He raised an eyebrow, and Y/N nodded in confirmation. "Then no worries, we'll find you the best therapist money can buy."

She let out a soft 'aw,' placing her hand over her heart. "When you do, I'll be sure to write an exposé on the generosity of the Madisons. You'd better be honored when I cross party lines for you two."

James grinned. "Abandoning partisanship for the Jefferson campaign? Never thought I'd see the day."

"You won't. It'll all be for Dolley." Y/N shot her a wink. "I'll throw all my weight behind Jefferson when Hell freezes over."

"You do so much for me," Dolley sighed dramatically, wiping away an imaginary tear as she squeezed Y/N's hand, pretending to be moved by her words. Meanwhile, James folded his arms, wearing a small smile.

"He'll see to it that that's sooner than you think."

________________

SHE ABANDONED JEFFERSON'S rally not long after, having no desire to breathe any more air that reeked so heavily of contrived charisma and shitty cologne, but having all the desire in the world to snuggle into her warm pajamas and pop open a bottle of hotel wine. After all, the debates didn't start for nearly 24 more hours.

She was about to pick up her nap from earlier right where it'd left off, but had first to piece together what she'd taken away from the rally and forward it over to Ashley. Not to mention the unfortunately necessary hours of preparation between her and the debates. She couldn't mess up her first run on TV. It was two hours and half a bottle of wine later that she sent off the culmination of her notes and recordings from the afternoon, and by the time Ashley emailed her back, it was nearly eight PM. After that, she resolved to spend no more than two hours writing and revising her questions for the following evening.

She groaned at the fourth email from Ashley -- she had too much criticism, but not nearly enough suggestion. If all my ideas are bad, Y/N thought, frustrated, why don't you have any better ones? After shooting her a response, she decided to take a well-deserved break.

At this point in the night, shame was a non-factor in her decisions, and she was far beyond caring if anyone down in the lobby was going to judge her tank top or bunny slippers. She just wanted whatever candy went best with shitty, five-dollar, red wine, and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos, and she knew the hotel's food kiosk was the most convenient place to find both.

"Wait, hold the elevator!" She only really kicked into gear when turned the corner on her floor to see the elevator's doors about to close, and she really didn't have the patience left to wait for the next one down, let alone actually take the stairs. To her delight, a hand darted out against the door at her words, and they bounced back open. She breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached them, ready to sing her mystery savior's praises -- that is, until she saw who was standing in the back of the elevator, and her eyes widened; she'd be lying if she said she didn't seriously consider braving five flights of stairs just to reach the ground floor undisturbed.

"Oh, I-- Y/N..." Jefferson's voice trailed off, surprised, as she stepped hesitantly into the elevator, keeping her distance from him even in the small space. "Hey."

"Secretary Jefferson." She only acknowledged him, not meeting his eyes as the elevator doors finally closed. He glanced over at her with an eyebrow raised at that, though, almost surprised that 'Thomas' had somehow reverted to 'Secretary Jefferson' in just the past few weeks, but he couldn't pretend he didn't know why -- that was why he didn't say a word about it, especially since they both knew, and both wanted to deny, that they couldn't help but still think about the last time they'd met. The tension was heavy in the growing silence.

She could feel his gaze over her shoulder, could see him out of the corner of her eye, but she was determined not to catch his eye, looking instead firmly down to her phone screen, responding to Angelica and Alex's texts from earlier in the day (keeping her brightness down, though, so he couldn't see those, either). She swallowed thickly as he looked back up, biting her lip as she glanced over at him. She looked back down for a moment, anxious in the deafening silence, eyes unfocused but toward her phone screen, but she figured she was safe to sneak another glance at him -- apparently, he'd made the same calculation.

She froze as their eyes met, breath catching in the back of her throat and heat rushing to her face, and he only smiled, waiting to see if she would make the next move. She was determined to ignore him, but it appeared as though she'd been caught. He held her gaze a moment as the elevator descended; it appeared she wouldn't be the first to speak.

She bit her lip, looking up at him as his eyes traveled down her form, grin widening as he caught sight of her pajama pants and slippers, and he raised a teasing brow. "Harry Potter? Really?"

She glanced self-consciously down at her Deathly Hallows pants, her face growing hotter by the second, and she looked back up at him weakly. "They're good books, okay?" she said, tone defensive as she folded her arms, fixed her gaze back on the elevator doors before them, and he chuckled.

"You won't hear me arguin' with that." He had to choke back another laugh as she rolled her eyes, letting out a nearly-inaudible huff. "Aw, c'mon, I'm just teasin'."

She scowled as she looked up at him, feeling more-than-flustered and far from entertained. "What do you want from me, Jefferson?"

He quirked up a brow at her. "Really?" He paused, seemingly in disbelief, and she shook her head blankly at him, waiting for him to continue. "We just never gonna talk about that state dinner, then?"

Her face was now burning; she couldn't meet his eye. He'd finally pointed out the elephant in the room, and for once in her career, it didn't happen to be the one that belonged to the GOP. Just the one that had decided to sit directly on her ego and crush her spirit. "I certainly wasn't planning on bringing it up."

He sighed. "C'mon, Y/N." She didn't look up. "Alright, fine, pretend it didn't happen. But I just wanted to say that--"

That was the exact moment the elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor, catching both of their attention immediately. He cut himself off as the doors began to open. As they caught sight of the numerous people standing before them in the lobby, waiting to get onto the elevator, he glanced back down at her to find her looking up at him, biting her lip but her expression unreadable.

"Some other time, Secretary Jefferson."

She exited the elevator without another word, and he did the same, although slow to follow suit. He didn't continue after her; he couldn't see the point. There was no way he'd be able to have that conversation with her in a lobby full of politicians, but his stare was still attached to her as she left. He really didn't know what to make of her -- but he intended to figure it out.

________________

THE NEXT EVENING was the first night of the debates. To be quite candid, to Y/N, nearly the entire night was a blur. She'd gotten ready with a series of emails to her boss and with Angelica on Facetime, helping her strike the perfect balance of femininity and professionalism (it'd proved to be a tough line to walk), and arrived at the venue hours early as per her official instruction. She steeled herself for the ordeal, determined to ignore any lingering tension between her and Jefferson. She had a job to do there, and she intended to do it right. After the debate, once she began to remove her microphone and slowly make her way out, she avoided him at all costs -- even if the confrontation was inevitable, with the unfortunately large overlap between their lives, it was neither the time nor the place, and she intended to put it off as long as possible.

Chatter filled the room behind her. Everyone who had shown up to watch the debates live was now slowly filing out, apart from groups here and there of stragglers or of people who wanted to approach the candidates afterward. She handed her microphone off to a tech intern with a warm smile and a 'thank you,' collecting her notes before she went backstage to retrieve her coat. (Michigan winters, she'd learned, were brutal.)

She shuffled everything back into her folder, glancing at the crowd behind her, when she caught sight of a familiar face. She furrowed her brow and squinted. She paused, considering whether to go down to greet him -- she hardly knew him, after all -- but he beat her to the punch. He waved, beckoned her over when he caught her eye, and warily, she obliged.

"Hey, it's Lafayette, right? We met at the state dinner; I'm Alex's friend, Y/N."

He grinned as she reached him, clutching her papers to her chest and extending a hand in greeting, which he took without hesitation. "Oui, I remember. It is good to see you, Y/N, although Alexander neglected to mention zat you would be moderating ze debates."

"Oh, what, didn't he tell you how important I am?" She shrugged, shaking her head with a grin as though it was obvious. "Next I'm coming for Anderson Cooper's job, just you wait."

He laughed, folding his arms as he glanced up toward the stage. "I do not doubt it for even a moment. Are you moderating again tomorrow night?"

She nodded. "Mhm. You coming tomorrow night?"

"Oui. I came all ze way to Michigan for zis; it would be a shame if I was only 'ere for one night, hm?" He raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged, nodded. He flashed her a sly grin. "Besides, since I now know zat you are going to be 'ere tomorrow, zat gives me all ze more reason to show up."

Her breath hitched a moment, before she laughed nervously, running a hand through her hair. "Ah, yes, can't miss my political commentary and passive aggression for two hours onstage. Isn't that your idea of a perfect Thursday night?"

"More or less." His smile was sharp, his gaze all but wolfish for a moment, and a chill ran down her spine before his expression softened. "Would it be against your ethics as a journalist to tell me which of ze candidates you are supporting?"

Y/N shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not a fan of any of them at the moment, but we'll see how it shakes out after the second night of debates. After all, the candidates are only human, so I've gotta find a way to look past the skeletons in their closets."

Lafayette raised a wary eyebrow, looking concerned. "Ze 'skeletons in their closets'?" he repeated, and she cracked a grin.

"Yeah, like the bad things from their past?"

He stared at her, expression deadpan. "I am from France. You will 'ave to forgive me zat we do not use murder as an idiom for all wrongdoings."

She couldn't help her laugh at that, covering her mouth with her free hand. "Cut me some slack; I've grown up with it."

He raised his eyebrows. "With murder?"

"No! With the English language!" she defended, laughing, and he couldn't stifle his grin any longer.

"My apologies, chérie. I could not 'elp myself." He held up his hands in his defense, and she rolled her eyes. "Is it safe to assume you are not voting for any of ze candidates zat 'ave murdered anyone?"

She shook her head, amused. "Yeah, that's a fair guess."

"I am glad to 'ear it." He paused a moment, grinning as he nodded to someone behind her, and she raised a brow. She glanced over her shoulder to see none other than Thomas Jefferson approaching, headed down the same stairs she'd taken to reach Lafayette several minutes before, and she groaned internally. Just her luck. Would it be rude to immediately run the moment he reached where she was standing? "Thomas! 'Ow 'ave you been?" Lafayette immediately pulled him into a hug as he reached the pair of them, greeting him like an old friend, and Jefferson pulled back with a small smile of his own.

"Gotta say, I've been worse," he said, "Especially when you weren't here. Spendin' all that time over in France, abandonin' us." He put a hand on his heart, shaking his head with a playfully mournful frown, and Lafayette rolled his eyes.

"Oui, I am sure I was sorely missed." He huffed, shaking his head, and Jefferson cracked a grin. "I left you with an open invitation to come and visit me whenever you pleased, and you never came. I did not feel particularly missed, Monsieur Jefferson."

"Ah, I'll find a way to make it up to you." He shot Lafayette a wink, and in the midst of the interaction, Y/N considered just silently slipping away. They seemed to have forgotten she was there, and if there was ever a time to escape, it was right then. She hesitated. "Though, you never came to visit me back in D.C., either," Jefferson pointed out to his friend, who scoffed, "So who's really to blame?"

"I resent ze accusation, Thomas. I was busy. I am a very important person with very important things to do, and I simply could not find ze time. I tried to visit you, but alas, ze people of France must come first." He sighed dramatically, his entire proclamation made in jest. Jefferson rolled his eyes.

"You implyin' I'm not doin' anything down in D.C.? That hurts, Laf, really."

Lafayette grinned. "Of course not."

It was then that Y/N began to back away from the pair, seemingly forgotten in their enthusiastic greeting, and she figured that she'd be able to escape without a problem. Just after she began to turn, though, Lafayette spoke.

"Ah, Thomas, you know Y/N, hm?" She froze at that. Her retreat no longer seemed as secure as it had previously. His tone was jovial as he motioned to her, and she reluctantly turned back around to face them. "Obviously, from zis," --He motioned to the stage, and Y/N met Jefferson's eyes warily-- "but ze two of you met at ze state dinner, non? With Alex?"

Jefferson seemed to be taking his cues from Y/N at that point, watching her with raised brows as she sighed, plastering on a smile as she turned to Lafayette. "Yeah. Yeah, we've met."

What followed that was a momentary silence. Lafayette had obviously detected rigidity of the interaction, but he hadn't quite figured out what to do with it, and Y/N wasn't at all inclined to force the conversation to happen. She had no interest in making small talk with Jefferson. Lafayette cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at Jefferson, who sighed.

"Yeah, a couple of times now," Jefferson added tiredly. "State dinner wasn't the first."

"Oui? When else?"

Y/N and Jefferson shared a tired glance. The whole interaction was painfully out of character for both of them, their actions and words forced, and while neither of them seemed up to carrying the conversation, it certainly seemed Lafayette was doing his best.

"Just, through work, Lafayette. Nothing all that exciting. I've been covering his campaign for a while now, so by the state dinner, we'd already met once or twice," Y/N explained, offering Lafayette a weak smile. "Y'know, exciting stuff."

"Actually, about the state dinner." Both Y/N and Lafayette were surprised when Jefferson spoke up once again, instead of just letting the conversation entirely drop. She was concerned as to where this was going. "I just," he paused, meeting her eyes, "wanted to apologize, if I ever made you uncomf--"

"Don't worry about it, Secretary Jefferson," Y/N cut him off abruptly with a sigh before plastering on an understanding (obviously forced) smile. He raised his eyebrows. "It's fine; it was a mistake. And this really isn't the time or the place. We can... talk about this later." She huffed, clutching her papers even more tightly against her chest. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't hide how flustered she was.

He paused, searching her expression, clearly not quite believing her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled stiffly.

"Alright," he sighed. He made pointed eye contact with her, squaring his shoulders. His gaze was determined if not frustrated. "We will talk about this some other time. See you around, Lafayette, Y/N." He nodded to both of them, holding Y/N's gaze for just a moment too long, his expression steely. She could feel her heartbeat in her head; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and he turned and left. Lafayette and Y/N both stayed there a moment longer, frozen to the spot and stunned for entirely different reasons.

There was a skip, before Lafayette broke the silence.

"What happened at ze state dinner?" Lafayette asked, turning to her, but she didn't even hear him. She was still fixated on Jefferson's parting words. Her heart was in her throat as she watched him retreat. Jesus, fuck.

We will talk about this.

___________________

Twitter

@gilafayette started following you.

Y/N raised an eyebrow from where she sat on her hotel bed. The debates were only a few hours away.

@Y/N_L/N: As the second night of Republican primary debates nears, keep up with the biggest issues and the who's-who of the candidates with the Washington Post's recent article about night 1 of the debates. Join us tonight on the official live stream, co-sponsored alongside NBC, and hear it all firsthand from the candidates themselves.

Quoted article: https://www.washingtonpost.com/fakelink/clowns

@BenArnold started following you.

Replying to @Y/N_L/N: @BenArnold: or you could just read my recap, but to each their own ig

She rolled her eyes at the tweet, though smiling to herself. She considered replying to it, but then thought better of it -- his tweet was so clearly in jest, and it was too easy to misinterpret tones over the internet. She opted to like the tweet.

@JamesMdson retweeted your recent tweet.

New message from @A_Hamilton:

@A_Hamilton: wanna grill jefferson about our war debts with france tn???

@A_Hamilton: i could even write u the questions

@A_Hamilton: wait omg open it up to audience questions and claim it's from someone else if u don't wanna attribute it to urself

@A_Hamilton: Suzie from Mississippi asked: why the fuck would you decide not to engage in France's war as secretary of state, not even try to assist them when we HAD the funds and they'd just helped us in our war, and then oppose an improved centralized banking system so that we could unilaterally balance the national budget, asshole?

@Y/N_L/N: have u been drinking again

@A_Hamilton: ok ok hear me out. like he wouldn't suspect a thing!!!! he doesn't even know we're friends why would it b me

@A_Hamilton: wait shit we saw him at the state dinner

@A_Hamilton: fuck nvm just pin the question on lafayette as a bitter french diplomat

@Y/N_L/N: alex.

@Y/N_L/N: i swear to god, you are the ONLY voter THAT invested in our debt to france

@Y/N_L/N: isnt it just like a trade deficit, anyway??

@A_Hamilton: YES THATS THE PROBLEM

@A_Hamilton: he can't even deal w our relations with one of our oldest allies, he was a shitty secretary of state

@Y/N_L/N: clean up the language and ill lead the conversation there

@Y/N_L/N: it's not a completely shit idea

@A_Hamilton: ur the only reporter that matters ily

✅ Read, 5:27 PM.

@gilafayette wants to send you a message. Accept?

@gilafayette: what happened at the state dinner between you and thomas

@gilafayette: i tried to ask him but he is very evasive

@gilafayette: i am concerned about him since then

Y/N's eyes widened as she accepted the message. She'd expected it to just be dropped, for Lafayette to entirely let it go, as it truly wasn't his problem, but there she was. She raised a brow at the last message, though.

Messages to @gilafayette:

@Y/N_L/N: it was nothing important, but why are you concerned about him??

@gilafayette: he has been acting strange since we saw you

@gilafayette: he and i went for coffee and he was preoccupied for the whole time

@gilafayette: and when i tried to ask him he was being very evasive

@Y/N_L/N: it really wasn't anything monumental. hes probably preoccupied w/ the debates, don't read into it

@Y/N_L/N: have u tried just asking him what's on his mind?

@gilafayette: brb

She rolled her eyes at the message. Of course he hadn't even thought to consider the obvious solution: communication. There seemed to be a disconnect between Lafayette and the obvious, though..

Messages to @gilafayette:

@gilafayette: he says he is fine and not to worry

@gilafayette: but i worry

@Y/N_L/N: did he say what was on his mind

@gilafayette: no

@gilafayette: brb i will tell him you asked. perhaps he only does not want to talk to me.

Her pulse skipped as she read the message; her eyes widened. Shit.

@Y/N_L/N: no lafayette pls don't say that

@Y/N_L/N: i didn't ask. i just wanted to give you a better idea for what to ask.

@gilafayette: yes you told me to ask

@gilafayette: exactly

@gilafayette: what is the difference?

She let out a groan, burying her face in her hands. This whole interaction felt so middle-school to her. Y/N said to ask Lafayette to ask Thomas if he's still thinking about her!

@Y/N_L/N: please lafayette just keep me out of this

@Y/N_L/N: don't wanna get involved in ur relationship with him. if i wanted to ask him something id do it on my own time

@gilafayette: wait he has just responded

@Y/N_L/N: so you still sent the message???

@gilafayette: it was too late, i am sorry!

@Y/N_L/N: what did he say??

@gilafayette: "if she wants to know, tell her to ask me herself"

@Y/N_L/N: lafayette i stg

@Y/N_L/N: please tell him this was just a misunderstanding and it wasn't MY question!!

✅ Read, 5:49 PM.

She groaned, letting herself fall back onto her bed as she saw the read receipt. Just her luck.

@Thomas_Jefferson wants to send you a message. Accept?

Oh, fuck. She didn't want to open the message, but at the same time, she was desperate to see what he had sent. In the midst of her internal struggle, it occurred briefly to her that if she didn't just open the message, he'd find some way to confront her about it in person that night, and -- to her dismay -- her mind was made up.

Messages to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Thomas_Jefferson: did you really just avoid every time i tried to talk to you abt that night and then ask lafayette what was on my mind???

@Thomas_Jefferson: im going to come talk to you after the debate tonight. don't leave the building.

✅ Read, 5:56 PM.

________________

WITH JEFFERSON'S WORDS still in mind, Y/N fled the second night of debates the moment she could cut loose, calling an Uber before they even gave her the go-ahead to leave, not having a second to waste.

She caught his eye on the way out, him surrounded by three campaign staffers and James Madison, and he raised an eyebrow at her. The intimation was obvious: wait up for him.

She broke the eye contact immediately, shaking her head lightly. She had a blue Toyota Camry and a driver named Mandy to find out on the snow-coated street, and she was off long before he had even a chance to try to follow her.

She'd assumed the ordeal was over. She thought it was over with, that she'd somehow managed to escape scot-free, and that she'd managed to avoid Jefferson privately confronting her once and for all.

Boy, was she wrong.

She spent her final evening in the hotel carefree, drafting the second night's article as Lizzo played in the background. She'd packed most of her things, aside from the previous night's bottle of wine and the second pack of Flaming Hot Cheetos she'd bought with her future self in mind (she was patting herself on the back for that one, of course).

She strolled over to the business office on her floor with a pen in her mouth, still humming along to her long-abandoned music, as Ashley had requested that she fax over her handwritten notes from both nights of debates -- she'd called down to the front desk to ask first if they had a fax machine. She hadn't intended to get out of bed if she didn't have to.

Balancing her notes across the keyboard of her laptop in one arm, she opened the door to the office, eyes still fixated on the screen of her computer as she pushed the door with her shoulder. When she looked up, she was met with more than just a printer and a fax machine.

His nose was no longer buried in the book he held on his lap, seemingly distracted by the sound of the door opening, and he had his sweatpant-clad legs propped up on the desk before him, his glasses discarded on the table next to him. She froze when their eyes met.

"Y/N," Jefferson said, looking as stunned as she felt. She blinked. A beat passed. She almost responded, before she remembered the pen she still held in her mouth, continuing into the room and letting the door click shut behind her so that she could put her papers down. "Shit, uh... I can leave if you need the room, or--"

"No, no, you're fine." She finally took the pen out from between her teeth, withdrawing her papers from her laptop, closing it atop the desk. "But I can, ah, come back, if--"

"No, 'course not." He gave her a soft grin, fiddling with the page of his book. "Seems like you're the only one who actually needs the room, anyway."

She returned his smile, though hesitantly, feeling awkward to be alone with him in the small space. "Thanks."

She began shuffling her papers into the fax machine one by one, and the silence grew heavy. She tried not to feel the need to fill it. Yet--

"What brought you here, anyway?" She glanced back at him over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised and found his gaze still trained on her. She shifted her weight, and he chuckled.

"Just tryin' to escape."

She furrowed her brow, not sure if she understood, and another moment passed as she fed her last paper into the fax machine. Now she just had to play the waiting game (which was unfortunately long, considering the number of papers Ashley demanded). "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, lifting his feet off the desk's edge as he leaned forward to rest his forearms atop his legs. "Just needed a moment to myself. I'm sharin' my room here with James, and since I started runnin' for president it hasn't been easy to find some time alone."

She nodded, glancing down at the book in his hand, and grinned. "And you're spending that time reading?"

"You got any better ideas for me?" He raised a playful eyebrow when she turned to lean against where the wraparound desk met the back of the incredibly small room. She only shrugged.

"Could spend this time cleaning up your entire political platform," she suggested, and he laughed.

"Now you're just baitin' me."

"Never!"

He rolled his eyes as he turned the office chair to face her. "Now tell me why I don't believe you."

"Beats me." She plastered on an innocent smile, ultimately pursing her lips, though, to stifle her grin.

"Mhm." He shook his head in amusement, wide grin adorning his lips as he looked down once again, thumbing the nearest page of his book. Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Whatcha reading?"

"Nietzsche." He held up the book, showing her the name scrawled across the cover and the spine.

"Zarathustra? Really?" She eyed the book with a wary gaze, and his eyebrows shot toward his hairline, amused.

"Don't tell me you've read it?"

"It seems we have annoyingly similar taste in literature, Secretary Jefferson." She grinned. "Can I get past you to the printer real quick?"

"Hm? Oh, 'course." He glanced over his shoulder, standing and taking a step over immediately as he realized the chair was situated directly in front of where she needed to be. She thanked him softly as she moved past him to collect her newly-inked papers. There was a skip; he hesitated.  "So it's back to Secretary Jefferson now, huh?"

She looked over to where he stood beside her, eyebrows raised and heat creeping up the back of her neck. The look in his eyes was expectant, but not demanding. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said, wearing a small, almost comforting smile, and she couldn't help but return it, before he added with a grin. "Thomas is better, though."

Despite the amusement in his eyes and the mischief dancing in his smile, Y/N let out a sigh as she pushed herself onto the counter beside the fax machine. "I'm sorry, I really just--"

"I know. 'M sorry. We don't have to get into it, if you don't wanna."

She paused as she met his eyes. The understanding tone he was taking now felt like a far cry from how he'd been earlier in the day, but sitting alone with him in that hotel business office after hours, both of them out of their suits and into their sleepwear, joking about his reading material, she felt like she was just then seeing him clearly. "I..." She gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

"You never responded to my message on Twitter, though," he continued, a grin once again breaking across his face, and she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "C'mon, don't pretend, I saw that you read it."

"Lafayette was out of line!" she defended, "God, he was asking for advice on what he should say to you because he was worried, and somehow I became his advisor, and I literally just told him to ask you what was wrong. I wasn't trying to pry after avoiding you the past few days."

"I kinda figured, after Laf's next couple messages. Basically told me you were chewin' him out for askin' that," he laughed, but raised an eyebrow as he met her eyes. "But you admit you were avoidin' me, though, huh?"

"I--" She paused, mouth open to respond, and eyebrows raised, but she didn't know how to respond. The question caught her entirely by surprise. "I guess so, yeah."

Her face burned as he chuckled lightly, and she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She bit her lip, folded her arms across her chest. "Don't act like it's some big confession, now; it was kinda obvious. You said all of three words to me in the elevator, shut me down when you were talkin' to Lafayette, and then today, at the debate?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly enjoying watching her squirm. She didn't look up at him. "Now, that was the most obvious of all. You read my message, made direct eye contact with me, and then were still the first one outta the building. You aren't subtle, sweetheart."

She sighed, crossed her ankles where she sat on the counter, and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I guess that's fair," she sighed, finally looking up at him, and he didn't say a word, waiting for her to continue. He cocked an expectant eyebrow. "Just, after the state dinner, and what happened -- or really, what almost happened," she sighed, and the corners of his lips quirked up. "I really didn't wanna talk to you, or know how to, and I'm sorry, I just-- What would I have said? What was I supposed to say? 'So, I know I, like, almost let you kiss me three weeks ago, but now I'm gonna grill you about fiscal policy on national television! Isn't that fun?'" She plastered on an exaggerated smile, mocking the hypothetical, and he laughed.

"That would've been a good start." She rolled her eyes, bit her lips, and his smile softened. "Could've at least let me talk to you, though."

She sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I should've, but I think I just scared myself into thinking talking to you meant my immediate demise."

"Now, that offends me a little," he teased, "I'm nothin' if not approachable, and I don't like hearin' you suggest otherwise."

She pursed her lips as she met his eyes. "Oh, of course. The Republican presidential frontrunner, who's always surrounded by people much more important than me, and is never seen in public without an entourage. The easiest to talk to." He didn't comment on the thinly veiled confession of insecurity contained in her dry sarcasm, but instead raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't I?" His tone, his wide grin both seemed to suggest that he was joking, but something in how he looked at Y/N made her breath catch.

"Yeah," she said, softly, "I guess you are." She swallowed, looking down at her feet, and the only sound reverberating through the little room was the cranking of the aging fax machine that still held her notes. The hush that fell over them only stretched on.

"Can I just--"

"I wanted to--"

They both looked up at once, though, voices overlapping as they chose the same moment to break the silence, and Thomas grinned. Y/N let out a light laugh. "You can go first."

"Yeah?" he asked, hesitant. She nodded, shooting him a wink.

"The floor is yours."

"Much appreciated." They shared an anticipatory glance, the tension in the room magnified by the close proximity the little space had pushed them into. They weren't even feet apart. "Anyway, I just, at least, wanna apologize."

Y/N quirked up an eyebrow. "What for?"

"The state dinner." She sighed heavily, raking a hand through her hair, and he continued, "C'mon, don't pretend there's nothin' to talk about there. I can't let myself ignore it, so I'm sorry." She bit her lip, trying to keep herself from squirming under his gaze, afraid to break the eye contact as he searched her expression. "Seemed like I scared you that night, and I wanna make sure I didn't make you feel unsafe, or uncomfortable, or... Just felt like I put you in a bad position, or made you feel like you couldn't leave because of me, since I was still the Secretary of State and all, and..." He trailed off as he saw Y/N raise an amused eyebrow, failing to stifle a grin at his words, and hardly stifling a laugh. He huffed, but there was no real frustration behind his smile. "Gimme a break, it's happened!"

"What, you've cornered other hot reporters in your office and leveraged your title against them?" she teased, and he rolled his eyes, cracking a grin.

"I usually go for hot Congresswomen, but none were around, so I figured you'd have to do."

"You've tried to stick it on Nancy Pelosi?" she asked in mock disbelief, and he laughed, carding a hand through his hair, "Can I quote you on that?"

"May wanna keep it off the record, just this once." He winked, and she couldn't help her light huff, playful disappointment mingling with amusement. He pursed his lips. "But seriously, Y/N, hope I didn't scare you."

"No sweat, Thomas, I don't scare easy." She gave him a soft smile, and he raised a brow, surprised to hear her using his first name again, but he held his tongue. She swallowed thickly, realizing it at the same time. "I'm not about to become your Monica Lewinsky, if that's what you're worried about -- you didn't put me in any position I didn't wanna be in." Her last few words had even her taking pause, surprised at having said them aloud. It felt more like a confession than a reassurance, and with that, Thomas's brows shot toward his hairline, and a small smirk rested on his lips. Y/N could feel her heart in her throat as she waited for him to respond.

"'I didn't put you in any position you didn't wanna be in,' huh?" he repeated slowly, his smug smile growing as her eyes slowly began to widen; she didn't like watching him take pleasure in this.

"I--" She cut herself off as he took a step toward her, pushing herself further back where she sat on the edge of the desk. "Yeah," she breathed, worried that her heart would beat out of her chest if she said much more.

"So--" One of his hands landed beside her on the desk as his stare became increasingly self-contented, "What if you ended up in that position again, hm?" His other large hand came to rest on her right knee; he was now hovering just inches above her, and her pulse threatened to stop altogether as she looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Thomas," she said softly, biting her lip, and she couldn't help but notice him track the movement, his gaze falling momentarily to her mouth. His hand lifted from her knee to her jaw, brushing a hair away from her face before running his thumb along her cheekbone, cupping her cheek. "What are you doing?" she asked, breathlessly.

"This time, is it a position you don't wanna be in?" he asked, the hand that previously sat on the desk now meeting her waist, pulling her closer to him. Something about his smile told her that he was confident in what her answer would be. He raised an eyebrow.

"What..." Her voice faltered as he pulled her into him, her legs now straddling his waist from atop the desk, and she prayed he didn't catch it when her gaze fell to his lips, if only for a moment. (The way he grinned told her he'd definitely caught it.) He stilled millimeters away from her lips, and the movement wasn't even conscious as her arms wrapped around his neck. "Thomas."

He smiled, his nose brushing against hers, and he couldn't help that his grin grew when she shivered at the contact. "Y/N," he whispered, too close even to make out her full face, but he could see every detail of her shining eyes clearly, could trace every ridge of her lips.

She was terrified. Every nerve in her body seemed to be standing on end, and she could feel everything. Even the slightest movements made her pulse jump -- the pads of his fingers digging into her waist, his breath as it fluttered across her cheek, him pulling her impossibly closer, yet still, not quite close enough. She swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. "Kiss me."

He obliged her immediately, his hand gripping her jaw as his lips moved against hers, and she reacted in the same moment. One of her hands weaved itself into his hair, while the other sank into the back of his old college t-shirt. His tongue pushed insistently past her lips, and she arched against him in an effort to pull him ever closer, pushing herself toward the edge of the desk. His hand slid down to hook itself under her thigh, and his grip tightened on her leg as she sighed against him. He nipped at her bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth, but nearly lost it when he yanked at her hair, and she let out a soft, needy whine against his mouth -- the kiss immediately became harsher, faster; in seconds it was all teeth and tongue. Y/N didn't know when his lips had begun to trail down her neck, didn't realize his hands began to tug at her shirt until she felt his fingers brush against her stomach, and she shuddered. She gasped as he scraped his teeth over the base of her neck, sucking a hickey into the skin, and she rolled her hips involuntarily up against his. He groaned against her.

"Fuck," she whispered as his hands finally breached the hem of her shirt, pressing into the bare skin of her waist, and she dragged her nails down across his back, feeling his muscles rippling in his shoulders as he pulled her harshly against himself.

"Shit, sweetheart." She yanked at his hair, began kissing along his jawline, grinding her hips persistently up against his. "Y/N," he groaned, his nails beginning to dig directly into her hips. Her movements faltered a moment. She swallowed.

It must have been then that she came to her senses. She couldn't have placed exactly when, or why she broke it off, but it must have been when she heard her name out of his mouth, against her skin, when she realized exactly where she was. She pulled back from him, gasping for air, her hands against his chest, and he raised his eyebrows.

"What...?" he breathed, equally winded, "What's wrong? Did I do somethin'?"

Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, shaking her head slowly, but her expression was despairing, the gravity of the situation just then beginning to sink in.

"I..." She trailed off, letting out a huff as she ran a hand through her hair, "No, no, it... it's not you, but..." She pulled further back, pushing him gently away as she broke out of his grasp. The look in his eyes was worried, but more so disappointed. "We can't do this, Thomas. Fuck, this was a mistake. What were we thinking? I just--"

She groaned softly, burying her face into her hands before hopping off of the desk, scrambling to collect her laptop and her papers. His eyes widened as she began to rush to leave the room.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart!" He grabbed ahold of her arm as she began to turn away, and she yanked it from his fingers. "Y/N, c'mon, wait a minute."

"This can't happen! Don't you get it?" she said. "This was so fucking stupid. I'm a political journalist, Thomas, and you're running for President, for God's sake! Can you imagine what would happen if we hooked up? If that somehow leaked?"

"Wait, be reasonable--"

"I'd become the next fucking Monica Lewinsky, and there goes your campaign, and there goes my career. Next I get accused of biased reporting, and you get accused of foul play with the media." She shook her head, shuffling her papers together as she turned to leave. "I'm sorry. I... I'm so sorry, this was such a mistake."

"Y/N." His voice was steady, but firm. "Listen to me: no one's losin' their career, no one's life is shatterin' because of this. Relax, darlin'. Leave if you want to, but relax. I'm not gonna try to make you stay."

She hesitated as he rested his hands on her biceps, as they ghosted down her arms. He smiled. "Don't get me wrong, you're more than welcome to stay, but I won't hold it against you if you don't."

"I can't do this, Thomas," she breathed, and he chuckled. Despite his small smile, and despite what genuinely were his best efforts, disappointment clouded his gaze, and he did a poor job of hiding it.

"Okay. Then go." His voice was soft, gentle. "If you ever change your mind, though, just know that I'm the only one with access to my Twitter messages. You know how to reach me if you want to." He grinned as he said that, and Y/N’s eyes widened. Did he just offer himself up as a booty call?

The thought had her breath hitching in the back of her throat. The look in his eyes told her that he was being perfectly sincere.

"I'm sorry,” she finally said, voice only just above a whisper, and he nodded.

"Don't worry about it.” There was a skip. “I'll see you soon, Y/N.”

“Bye, Thomas.” She held his gaze a moment longer, struggling to bring herself to leave, but knowing she couldn’t stay. He sent her a wink, and she finally began to move.

She was out the door without another word, her breathing shaky as she rushed back to her hotel room. She was desperate to immediately open her phone, to text Angelica or Alex, but shit, if that wouldn't ruin her life. Angelica would find some way to convince her to quit her job, or somehow weasel her way out of her assignment on the 2020 election, and Alex would be worse yet -- he'd take it straight back to Thomas and confront him.

She groaned into her hands as she walked into her bathroom. A cold, cleansing shower was what she needed at that moment. The first thing she saw as she walked into the bathroom, though, was a deep purple hickey, at the base of her neck; she'd be covering that up for weeks, she thought as she drew closer to the mirror, running a hand over it as she examined the area. Yet, it also left her with several 'what if's -- what if she hadn't stopped it? What if she were to let this happen? What if, for once in her life, she stopped worrying, let herself live, took a risk?

What if she'd decided to stay?

She met her own eyes in the mirror as she entertained the thought, and she swallowed roughly.