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ptersparkers · 4 years

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the art of eating pussy (5)

summary: upon realizing you lack skills in the bedroom when a touron asks you out on a date, you turn to jj, a self-proclaimed sexual deviant, for help.

warnings: smut, y’all.

notes: i haven’t been in the right headspace to right recently and wanted to give my reads something of quality and substance, not something to rush just for satisfaction. behold, chapter five.

co-authored and co-written with @storiesbymads. SHOW MY WIFE SOME LOVE.

add yourself to my taglist + series masterlist

JJ’s hung up.

You’d been spending less time at the Chateau in favor of spending time with Trent since it was the last week that he’d be on the island. His mind was racing, conflicted with the thoughts of your mouth on Trent and his lips on your neck. The night of the party had been the worst moment of the week and his jaw hurt from clenching by the time he ended up crashing out on John B’s couch. JJ always drank to forget and that night wasn’t an exception.

He knew it wasn’t just about sex with you anymore. It wasn’t about the opportunity for him to get off by the hand of someone else. It wasn’t about him taking advantage of you. There was nothing complicated about the two of you in the bedroom.

But outside of the bedroom, JJ’s head was spinning every time you said goodbye or forced him out the door because your parents were home. He didn’t have to think when he was with you; JJ knew what you wanted and knew what to expect. He knew that his time alone with you was the product of these lessons but that didn’t mean he had to think of this time as anything but passionate. When his tongue wasn’t down your throat, he was thinking about the tight feeling in his chest that left him wondering what was going to happen once you told him it was over because he didn’t want this to end.

JJ hadn’t thought about the lessons ending until he saw you tucked underneath Trent’s arm at the party. This whole situation wasn’t friends with benefits and he knew it, which is why it messed with his head so much. Yes, there was the whole “no strings attached” ordeal, but this wasn’t just one of you calling the other for sex. This was much more complicated. You were one of JJ’s best friends but the only difference is you’d seen him naked, intentionally.

His thoughts are preoccupied with the idea that once the lessons end, you might still be with Trent despite him no longer being on the island. JJ would have to go back to being just friends and he’d have to pretend that he never saw you naked. He’d have to pretend he didn’t revel in the thought of you trembling beneath him. The other Pogues, to his knowledge, had no idea that the both of you were fooling around and he didn’t know if it was something he wanted to disclose. On one hand, he wanted a second opinion on whether or not this was something healthy. On the other hand, he knew what they would say; that JJ didn’t care about catching feelings and it was unlikely that he would consider succumbing to being a boyfriend. He knew he’d expressed his disdain for relationships in the past, but now he wasn’t so sure.

You ended up skipping out on the last two beach sessions in favor of Trent. Pope had decided to stay behind on the sand with JJ while Sarah, Kiara, and John B. enjoyed themselves under the warmth of the sun and the contrasting coolness of the ocean waves. Pope could sense something was amiss when JJ was the first to propose having a relaxing afternoon and hadn’t shown up with his surfboard tucked underneath his arm.

“Something’s up,” Pope stated. “Something’s been up for a while and I didn’t want to say anything about it until I knew for sure, but something’s definitely up.” JJ shook his head.

“It’s nothing.” Pope nudged JJ with his shoulder.

“C’mon, man. You don’t want to surf, your mind is a million miles from where you are, and not to mention, this entire week you’ve been moody.”

“I’m not moody,” JJ muttered with a scowl, flicking at a clump of sand near his foot. Pope’s mouth formed a knowing smile. JJ sighed. “Okay, I’ve been moody.”

“What’s up? Is it your dad again?”

“No,” JJ replied softly. “I just think life is bullshit.”

“We all think life is bullshit.”

“Feelings are bullshit.” Pope’s ears perked with interest.

“Feelings?” JJ looked at Pope before looking back at the view in front of him, watching as Kiara had playfully splashed Sarah with ocean water. He wished he could feel that carefree.

“They suck,” he began. “I think it’s stupid that people are allowed to feel something for people and not know if they feel the same.”

“Are you talking about someone?” JJ paused.

“No,” he replied.

“Okay...” Pope trailed off. JJ sighed once more.

“What I’m trying to say, is, I wish we weren’t cursed with not knowing where the lines are blurred and I wish we could all say how we feel without consequence.”

Pope sensed that JJ was trying to speak metaphorically and project his emotions on a secondary situation. He nodded, trying to follow the blond’s train of thought. He pursed his lips as JJ spoke and wanted to understand what he was saying to the fullest extent, but the boy decided to let JJ talk.

“Have you ever thought about getting off this island?” JJ asked after a few moments of silence.

“What kind of question is that?” Pope asked, laughing. “Of course I do.”

“But really,” said JJ. “Not just getting off and seeing what it’s like. I mean, like, what you’re gonna be doing in twenty years and the people who are going to be in your life.”

“Sometimes,” Pope replied with a casual shrug. “I try to take things one day at a time. I never want to overwhelm myself.”

“Lucky you,” JJ muttered. “I see myself off of this stupid fucking island by the time I’m thirty. I don’t want to live in a place where I feel trapped and can’t say what I want to fucking say.”

“I want to be able to forget about the Kooks,” Pope chimed in. JJ nodded. “I kinda want to live in San Francisco.”

“I’d probably live in Europe or something,” JJ said. “Don’t know where but I’d want to experience life as far away from North Carolina as possible.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Pope asked. He knew he wasn’t.

“Yeah, man,” JJ replied. “Just got a lot of things on my mind.”

The idea of fooling around with anyone that wasn’t you hadn’t crossed JJ’s mind. He’d been to Boneyard keggers since the lessons began but the notion of flirting and bringing a girl back to the Chateau was way off his radar. The Pogues didn’t take much notice but JJ wondered if they knew something was amiss or if they’d say something about it if they did. If he was able to realize he hadn’t slept with anyone since he began “teaching” you, then they might have. JJ knew their worlds didn’t revolve around him, and the boy was still as goofy and troublesome as ever, but there was a seeded doubt that made him awkward whenever he was around his friends if you happened to be there.

It wasn’t that his stomach felt queasy or that his heart was racing. He’d be lying to himself if he admitted that. His head was clear when it came to how he felt about you and he wouldn’t hesitate rushing to your house if you called him for another lesson or if you just wanted to kick back with him in your room and jam out to vinyls you pulled out whenever you felt nostalgic. Before, he would never have considered approaching your side of the island but now he didn’t feel as small as he did when he didn’t have a reason to be there. Your parents were familiar with your friends and didn’t mind JJ stopping by, which gave him more of an incentive to visit you when he had had enough of the Chateau and his friends’ loud personalities.

JJ knew his head was clear when it came to how he was feeling. The only part that clouded his judgement was Trent and dealing with the different friendship he’d have with you. He was sure that if the Touron wasn’t in the picture, things would be much easier for him. Trent’s dark and slick hair reminded him of greed and filth. His boisterous personality reminded JJ of everything he never wanted to be and he couldn’t understand why you’d pay attention to him for longer than a quick glance. The Touron was casually cool, the type of person who wanted to say they were able to rub elbows with the socialites of New York City by posting it on his social media accounts. You, on the other hand, were down to earth and courageous about your future potential. He couldn’t fathom why you were so attracted to someone who was your opposite.

Your head had been spinning too. Trent was the perfect gentleman and he hadn’t given you a reason to not trust him. And yet, every moment you spent with him reminded you that you weren’t spending it with JJ. You couldn’t understand why you’d been thinking about his shaggy hair when he wakes up or the way his eyes squint when he laughs a little too hard. Trent was giving you his full and undivided attention, and you always felt guilty when you needed to force yourself back into reality because you had been zoning out, daydreaming of being anywhere else.

But JJ never seemed to be anything other than friendly with you. You opted to disregard how he acted during the lessons, summing that up to pent up sexual frustration and a genuine interest to help you out after years of teasing you. You weren’t completely naive; you knew this was a way for JJ to get himself off, much like it was for you. The only difference between JJ taking advantage of you versus not was the fact that you wanted him to teach you how to make others feel good and how to make yourself feel like a goddess in the bedroom. You weren’t exactly sure why there had been a lack of awkwardness between the both of you despite him being your best friend since birth. There was never a question of doubt from JJ when you asked him to help you learn. There was no laughing when you admitted your lack of knowledge. Perhaps that’s why your initial doubt disappeared the first time he asked you to kiss him.

Trent had apologized for the beach date when he’d gotten startled by strangers parking next to him and promised you he’d make it up to you. He came through on his promise after you got worked up before your dinner date. You arrived at the hotel he was staying at while his father attended an event on the other side of Figure Eight and his hand glided up the side of your dress. Trent wasn’t rough nor was he gentle; he was giving you what you thought you wanted but it didn’t feel as skilled or as tender as when JJ’s fingers were inside of you. With JJ, your orgasm approached as if JJ already knew everything there was to know but Trent took his sweet time making you cum.

You always cursed yourself for letting your mind wander innocuously to JJ when Trent’s lips were on your neck or when his fingers were toying with the hem of your clothing. There wasn’t much going on between you and Trent, sexually, despite him wanting to take it further. You were lucky enough that Trent verbally expressed his willingness to wait, but you wondered if that wait time had an expiration date. You wanted to make sure if it felt right before you were able to deliver on a promise. You knew that your lessons with the blond would come to an end the moment you two had gone all the way, or until you were ready to experience sex without JJ, and you always moved that thought to the back of your mind to avoid thinking about it.

By now, you felt guilty for spending the majority of this week with Trent. Kiara had texted you a few times but understood wanting to spend time with him until he left. As far as you could tell, neither John B. nor Pope cared too much because they were happy their youngest friend was happy with someone. JJ, on the other hand, you couldn’t read. You didn’t understand why it was so difficult for you to reach out to him first or comprehend him, which you were usually good at. Suddenly, you were overthinking the way he talked to you and if he chose to sit next to you or someone else. You were overthinking his lingering gaze either on your thighs or some girl who walked past him with a weird knot in the pit of your stomach.

You kept telling yourself none of that mattered because you had Trent and you were sure you knew how you felt. Trent treated you right, was willing to wait, and never made you feel second best for not being as sexually promiscuous as he was. Yet something was lacking and you couldn’t figure out what it was.

You tried not to think about it on your way to the Chateau. The screen door slammed shut as you walked into the living room to try and save yourself from the downpour of rain. After Trent had dropped you off when his father had called him during the middle of a movie marathon, you opted to see the Pogues and spend some time with them once you realized how many times you had declined their offer to hang out. You saw JJ already sprawled out on the couch, seemingly all by himself.

“John B’s out with Sarah,” he said casually, pushing himself up onto his elbows to give you some room to sit down. You nodded a thank you, crossing your arms over your wet torso in an attempt to warm your shivering body as you sat down. Glancing down at your chest, you silently swore as you noticed your red bra was, in fact, very visible under your white shirt.

“Nice bra,” he chuckled, trying not to ogle too long. JJ hoped his comment didn’t make you feel awkward; he was having a hard time talking to you because he didn’t exactly know where he stood with you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled but you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks.

“So…” JJ trailed off. “How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’ve been good,” you nodded.

“And Trent?” he asked, attempting, and majorly failing, to hide the venom that laced his tongue. You mistook this as annoyance.

“Good,” you said, not wanting to talk about him anymore. JJ cleared his throat, his teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw, as he shifted on the couch so that he was sitting upright and facing you.

“You've been putting my lessons to good use?” he asked. He didn’t know why he’d asked. He had no desire to hear about you with another guy.

“You could say that,” you said. Were you really putting them to good use if you weren’t enjoying yourself with Trent nearly as much as you had been with JJ? You couldn’t tell JJ that Trent’s hands on you just sent your mind spiraling back to him or when Trent’s lips were on yours, it reminded you of that first night you started the whole thing.

“Oh? Does he make you feel good?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Because it’s not worth it if you’re not getting something out of it, too.”

“Uh, well-”

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he asked suddenly. He knew he was asking the question more for himself but he was desperate to have you again. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to show you how a real man treats his girl.

“What?” you were taken aback by the forwardness of his question. You watched as his eyes dilated, flicking back and forth from your lips to your chest.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “You need to be shown what it’s like to be taken care of.”

“But you already-”

“Just let me do this for you,” he snapped. “Please.”

“Okay,” you said before turning your body on the couch to face him. You hadn’t stopped shivering since entering the Chateau not too long ago and your goosebumps increased as you watched JJ move closer to you. He used his right hand to pry your knees apart, positioning himself between them. Your heart rate picked up as he leaned forward to press his lips against yours, the cold air hitting your wet skin when JJ pushed the soaked fabric of your t-shirt up so that it rested just under the hemline of your bra.

“Up,” he mumbled against your lips, the vibrations forcing a soft moan out of you as you broke the kiss to lift your arms above your head. You let out a small laugh when your shirt made a sloshing sound against the ground. It stopped as soon as it started, however, because you felt JJ start applying open-mouthed kisses along your collarbones.

Feeling his body pressed up against yours stirred up all the daydreams you’d had every time you’d gotten intimate with Trent. You’d been in this position before with him, but somehow it felt better without the pretense of a lesson. You were under the guise that this wasn’t just about teaching you what you liked and what you didn’t. Part of you wanted to believe that this was more than a lesson you’d acquire from JJ’s depth of knowledge. JJ’s kisses trailed lower and lower until his teeth started toying with the waistband of your shorts. The throbbing between your legs was growing steadily and you let out a sigh of relief when he finally dipped his fingers into the waistband and tugged the wet shorts down your legs with effort because of the rain, dropping them on the floor with your shirt.

“JJ,” you whimpered as he took his time moving down your body. He slipped his hands under your knees so that he could place them on his shoulders delicately before he laid out on the couch with his face centimeters away from your nearly bare pussy.

He let out a soft laugh in disbelief at how incredibly soaked you already were. It was practically coating your thighs at this point and your cunt was aching in anticipation for his touch. All JJ could think about is how you let another man see you from this point of view, which was enough to give rise to JJ’s ego. His mission was to make you feel so good that you’d think of him the next time Trent put his hands down your pants; he wanted you to remember this moment and know what it was like to be eaten out by someone who was determined to make you orgasm like a holy grail.

JJ’s jealousy didn’t cause him to act rashly and dominate the situation. He started by pressing fluttering kisses to the side of your knee, his eyes flickering up to see you watching him intently. JJ began by tenderly kissing the inside of your thighs, making comments about how soft you are and how you smelled so sweet. He does all he can to make you squirm underneath his touch, loving that your gaze didn’t leave him even if you tried. JJ pressed a kiss to the waistband of your underwear and you whimpered at the thought of him being so close to you in a way that was more intimate than before.

He chuckled when he heard you whimper again and moved his mouth to kiss along your clothed entrance. You knew JJ’s game all too well and you knew he’d take his time teasing you until you were begging for it. It took a while to come to this conclusion, but you figured out that you enjoyed the slow pace before the big finish. JJ had taught you that when you reached an orgasm, it was less about the other party getting off by getting you off. The point of your orgasm was to make you feel like a queen in the bedroom, not like a used toy to get someone else off.

So when JJ used the pad of his index finger to move your underwear aside and toy with your cunt, you didn’t bother begging for his mouth. Instead, you closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of his warm hands on you. JJ looked pleased at your reaction and wanted to make this moment last for as long as he could. His finger moved in slow circles before hitting a sensitive nerve that caused your hips to rise, to which JJ laughed and pinned you down in the cushions.

JJ pressed two delicate kisses on your entrance. His mouth was being coated in your slick and he licked his lips, closing his eyes to savor the way you tasted. His body inched forward in an attempt to be as close to you as possible before licking a stripe with his tongue pressed flat against you, causing you to let out a deep moan in satisfaction.

JJ’s tongue worked like magic, as if he already knew all of your weak spots and was discovering the different sounds you could make by his tongue. His hands were gripping your thighs and his eyes would look at his meal before back up at you, and you had taken the liberty to use your hands to tug on his hair when he had hit a pleasure point.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered against you to himself, proud of how loud and unapologetic you were being. He swore that if the Pogues had walked in the door, he’d stop eating your pussy and show them how pretty you looked underneath him. But he knew they would all be at Kiara’s until the storm passed.

His motions were delicate until he recalled the thought of you and Trent together in bed. His tongue began to dart in and out of you at a faster speed with every increasing thought. Giving Trent a handjob. Trent stripping you out of your bra and underwear. His fingers inside of you. His tongue down your throat. His cock in your mouth. His cock in your - JJ’s - pussy. He knew he was irrational and wrong to think that last thought, but in this moment, your pussy was his for the taking and he was going to make your orgasm like your life depended on it.

JJ’s grip on your thighs became tighter and you felt locked underneath him. Your toes curled and your hips bucked at the pressure and pace at which JJ was eating you out. His head was moving like he was catching every last drop of your wetness before going back for some more. JJ had taken the liberty to lift his head and spit on your entrance before diving back in, his tongue so deep inside of you that you almost considered asking him to use his cock instead.

“JJ,” you muttered, tugging on his hair.

“Just cum, baby,” he urged. “I’m ready for you.”

You obliged and it didn’t take you that long to release. JJ lapped the white pearls that were spilling out of you and his eyes were rolling to the back of his head as he realized this was the first time he was seeing you, and tasting you, from this angle. JJ’s jaw was becoming sore but he paid no attention as your legs spread wider against the couch and your body moved to the rhythm of his tongue.

When you were coming down from your high, JJ couldn’t have imagined anything hotter than the sight and sound before him, but your fingers reached down to your aching core in oblivion and began toying with your clit as your breathing steadied. JJ watched in awe as your fingers moved in slow, delicate and circular motions, your bottom lip in between your teeth and your eyes shut. His mouth hung open at how totally, completely, and utterly fucked you were in this orgasmic haze and was pulled out of this fantasy when you tugged your hand away and reached for a tissue to clean yourself up.

JJ couldn't think of anything to say and neither could you. You settled on watching a movie in silence.

***

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#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank smut #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow smut #obx x reader #obx imagines #obx #outer banks x reader #outer banks #*#study sessions #the art of eating pussy

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bimbonaparte · 3 years

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daddy lessons (parenting in spn vs. being human)

I have not been able to stop thinking about this for weeks and it’s making me insane, so apologies to all but here we GO. McNair (Being Human UK) and John Winchester (Supernatural) both raised their sons to be weapons in a secret war and did unforgivable things in the process, but thanks to some key differences in their parenting approach, we get wildly different kids out of the equation. To recap the middle bit of the Venn diagram here, both fathers:

Dragged their kids around the country, raising them like soldiers to fight a supernatural enemy; it’s unclear when anybody’s first kills took place, to my knowledge, but we can safely say that they were at way too young an age

Weaponized the memory of a dead mother as an excuse for their crusade

Moved them around constantly and denied them almost any outside connections; by design, their whole world is wrapped up in each other

Raised their kids (Tom and Dean most successfully*) to have little identity outside of hunting and to be entirely beholden to the cause, leading to a very upsetting self-sacrificial streak

Demanded military-esque obedience; some questions may be allowed here and there, but ultimately dad is the superior officer and it’s his call

Lied repeatedly to their kids “for their own good” and kept them on a need-to-know-basis, even for stuff that they REALLY needed to know

*(I’m generally focusing on Dean & Tom in this analysis, since I think Sam escaped some of this by rebelling against the notion of a “good son”)

Hell, they even had similar deaths (i.e., made the decision to keep their kids in the dark -- rather than, say, explaining anything or asking for help -- and walk into a confrontation with an old enemy that they knew they wouldn’t survive). But despite all this overlap, we end up with two wildly different characters: jaded & emotionally volatile Dean, who drinks & throws punches to cope with feelings and performs toughness as if there’s a panel of judges in the corner at all times; and sincere & emotionally vulnerable Tom, who is also quick to throw a punch but who talks about his feelings, cries easily, and is totally unconcerned with whether or not he’s perceived as tough or masculine. I literally can’t stop thinking about it.

If you ask me, the two diverge thanks to some key differences between the McNair and John Winchester school of parenting. Despite the NUMEROUS mistakes McNair made in Tom’s upbringing, we have to give credit where credit is due:

McNair loved Tom. Unequivocally. Thought he was the best person to ever exist. Told him this daily. Told any given random stranger who stood still long enough in Tom’s general proximity. Reinforced it with physical affection and affirmation. Tom never had cause to doubt this for even a second during his entire upbringing, and it shows.

McNair must have realized at some point that Tom was different, that his take on the world was always going to be a little bit naive. Instead of trying to change this or toughen him up “for his own good” (which I can very much imagine being the John Winchester approach), McNair seems to have thoroughly embraced this aspect of Tom’s nature.

Part of that is expressed through the "code.” McNair raised Tom to live by a strict code geared towards a) survival as nomad werewolf vampire hunters, and b) survival as Tom, specifically, who has incredible physical aptitude but struggles with other kinds of learning & social cues. The code has its downsides (namely the unquestioning obedience bit mentioned above), but otherwise functions as a sort of framework that Tom can follow for navigating the societal rules & interactions he doesn’t fully understand. (There’s also the whole “teaching Tom to respect others” thing, which I could honestly write an entire dissertation on).

Beyond the rules McNair thinks they need to survive, however, McNair seems to delight in Tom simply being Tom. This shines through most with Tom’s disarming sincerity -- which he retains largely because McNair (and society at large) never tried to train or polish it out of him. There are a dozen examples where Tom cuts through layers of conversational propriety and is just genuine, because it doesn’t occur to him to be otherwise. Where other characters (like Hal) can’t help laughing at him at least a little, we see McNair take him seriously, respond with encouragement, and even match his sincerity (see: “You’re perfect”) despite the fact that McNair was raised in a society that would frown on men talking like this to their grown sons.

We therefore end up with a Tom who earnestly says things like “virginity is like a flower” with zero self-consciousness. Who would have come along to tell him men don’t talk about sex like this? McNair certainly wouldn’t have; his top priority throughout is supporting Tom as-is, not molding his personality into some idea of what a man is or should be.

The end result of all this is a very sweet, very straightforward, emotionally vulnerable killing machine. “Always be polite and kind and have the materials to build a bomb,” indeed. Tom is obsessed later on with being “a success” in a very performative way, but -- as all the characters around him repeatedly remind him -- this is not something that McNair ever cared about or put on him.

What I would love to do next is a) also acknowledge the incredibly profound ways that McNair wronged Tom (starting with killing his parents, which cannot be glossed over) and how this fucked him up; b) contrast all this with the John Winchester approach to raising child soldiers (SIGH) to see how it is that we ended up Dean; and c) look at Dean and Tom’s perception of their respective fathers. BUT. I unfortunately have to go do actual work stuff or I am gonna be in big trouble (plus this is getting LONG), so I’m gonna be revisiting this another time. In conclusion tho: Tom McNair fascinates me beyond measure, I cannot get over this, and I do not want to. TBC.

#being human uk #supernatural #meta #i'm so sorry this is SO niche #but i just love them so much #dean winchester #tom mcnair #john winchester #john winchester's A+ parenting #can't wait until i hyperfixate on something else but in the meantime this is what you get #tried to add gifs to this but i don't know howwwwww :(

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 6 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode four. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: The following chapter is finally here! It took me a while to revise it because I wanted the action scenes to not suck super badly, so yeah.

(warnings: mentions of death, gunshots, blood, injuries) (word count: 3K)

six: shield

You sat next to Sam as he typed in a computer and Helmut Zemo nursed his headache. Once he gained consciousness, he’d showered you in gratitude and niceties, and you were already close to knocking him out yourself.

T-minus what, four hours? The Dora Milaje would be there soon enough.

It’s he the one to break the comfortable silence, only filled by the soft clicking of Sam’s keyboard before.

“Were you ever offered it?”

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.” Sam said, raising an eyebrow at you with an amused expression. You shrugged.

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

Sam’s mouth turned down, and he slowly turned to Zemo.

“No.”

“No hesitation, that’s impressive.”

You got up from the table, making a round so you could watch Zemo’s face as he spoke. He’d seen you usher Karli Morgenthau out of the factory basement, and you wondered what he had made of your actions.

“Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli.” His eyes met yours as he said that, and you looked away, circling a pillar and walking to be on the other side of the couch, by his feet. “No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone.”

You sighed. “You talk in absolutes. People aren’t like that, Zemo.”

He studied you again.

“And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

Zemo spoke with such conviction that you were sure you’d be also be harboring a bullet if he knew who, and what, you were.

“Isn’t that how gods talk? And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” Sam’s eyes flitted to you, and you offered him a tight smile. “Blood isn’t always the solution.”

When Steve had talked to you about handing over the shield for the first time you were doubtful. He was grieving the loss of his own time – your time, too – and second-guessing his own claim to it.

You never stopped believing in Steve when he did. You and Bucky were war. Steve was… the end of it. And not just because of the serum. He was that since you all were small and scrawny, him a little scrawnier and a little smaller, as he stopped you and Bucky from butting heads.

For Steve, you, and Bucky as well, that shield meant everything. It meant the salvation of the world from true evil, that in the 1940’s was personified in the form of a little man with a moustache. Whoever carried it carried the responsibility of being the harbinger of that freedom. Of relief, justice, and most of all... hope.

So when Steve talked to you about handing over the shield a second time, this time to capable hands instead of a glass dome, you understood – it was time to pass the mantle to someone who was, indeed, a new beacon of hope.

Safe to say, the fact that John Walker now carried the shield you put so much importance into felt wrong.

“Something’s not right about Walker.” Bucky strolled in, seemingly in a sour mood. You chuckled, and watched as he discarded his things on the counter.

“You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Sam quipped, and you patted his shoulder affectionately when you walked past him to get Bucky to make you a drink too.

You swiped his jacket off the counter and hanged it neatly on the back of one of the barstools. Bucky licked his lips and shook his head as you mouthed ragamuffin at him.

“Pour me one.”

“Can you hold your liquor now, sugar?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and grabbed the glass he had fixed for himself.

“Now you pour yourself one.” You took a sip, smiling into the glass.

Bucky glared at Sam. “Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

You shot Bucky a disapproving look. He raised his eyes briefly at you while pouring his drink, and shrugged.

“Buck—”

“I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

“James Barnes!” Goddamn Bucky and his hard-headed self.

Bucky looked at you like he used to look at his mother, wide eyed, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It only lasted for a second, his bewilderment falling into a scowl right after. Behind you, Sam chuckled.

You shook your head at Bucky, but you had no time to fall into an argument. The one and only John Walker and Lemar Hoskins were bursting in, demanding to take Zemo. Ordering, really.

“Hey, slow your roll.” Sam said firmly. “Man, let’s be clear. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.”

You bottomed up your whiskey, knowing whatever was to come couldn’t be good.

“Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. And we’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s coming next.”

Walker challenged Sam next. He looked eager and ready for a fight, and as much as you’d loved to keep your real abilities hidden, you figured your time out of the spotlight was running out. Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eye, relaxed stance contrasting with the tightness of his jaw. Zemo paced behind Sam, still clutching his own drink.

The moment Walker put down the shield an iron spear cut the air and lodged itself into the pilaster, separating him and Sam.

No, not iron. Vibranium.

The Dora Milaje.

“Even if he is a means to your end… Time’s up.” Ayo announced in Xhosa. You grimaced.

You sighed heavily when John decides to one-up them, too. Ayo swings the spear at his arm when he touches his shoulder and a fight breaks out. You reached for the liquor again.

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world.

The fight was only Walker and Hoskins getting absolutely overpowered by the warriors while you, Bucky, Sam and Zemo stayed out of it.

“We should do something.”

You swirled your drink, taking a small sip. “I am. I’m observing.”

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky shouted, making you have to hide a snort. Sam exhaled heavily.

“Such a diplomat, you. Bucky…”

“I’m a lot of things, Samuel.” You shrugged, but finished your drink anyways and hiked up your sleeves.

You, Bucky and Sam all ran to take one of the Doras each. As one kicked Hoskins to the couch you stepped in front of him, blocking the hit of her spear with your forearm.

You met her eyes and tilted your head apologetically. When she raised her weapon again you twisted your body and landed a back kick to her middle.

She staggered back a couple of steps but was back at you in an instant.

Hit. Block. Kick. Another hit to your shoulder.

Even if the fight was fairly balanced, Super Soldier against Dora Milaje, you knew you had a slim chance of actually winning. You hadn’t been in a fight in years, much less with someone this capable and trained.

After blocking another of your strikes with her spear, she hit the side of your left knee. It’s your bad one.

East Berlin, 1987. You had been undercover for nearly two weeks now, tracking a lead about the existence of a HYDRA lab that was conducting experiments with new Super Soldiers.

The wind that cut through the rooftop of the building you stood on testing the very limits of the overcoat you wore on top of your tactical suit. So damn cold. You tried not to dwell on how frigid your toes were inside of your boots, instead concentrating on watching the sun slip behind the skyline.

You were waiting on a man that would give you the next lead. Intel said he would be there before you, but he wasn’t when you got there. 10 minutes had gone past the accorded meeting time, and you were starting to think that no one was coming.

A bullet ricocheted on the concrete pillar you were stood behind, and you realized why S.H.I.E.L.D.’s contact was running late. You grabbed your own pistol, still hidden by the concrete, and peeked in the direction the shot had come from.

A man and a woman, in full leather. You saw the red star etched on their left arms as they marched towards you. HYDRA.

You had two exit options, one that was across the rooftop or jumping down into River Spree. Either way, you’d have to deal with the two HYDRA agents that approached you.

You ran to another pillar, shooting at them. You hit the woman on the leg, and she buckled down. Her counterpart didn’t even spare her a look, continuing his way to you. You kept shooting, missing a few and landing the rest on the both of them, the guy barely flinching.

You didn’t understand why he wasn’t using his own gun. Maybe he didn’t feel the need for one.

There was no time for thinking. The man was onto you; swatting your gun away, blocking your punch, hitting your chest. You crashed into concrete.

The woman joined in, landing a hard blow to the side of your skull. Your eyes widened. They were just as strong as you.

Super Soldiers.

You crawled away from them, hand swatting at your leg for your knife. It landed in the woman’s throat with a squelch. One down.

The man was much stronger it seemed, you barely able to keep the fight balanced even with another of your knives. You cut and ripped, but it was like your blade was a feather on his skin.

He backed you up until the edge of the building. You could see the river below.

You groaned when he headbutted you, and you go stumbling down. The blood was hot against your face and metallic on your lips.

He stomped on your knee. Again. And again. You choked on your own agony.

His voice was all you heard before he kicked you off the ledge. You plunged into the freezing air.

Hail HYDRA.

Familiar pain laced through you, making your hairs stand on end. You cried out, nearly tumbling straight to the ground.

The clank of metal hitting the ground and a spear shot at the direction of the shield ended the fight. Bucky’s vibranium arm laid limp and detached on the ground, his expression even more perplexed than when you had scolded him earlier.

You straightened yourself up as the pain subsided. Ayo opened the doors to an empty bathroom.

Zemo. He has slipped right through your fingers while you were busy defending John Walker’s ass from the Dora Milaje.

You helped Sam to his feet as they were leaving, Ayo giving you one last stern look before leading the way out. It felt like a reminder of a debt.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam said, looking at a limbless Bucky. The arm seemed to snap back into the right place, thank goodness for that. A failsafe, then.

“No.” Bucky rotated his arm, an indecipherable expression on his face, even for your standards.

The room was filled with tension as the three of you gathered yourselves again and John Walker sat defeated on the ground, with only Lemar to check up on him. You walked past them to get inside the bathroom, frowning at the drainage hole Zemo had made his escape through.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo,” Sam murmured.

“I can.” Bucky clenched his jaw. “Come on.”

Bucky led you through the backstreet and to the back of the building, though you weren’t sure exactly what you were looking for. A lead, maybe, but neither of you knew if Zemo had made his way all the way to the underground or escaped to the streets once he was out.

“You okay? You got hit pretty bad back there.” Sam said, looking at you. You all had taken a decent beating, but the hit to your leg had taken you by surprise. Bucky frowned.

“I’m good.” Bucky frowned deeper, and you shook your head at him, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “I got a bad knee, it’s all. Replacement cap and everything.”

Sam laughed.

“You’re 106 and have a prosthetic kneecap? Wow, you’re starting to sound your age.”

“You know what, Wilson? I think you should respect your elders.”

Sam raised his hands, still laughing. “Okay, okay. But only ‘cause I saw you kicking ass back there. Girl, where the hell have you been?”

Bucky grumbled something, and threw an arm around your shoulders.

“Retired.”

You patted his cheek lovingly, and laughed a little when you caught him fighting a smile. Sam got ahead of you, sending you a look of mischief and wiggling his eyebrows.

You urged Bucky forward, earning a huff from him as you got to Sam’s side.

Compartmentalizing was necessary. Zemo was on the loose, Walker was verging on unhinged, and there was still Karli to deal with. Whatever was going on with you and Bucky – and the insistent feeling that tugged on your heartstrings whenever you looked at him – would have to wait.

You listened to Sam’s conversation on the phone, his tone growing more concerned at every pause. Sarah. Overnight bag. Take the boys.

“What happened?” Bucky asked and you slipped from under his arm.

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.”

Shit.

“Sam, I got a safehouse in New Orleans.” You said once he hung up. He nodded at you, and you took his phone to get his sister’s contact.

Karli was entering dangerous territory. Before, you considered her a fighter on a rightful cause, but as if predicted by Zemo, she was escalating. You feared that it was a fight you couldn’t let her win, or run free.

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number.” Sam’s phone chimed. “She said come alone.”

“I’m comin’ with you.” Bucky looked at you. “We are.”

“Let’s gear up, boys.”

---

You were grateful you had kept your old tactical suit inside your closet for a rainy day.

The suit was carbon black, except for the blue-grey Kevlar plating on your chest, back and upper legs. It had a faint resemblance to an armor, and the amount of impact it could absorb made you protected and difficult to take down. You completed your gear with your trusty boots and hidden knives.

Sam had changed into his wings and Bucky into his peculiar one-armed leathers.

“Damn, you look cool.”

A laugh escaped your lips. “So do you, Sam.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “We should go.”

The sky was cloudy and the air dry, and still you could feel a storm coming. You walked into the empty building, you and Bucky tailing Sam.

“Karli!”

The redhead revealed herself, standing on the second floor. Sam went to talk to her, leaving you to watch them from a distance.

Karli looked at you and Bucky there, her eyes lingering on you for a few seconds more. You realized how menacing you must have looked, the three of you in full gear, and you wondered if Bucky felt as strange about your rigid stance as you did about his.

The two of you really had changed.

“I was gonna ask you to join me. Or do the world a favor and let me go.”

If only things were that easy.

Sam looked at the screen on his wrist and turned to you in alarm.

“It’s Walker.”

A trap. Bucky was the first to leap to the ground, colliding with Karli in the process. You and Sam landed at the same time, and you hoisted Bucky up while Sam clashed with the girl.

He sent Karli to the ground with a flying kick.

“I’ll send you the location, go!”

You and Bucky leapt into the street and broke into a fast sprint as Sam took off.

“You’re fast!”

You looked to your side at Bucky, smirking. He was just a little behind you.

“I’m lighter!”

“No fair!”

“You have a metal arm!”

Bucky led you to the location Sam had sent him. Riga had plenty of empty buildings, it seemed. You were running up the stairs when a Flag Smasher jumped on you, then another on Bucky.

The guy and you dragged yourselves all the way to the top, exchanging punches. You saw his eyes widen under the mask when you landed a boot on his chest and he went flying backwards.

Taking the free time you had bought yourself, you searched for Bucky below you. As soon as you found him the Flag Smasher tackled you, hoisting your body up. You hit his shoulder blade with your elbow and he bumped into the railing, quickly turning and hanging you over the edge.

“Y/N!”

Bucky was upside down. No, that was you.

He reached for you as the other Flag Smasher had him locked in a rear choke.

“I’ve got this!”

Tightening your legs around the man, you let yourself fall, taking him with you. You crash at the bottom of the building.

“You said you had this!”

Bucky jumped to your level.

“I do!”

You stared at his scowl for a brief second before roundhouse kicking your foe and finally putting him down.

Bucky returned to you after dealing with his own Flag Smasher. He looked furious.

“You’re so fucking reckless!”

Oh, Jesus H. Christ. You couldn’t believe Bucky, wanting to argue.

“I am fine! It wasn’t that high.” You huffed. “We have no time for this, James. Let’s go.”

You ran to the top of the building, Bucky trailing behind you. He caught a flying knife right before it lodged itself on your face. He glowered at you as if to say you don’t got this.

Not sparing him a response, you busy yourself with fighting another of the Flag Smashers, this time a woman. It was like all you needed was a little warming up, because you’re clearly in advantage as you blocked her punches and grabbed her torso, slamming her into the ground next.

You looked up. John Walker was staring at you.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on whatever he saw, one of the men coming from behind and immobilizing him.

Karli screamed as she ran towards Walker. She was in it for the kill. Hoskins tackled her before she could do it. All you could make out was the blur of an altercation.

Lemar Hoskins slammed into a pillar with a crack.

Your stomach churned.

Everything stilled as Walker ran to his partner, desperately trying to get him to wake up. He slumped sideways, his head lolled down.

He was dead.

Karli and her group took advantage of the tumult and ran, her shooting one last look at the rest of you as they took off. You couldn’t let her get away this time, though, so you immediately go into pursuit.

You shot one look behind you, seeing Bucky and Sam follow you as you whizzed through the streets of Riga. You’re the first to get to the square, making your way to the middle of the crowd hastily.

Walker stoop upright, holding the shield over the body of one of the unmasked Flag Smashers.

It was broad daylight; there were dozens of people around you.

The city was silent.

He was dead.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n

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obx-writings · 4 years

Text

I Love You So Bad

AN: I got this idea listening to this song while attempting to sleep and immediately began writing it. This is actually very similar to what happened to me, so be gentle haha.

Summary: After being cheated on, you’re with your friends, but a song comes on that reminds you of the past. JJ tries to make that pain go away.

Relationship: Reader X JJ

Word Count: 1.9K

It’s a slow burn type thing, and it can be left on it’s own but let me know if you guys want me to turn this into a series. I’m absolute JJ trash and would love to keep writing! Anyways, enjoy!!!

______________________________________________________________

Two years. Two years absolutely down the drain. You had found out that your ex boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you half the time with random Tourons and Kooks, not even caring if you found out. You walked into a room at a party looking for him, seeing him with his tongue down some blonde’s throat, and you felt so sick you wanted to puke right there. He ran after you, giving you some bullshit excuse of “I thought it was you.” and “I’m sorry baby, I was drunk, it won’t happen again.” but what he didn’t know is you had heard through the grapevine of his party escapades, and you were looking for him to confirm.

That was 3 weeks ago. All your future plans were thrown to absolute shit. You spent the last two years thinking you were going to marry this guy, despite the constant badgering you had from the other Pogues, but they just wanted you happy. When you finally did tell them that Dalton had been cheating, you were scared that John B and JJ would end up in a ditch somewhere with how much they wanted to kill him. No one took it harder than Kie though. SHe introduced you two, after having been lab partners with him in biology and thinking you two would be a perfect match, despite his disdain for Pogues.

Now, here you are, sitting at a bonfire with the gang, John B and Sarah snuggled up on a blanket, Pope with his back against a log and Kie sitting in between his legs, and you, with your head resting on JJ’s shoulder as you all talk and laugh about life. Except you weren’t really doing much of the talking or laughing. You stared blankly at the fire, listening to the music playing softly in the background, still heartbroken someone could do this to you. You didn’t care so much about losing Dalton as you felt hurt by his blatant betrayal. JJ kept offering you a hit off his joint, something you would have gladly accepted 3 weeks ago, but now it just made the numb feeling in your body worse. That is, until, the song changed, and you felt tears streaming down your face silently. It played the song you and Dalton had said would be the first dance song at your wedding. He had taken you to see the stars, played music and the two of you danced all night. Now the song just made you hot with anger.

“Change it.” You spat to John B who was in the middle of one of his famous surf stories.

“Y/N, what?” He looked genuinely confused and a little taken aback at your biting tone.

“The song, fucking change it. I can’t listen to this shit anymore.” You threw your solo cup on the ground and sat up from JJ’s shoulder, running your hands through your hair, trying to hide you wiping the salty liquid from your face. As John B went to change the song, not wanting to cause you anymore pain, the blonde next to you spoke softly.

“No, JB don’t.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You were angry, what right did he have to put you through this torture?

“I’m not gonna let you sit here and mope and be sad any longer.” He ran a hand through his hair haphazardly, looking stressed out. “You will not sit here and cry over a fucking Kook, I won’t allow it, which is why,” He stood up as he spoke, reaching a hand out to you, “we’re going to create a new and better memory for you.” No one else knew, but after that date you went back to the chateau to tell everyone how amazing it was, only to find JJ alone in the house. Unable to contain yourself, you gushed on and on about how happy Dalton made you, and slipped in the wedding song idea, completely oblivious to the fact that it killed him to watch you fall for another guy. He sat, and smiled, and even told Dalton once that his hair didn’t look too bad for a Kook, even if he meant it sarcastically. He tried so hard to get over it, but somehow he couldn’t. He told himself that it was just because he knew Dalton would hurt you, but he knew it was more, he just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

You scoffed at him and shook your head, “You’re crazy.” You said, but a small smile creeped up on your lips. JJ’s facial expressions didn’t change and you realized he was serious.

“I’m not playing, Y/N. Get your cute ass up here and dance with me.” You were taken aback by his compliment, and even more so that he wanted to dance in front of anyone, as JJ was never known for being the dancer of the group. That title was reserved for Pope after one too many shots. The rest of the group just watched in shock as you slipped your hand in JJ’s and he pulled you off the log and a few steps away from the fire. He slid his other hand around your waist and pulled you close. He didn’t care that the others were gawking at his sudden burst of affection, he wanted to be there for you. You laid your head on his chest and began to sway, slowly forgetting about that night under the stars with Dalton and JJ began rubbing circles on your back. Sarah, realizing she was staring and didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable that you probably were with everyone’s eyes on you, pulled John B up as well.

“C’mon, it's a dance party now.” She and John B swayed sillily to the music and Kie and Pope laughed along, letting you two stay in your little bubble. You were about to make a comment about how funny they looked when JJ started softly singing the words in your ear. “Oh, my heart hurts so good, I love you, babe, so bad, so bad” Your heart fluttered at the sound, his voice rough and gravily, but sounding so gentle against the skin of your neck.You began to realize what JJ was doing, he was giving you a new thing to think about when you heard this song, and boy was it working. As you let your eyes slip closed and for a moment you could have sworn you felt his lips brush the outer shell of your ear, but you played it off as him being high and affectionate tonight.

“Thank you, J. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.” The sound of the group laughing behind you brought you out of your daze and you went to pull away from the warmth that was JJ’s embrace, until he gripped your hand tighter.

“Uh uh uh, where do you think you’re going, Princess?” He spoke in a low tone that made you feel as if you were floating. His lips curled into a smirk as he pulled you to his chest. “We haven’t gotten to the big finish yet!” The comedic amusement glimmering in his eyes made you laugh, and you were unsure as to where this JJ had come from. He seemed genuinely happy and full of life, a stark contrast from the usual prankster you knew. He dramatically spun you around and dipped you, the others taking notice after his exclamation and gave very loud cheers and applause, while you felt the blood rush to your face, blaming it on the heat of the fire licking at your cheeks. You have had moments with JJ before where you feel that little spark between you, but they were fleeting, and it was JJ. Not to mention the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule. You two had known each other since you were eight years old and other than Kie, he was your best friend. But this...this moment felt different. This moment felt like maybe he noticed that spark at times too. But this too was fleeting as soon you were back on your feet, facing the boy in his blue eyes.

“I told you I’d give you an even better memory with you’re truly.” You looked up at him, confused for a second until you realized you had forgotten why he was even dancing with you in the first place. You realized you had forgotten your hurt, your tears, and all the sadness melted away in the warmth that was JJ, and his kind eyes.

“I..uh..thank you, J...I needed that.” You smiled warmly at him, and gave his hand a squeeze before you went back to sit down, this time next to Kie. JJ looked over to John B and made some comment about how his dance moves were awful, and Sarah fake gasped and threw some popcorn at him, saying something about how her boyfriend was an amazing dancer, until Pope chimed in, but Kiara just looked at you and spoke in a whisper.

“That was a first.” You looked over at her, confused. “JJ, I haven’t seen him be sweet like that to anyone, like ever, in the history of JJ.” She kept her voice low but it had a joking tone to it. You simply shrugged and made a comment about how he’s always there for his friends when they need them. “I don’t know, Y/N, he’s been looking at you different for like a year now.”

“What are you talking about?” You were suddenly interested in what your friend had to say.

“It’s just, he’s different with you. Softer, more careful. It’s nice to see JJ can have a heart, which means his life hasn’t completely made him cold yet.” She laughed off her comment and took a sip from her cup, chiming in on the conversation about John B’s dancing skills, and you looked over at the blue eyed boy, catching his glance for a second, wondering if maybe Kie was right. He gave you a small smile, his eyes glistening in the fire light, and for the first time in almost ten years, it was like you were seeing this boy for the first time, blonde hair, tan skin and all, and you felt a twist in your stomach that wasn’t pain. It was butterflies. You thought to yourself, maybe, just maybe, there is something between me and JJ, you just didn’t know if he felt the same, but that could wait until a later date. Being surrounded by your friends, you easily slipped into a fun conversation, finally feeling like yourself again.

Like I said, let me know if you want more from this story or if you have any prompts for me! If this gets a good response I’ll probably put up a prompt list at some point! :)))

#jj maybank #jj #outerbanks #john b routledge #john b #kie #pope #jj fanfiction #jj imagine #netflix #fluff #lany #jj x reader #jj may bank x reader #pogues for life #kooks vs pogues #soft jj

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bubblyani · 4 years

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Bail Out: 03

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi-Chapter Series

Chapter 03: The Dark Knight

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 5000+

Rating: Mature

Author’s Note: The more I write and delve into this story, the more feels I am drowning in. Can you blame me? Anyways, Enjoy! And would love to hear from you guys.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

The buzz in the police station did not seem to influence Officer John Blake’s concerned expression, while he stood silently. With his hands on his hips, he stared at his neatly arranged desk, for he sensed an irregularity the moment his night shift commenced.  

“Did uh…” he began, "Did anyone see the-”

“Felton Center Robbery File? Here you go!” Officer Langdon replied, handing him a thick folder.

“Thanks…” Taking it from her hands, John nodded with a soft smile of acknowledgement while maintaining subtle, yet unbroken eye contact. Responding with her lips curved upwards, she passed by his desk. And suddenly, the chaos in John’s face was no more. He sat down, at peace to work once again.

Langdon’s eyes widened with relief as she caught the sight of her colleague Officer Ramirez, enter the station.

“Dave! Finally see him yet?” She inquired. Dave Ramirez, shook his head with a dejected sigh. “Nah! He…” he began, “…had left already when I got to the scene..” “Typical…” “But he did leave these three…” Dave added, pointing behind him, “…gift wrapped for us…”, he said, tempting most in the precinct to look. Three Officers brought in three men, wearing ragged, dull clothes and disgruntled expressions.

“The person who got attacked…she looked so familiar…” Dave muttered in mid thought, attempting to regain his memory with the snap of his fingers, “Ah! The Bruiser! That’s the one…” “The who?” John asked, with his eyebrows raised. Pointing at him, Dave continued: “You know…” he began, “….the woman you brought in two week ago…for punching that Henderson guy?” he said, “The one who recommended the coffee? Which was actually good?” He exaggerated, motioning towards the coffee Langdon poured from the coffee pot, “That chick was rig-”

“Wait!” John interrupted him, standing up, “So you’re telling me she was attacked…tonight?” “Almost attacked…” Dave corrected him, leaning against his own desk, “…but Batman showed up right on time…” he said with admiration quite similar to a fanatic, “And I missed it…like an ass!” He said sadly. Sighing, he looked up dramatically, “Guess The Bruiser must be quite popular now…”

Shaking her head slowly, Langdon proceeded to drink her coffee, amused by the whole situation. However, John was far from amused. Suddenly trapped in ponder, John sank back to his seat.

“Guess so…” He muttered to himself. A question mark will definitely will remain in his mind over the woman known as “The Bruiser”, and the trouble that had seemed to follow her.

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Bold of Lillian Foster to arrive into work the next morning, right after the Annual Charity Dinner the night before, no less. But fortunately for the good health of her and her unborn child, she worked with much enthusiasm. Any Head would. If it was the last day before their maternity leave. While she thrived on energy, you were certainly hung on the low end of it.

Close colleagues paid kind visits to her office, offering her last minute baby gifts, and well wishes in the form of cards and verbal statements. All the while you stood beside Lillian’s desk, with your arms folded. And you obliged to do so, to her special request. Ever since her pregnancy, you involuntarily had been nothing but accommodating to your mentor. If it were any other day, the sight of Baby Gifts and cards would send you to the edge of over excitement, clapping hard and jumping up and down, filling the room with coos and aww’s. But this morning, you showed much contrast with an unusually quiet self. For only you knew of the more pressing matters that were at hand. Namely, dealing with a terrible hangover, losing your wallet, and almost getting killed by complete strangers.

“So…What did the hotel say about your wallet?” Lillian’s question made you turn to her. Hiding in your own thoughts for so long, little did you realize it was finally just the two of you at her office now. Unwilling to make her worry, you only mentioned about the lost wallet to your boss, and nothing more.

“They are still looking for it…” You answered, moving over to sit on a chair, “Clearly they don’t seem to be a ‘fan' of me ever since the Henderson incident.” You said, using air quotes. Sighing, you continued “…wonder if they’re just being difficult…”

 “I can call again for you, if it makes you feel better…” 

“You’re really sweet, but it’s okay…” you said, sad eyes overpowering your smile, “I already froze my credit cards, just in case…” you assured, looking back to find Paula entering the room, “They said they will call me back once they find it” you whispered, looking back at your mentor. Paula Yang handed over a file to Lillian with a sincere expression of sadness.

“Lillian, we’re really gonna miss you…” She mumbled, possibly for the third time that day. And just like you, Lillian admired her sincerity. “Thank you Paula…” she replied, keeping her elbows on the table, “But she’s gonna be here…” she pointed at you, “….and it will be like I never took maternity off-You’re alright?” Lillian’s inquiry made you flinch. Blinking hard, you realized to have dozed off for a few seconds with your own elbow on the table. With your boss and Paula staring at you with concern, you sat up straight. “Yeah I just…” you paused, stifling a yawn, “ I need some coffee…” you said, silently receiving Lillian’s approval as you slowly got up to leave.

The smell of coffee seemed to hold your brain and consciousness in place as you took in a sip. The massive hangover certainly did some damage to your system that morning. With an empty stomach, it seemed quite obvious. After a large sip, you stretched your back, trying to relax. Safely hidden in the confines on your own office, you slowly took off your heels. Finally liberated from the tight shoes, your toes managed to move about and breath in fresh air under the table. Heels were never an issue for you, especially being a member of the corporate world for a decade, yet taking them off, there always had been something pleasurable about that.

A knock on the closed door made you jerk. When it slowly opened, you sighed heavily. “Paula…” you began “…not now-” “Am I interrupting?”

Except it was not Paula, but Bruce Wayne instead.

You stood up in lightning speed, to see him standing by the door with a smile on his face. A bright reciprocation smile appeared on your own, for you felt nothing but a thousand sunflowers bloom inside you at once. “Mr. Wayne!” You blurted, “What-” you paused, “Are you-? Can I-?” “Did you by chance lose…this?” Bruce inquired, putting you out of your misery as he drew out an object from the inside of his jacket. Your eyes widened. “Oh my god!” You clutched your chest, For it was indeed your wallet. “Yes I did! Thank you…” you piped, quickly leaving your desk when he walked towards you, “Wait!” You paused, “When did you find it? And Where?” “Late last night…at the Hotel” he stated, extending it to you,”… but you weren’t there…”

“Late last night…” you repeated, suddenly silent. Silence was essential for you just recalled everything, “…right…” you murmured flatly. The moment you took your wallet, you caught Bruce looking down, giving you a playful smile. Looking down yourself, you gasped. As your exhaustion had forced you to walk over to him barefooted.

“Oh! I’m so sorry…” you cried out in a hushed tone, quickly turning as you rushed to your desk in your tipped toes.

“No… it’s alright” Bruce chuckled, to which you shook your head frantically. “No!” You exaggerated, “…it’s not right”

Putting your wallet right next to your handbag that was on the table, you proceeded to put your shoes on. You were embarrassed to the riches. And you were also suddenly very stressed. How could a task as simple as putting one’s shoes on take such time? You did not dare look at him during, for you knew you would blush.

Finally, with your feet secured by the shoes, you stood straight once again. Looking at him you realized how he had been staring at your bag for quite a while.

“Thank you for coming all this way…” you began, “… for this…” pointing at your wallet, you added sincerely with a smile. Funny how he managed to save you in some way or another. Bruce shook his head.

“I was just in the neighborhood” He replied, standing in front of your desk, “…couldn’t help but be a good Samaritan…” he smirked.

You could not help smiling. Yet at the same time, a strong urge grew inside of you. An urge you had to act upon. Or else you would regret it forever. Especially when Bruce Wayne was standing there right before you.

“Mr.Wayne…” you began shyly, causing his smirk to disappear. Taking a deep breath, you felt your fists clench, “Do you have a minute…to talk?”

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Thanks to your heels, your hips involuntarily swayed while you walked towards the office door. Opening it wide, you were greeted with the sight of many of your junior female staff straightening themselves up before you, from what possibly could be an eavesdropping position.

“Can I help all of you?” You inquired with authority, and a raised eyebrow. They all shook their heads frantically, walking back to their booths with giggles and whispers.

“Did you see him?” “He’s just as gorgeous as I imagined…” “What’s he doing here?” “Are they friends now?”

Watching them, you suppressed a smile. Having the great Bruce Wayne in the HR floor, was a surprise in itself. Truthfully, it was an honor for the Department. Never did you care to witness the sight of him on your floor ever since he returned to Gotham City. Shaking your head slowly, you left the door open wide before returned to your seat. However, Bruce Wayne seemed quite confused as he remained seated across you.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” He asked, pointing at the open door. You smiled.

“I understand your confusion…” You empathized, getting your hands together in a professional manner, “But uh…you see…” you pressed your lips together, “Ever since the ‘Bruiser’ incident…” you used air quotes before continuing, “…the staff is being told to be careful about me…” you added with a sarcastic smile.

It seemed that the Billionaire Socialite could not help but chuckle at that. But that meant more embarrassment for you.

“It’s not funny at all, Mr. Wayne...” You said, with an unexpected playfulness springing out , to your dismay, “I’ve never been the type to do any of that…so… it really hurts when everyone assumes that I am…” you bleated. The more amused he appeared to look, you weaker your defenses became, forcing you to chuckle back in return.

“Ahem!..” Clearing your throat, you stopped the chuckle, “Anyways…” you took a deep breath, “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior last night…” your words echoed well through the somber expression on your face, “It was…very insensitive..and highly inappropriate” It was true. You admitted it. Recalling the entire scenario, you were cringing to the core. That drunken attitude, leading to the dance of liberation, thus followed by your sassy one-sided banter that hinted insults. You were an absolute disappointment. Oddly enough, you could not help but avert your eyes and chuckle. “What?” Bruce asked, crossing his legs while he sat. “Come to think of it” chuckles continued as you looked up, “I’ve always been nothing but unprofessional in front of you”. You shook your head at your own shame, “So I guess this is me…” you said, sitting back on your chair, “…redeeming myself” you added, shrugging your shoulders, “…and me realizing that whiskey is not the drink for me…” Bruce smiled.

“I can agree on that” he confirmed, making your eyes widen. “Oh no! Was it that noticeable?” “Well, did you punch Henderson after some Whiskey?” “….yes?….”

Bursts of laughter erupted as intense as a volcano out of both of you. And it was certainly unexpected manner. But in all honesty, was it really unexpected? It was so difficult for you to fathom how comfortable you seemed to be with him. Perhaps it was the aura he presented to you. No wonder you fancied him.

“Please…” Bruce said, his laughter dying down, “…there’s nothing for you to apologize…”.

“No! you don’t understand” you objected, “Last night…it made me reflect on a lot of things. It gave me clarity…and I know…I don’t want you to have a bad impression of me…not anymore…not ever…”

You were surprised by your bravery to express yourself this deeply in front of him. Bruce nodded, warmth soaking his eyes. “I understand…”

He said. Pausing his nod, his eyebrows were raised, “I’m guessing you’re not finished talking…” he observed. Your jaw dropped with shock. As if he just read your mind. Or perhaps he was observant enough to notice your tensed jaw and your tightened temples. Relaxing them, you exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry to even ask but…” you paused, looking around before lowering your voice, “…was everything okay with all of you last night?”

“Yes we were…” Bruce nodded providing a nonchalant answer, “….why?”

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For some reason, You had remained tight lipped about the entire incident. Though many would jump at the chance of sharing the story of how they were almost mugged, and close to being killed, you had decided to pretend like nothing of the sort had happened. Until Bruce Wayne was in your sights once again.

With the enthusiasm of an excited child, you found yourself babbling on about the thrilling events of the night before, which ended with the unexpected visit from a crime-fighting vigilante.

“…And he so close to stabbing me. But suddenly…baam!” You cried out, with your hands extending wide, “There was batman, just… showing out of nowhere…”. Though Bruce stared at you with furrowed brows, you chose to continue, “…and just…kicks ass like no ones busines-”

“Why-Why are you talking so quietly ?”

Bruce interjected, seemingly unable to accept this confusion any longer. The moment you sensed how he had sat on the edge of his seat just to listen to you, the realization dawned on you.The volume of your voice had dove down to incredibly soft, you were almost whispering, even in the comfort of your own office. Chuckling shyly, you leaned forward:

“I suppose with the door open, I figured everyone was gonna wanna eavesdrop on what I’m telling you right now…” you explained, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you Mr. Wayne but, your employees are…” pausing, you looked around once again, “…gossip mongers” you whispered, sending him to a streak of chuckles.

His laughter was soft yet distinctively sharp, and his smile was a sight to indulge. You could identify every line on his face, all contributing to that smile. There you both were, leaning forward from both chairs, with just a table in between. Even so, the proximity seemed dangerously close, for a corporate meeting. Not professional in the least. With your face heating up, you moved back to your chair, clearing your throat. Bruce managed to do the same, except in the most subtle manner.

“Anyways…” you began, “…then they start firing shots and he just avoids them so effortlessly… breaking their defenses and ties them up faster than I could wrap a present…and just disappears…” you added, leaning back on your chair with a deep exhale, “I never thought I’d see him in person… and there he was…swift and incredible, so brave”

Staring at the man before you, you realized how long you’ve been keeping the owner of Wayne Enterprises in your office for so long. Was this a form of punishment for him? You could never know, for he never showed. He may be the man deemed most powerful in your company, yet he acted far from such in your presence. It was proved, it was confirmed by the level of relaxation he had indirectly offered to you. Beaming, you clasped your hands together.

“This was the first time I had told someone about this in such detail…I hope you understand” you said, embarrassingly. Bruce however, responded with a mischievous smile:

“Looks like someone’s got a crush”

“What?” You were stunned, “Who? About Batman? NO no no no…” Incessantly waving your hand, you refused, which amused Bruce even more.

“Honestly I have nothing but respect for the guy…” you added defensively, taking a huge sip of your coffee with evident nervousness, “and frankly I feel…I feel quite sorry for him.”

The amusing expression left Bruce’s face, replacing with an expression of curiosity. Though no words sprung out, you knew his eyes begged the question: Why?

“I mean…” you scoffed, extending your hand, “…putting his life out there like that, all for the sake of this city. And…possible having no one to be responsible for his life…” you sighed, “It just breaks my heart…” bowing your head down, you sensed sadness in your own tone, “…I sincerely hope he’s okay, wherever he is… and his loved ones too, of course”

“So…” Bruce began, breaking your trail of profound pondering, “…you’re not in love with him?” He inquired with a smirk.

Nervous laughter was all that exited you. For you the truth was all you could disclose, just with a few details hidden.

“I’m not…” you said as soon as the laughter died down, “…Besides…” looking up, your eyes caught his, “… my heart’s dying to get in somewhere else..” You admitted, “….somewhere impossible, unfortunately…”

Amazing. This possibly could have been one of the bravest feats you ever performed. If only Bruce Wayne knew. If only he was aware of how much you had begun to care for him. But then again, if he knew, what would his reaction be? You felt your fists clench and loosen soon after, forcing him to look at your right hand. The mere sight of his eyes washing over the dried scabby lines of your scars embarrassed you.

“How did you even learn to throw a punch like that, anyways?” You heard him ask. Guffawing, you finally loosened up. And all the sudden, you were in good spirits once again. He was good at that. But before you could answer, a young man knocked on your door.

“Mr.Wayne…Mr.Fox is ready to see you now” He said, as you both looked over to him.

Nodding, You and Bruce slowly got up. Except the manner in which he stood up, it was evident he was waiting for your answer. Suppressing a grin, you folded your arms to look at him.

“Took boxing for a month…got busy so I stopped” You replied coolly, “No big story there…”

Bruce smirked, birthing baby butterflies in your stomach.

“Too bad…you should have continued…” he said, “That was a good punch”

Smiling eventually, you watched him walk away. You watched him in his swagger, making his way through the office, causing everyone’s heads to turn once more. Suffice to say, you were on his good side, apologies made and resolved. All seemed fine once again.

But that did not mean you were not disrupted by the irresistible feeling of warmth. The warmth that attempted to glaze your heart. Getting over him seemed to be difficult than expected. You sighed to yourself.

Why must he be so wonderful?

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The Gotham skyline at night was simply a wide opened jewel box. Glancing upon it was simply a blessing to the eyes. And the blessed view was especially superb from the Wayne Tower. Admiring the view, you slung your handbag over your shoulder, making your way out of your office. No one worked on your floor at this late hour tonight, except one. Catching the lights of that one office, you could not help but smile, as well as feel a strain in your heart.

“Why are you still here?”

Lillian Foster inquired, when her senses caught your staring at her from the door. Leaning against it, you grinned widely.

“I was studying the stuff you handed over and time just…flew by…” you replied with honesty, “..What about you?” You folded your arms questioningly, “Shouldn’t you be taking leave by now? To have a baby? Isn’t your due date tomorrow?”

Chuckling maniacally with a comedic element, Lillian leaned back on her chair, “Not before I leave you more homework …”

“Yay for me!…” you chuckled nervously, compelled to sit down. With her eyes focused on you for a few seconds, Lillian’s expression turned soft and quite concerned.

“I need to tell you something…” she said. Her tone forced you to lean forward, “I found out that…” she paused, “…the management is gonna hire a consultant to oversee operations in HR…”

Your eyes widened. The body began to grow hot with panic. “Wait! They think I need babysitting?” You scoffed. When Lillian nodded in acknowledgment, you knew it was no joke. You shook your head, “Unbelievable…” you muttered, trapped in thought for a few seconds, “Do you think it’s cause of the fight?” You asked, looking at her.

“Honestly…”shrugging her shoulders, Lillian began desperately,“I don’t know…This never happens. But please ! This is not the time to make any drama. Just…” extending her hand, her fingers collectively imitated a water stream, “….go with the flow, okay?”

You nodded begrudgingly.

“I don’t want you to lose your job” she continued, “…especially because of this stupid assault case. You can be tough. But fists don’t exactly need to be in the picture, you know?”

By the sheer desperation and the conviction in her tone, it was quite evident how Lillian was fighting your battles for you even before leaving. As if she was trying to leave remnants of her courage with you to weather all the coming storms. Moved, you pressed your lips together.

“Okay…”

You agreed, not looking away, “Shit!” You chuckled, “…Now I’m finally getting nervous…” rubbing your hands together, those pressed lips formed a tight smile, “I’m really gonna miss you…”

You would for certain. When opportunity arose for you to prove yourself and your experience to the Management, a sudden surveillance would be deciding the course of your career path at Wayne Enterprises. And that made your heart patter with fear.

But Lillian’s smile made that patter slow down.

“Only a few months…” she said, “…be strong”

You nodded. Cause that was all you could do. That was all you should do.

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When a yellow taxi halted in front of Wayne Tower, it felt like salvation had finally arrived. Similar to an angel in disguise.

“Go on! Take it!”

You cried out, looking at your boss. Reluctantly, Lillian got into the vehicle slowly while you held the door for her. As you closed the car door, you caught her guilty eyes quiver.

“Are you sure?” She inquired.Looking around, she bit her lip, “It’s late…” she said, throwing hints of concern at you. Relieved you were to not tell her about your mugging incident. If not, she would have never left your side.

“It’s okay…just take it. I’ll get another one…I promise! ” you assured her, “Go home safe. uh! Sir? ” you addressed the driver, whilst tapping on the roof of the car, “Please be careful, okay? This woman might give birth any minute”

“HEY!” Amidst Lillian’s yelling, You giggled.

 “You gotta use your pregnant perks, Boss!” You said coolly, smiling with a wave as the taxi departed. The further the taxi was from you, the curious thought was planted in you. What if tonight’s the night? Hopefully she will not give birth in the car like you actually joked about. Your lips formed a silent prayer for her while you waited for another cab.

But the waiting did not work out that well tonight either. Not even after waiting for half and hour.

“You gotta be kidding me?” You muttered to yourself with disbelief, looking at both sides of the road. “Better take the subway before it’s too late, Ma’am” Bill the doorman suggested.

Sighing, you began to walk in the direction of the nearest subway station. Thanks to muscle memory, your feet guided you through a small alley road. There you were, walking down the streets of Gotham on a late night once again. With fair reasons, your mind could not help but wander over to the horrid memory one night before. Your heart could not help but increase its heartbeat with concern by the thought of it. Indeed, this was your paranoia taking over your conscious. Why must you be worried when you practically grew up in this city?

Lightning never strikes twice, doesn’t it?

Besides, you were far from alone tonight. With this being a usual shortcut to get to the subway station, a few people would always linger in this alley road, making their way home. You even walked watching an affectionate couple far ahead of you, holding hands and grabbing each other for a kiss every once in a while, and with another pair of footsteps following a few feet behind you.

The couple disappeared from your sight as they turned a corner, leaving you walking alone with the other stranger behind you. Gotham city folk were normally always in a rush, shoving people past just to walk ahead would not be a surprise. Yet with all this space, the stranger kept walking behind you, even when your pace was relatively slow.

“Damnit!”

A greasy, burger wrapping paper got stuck under your shoe, forcing you to stop in your tracks. Whilst you were on a dire attempt to wipe it off, you realized the stranger did not pass you by, even if it was already one minute past. You looked behind you. There he was, a few feet away, also halted and looking at his phone. A surge of suspicion came over you. Were you being paranoid now?

Turning back, you resumed walking, only to realize his steps were loud once again. Pulse quickening, you prayed for safety. Only to be answered with a sudden ring of your phone. You looked at the screen anxiously. Your eyes widened:

Unknown Number

With your feet involuntarily planting you to the ground, you had no choice but to answer. “H-Hello?” You stuttered. “DUCK!” It was a voice, hoarse, yet familiar. “Wha?” Before you knew it, your body responded by lowering itself to the ground in a flash.Only to find Batman landing on to the ground in front of you, covering you like a shield as he threw a throwing star to the building in front. You gasped as the small object spun over to a sniper, who had positioned himself in one balcony. Electrocuted, the man let cries of pain, before losing consciousness within seconds. Batman turned to you swiftly:

“It’s you again!” He growled. His tone was in-distinctive, but you wished he was not angry with you.Getting up, you panted.

“I guess you remember from last time…” you breathed, “Wait! How did you get my-WATCH OUT!”

Your warnings were too late, as Batman fell on to the ground by a sheer force. It was indeed the stranger that had followed you. Paranoia had truly made sense. Pushing the man away with strength, Batman got up. And so did the man.

Dressed in a trench coat and a fedora, his features were hard to identify amidst the shadows. You lost all form of breath when you saw him draw out an exotic shaped sword from his jacket. And like the man from the night before, he did not waste time with the use of words. Backing against the brick wall, you clutched your chest when he jumped at Batman.

Blocking the sword with his hands, Batman kicked him in the stomach, sending the slender man flying back.

“What the hell is going on?” You cried out, almost on the verge of a nervous breakdown, “First last night…now this! Why?”

“Better figure this out another time” Batman grunted, motioning towards the man.

The caped crusader made perfect sense. For it seemed that Mr.Slender, as you called him in your head, seemed to was adept in martial arts. Jumping back up in an instant, his expression remained unchanged, proceeding to pick up his sword once again.

“Just go!”

You heard Batman yell. You looked at him with alarm. “But…But-” “GO!!!!!”

His roars were the last straw, urging your feet to drag you out of there as fast as possible. He was right. It made sense. Just when he was trying his hardest to save your life, it would be selfish to risk everything and waste the efforts taken. You ran fast, yet simultaneously you did not want to be the mere damsel in distress.

Taking the phone out, your fingers shook as you dialed for emergency services.

“911…what’s your Emergency?”

“Hello! Yes I’m calling to report an attack…” you spoke breathlessly, “uh….about half a mile away from the Gotham East Subway Station I think…” you continued, looking at the two figures who fought from afar. Given the intensity of the attack, you felt your legs turn wobbly, “Who? Well there’s me and-oh my god!”

You exclaimed, the moment Mr.Slender managed to attack Batman with a mini smoke bomb, bringing his defenses down, kicking him hard in the face. Your heart clenched, dropping your phone in response when you saw Batman crouch down in pain.

However, to Mr.Slender’s dismay, Batman took the advantage, kicking him in the knees while he crouched, bringing the man to the ground, finally punching him unconscious.

It was over, finally.

Relief washed over you. With your breathing slowing down, you wanted to run over to Batman. You wanted to show your concern. More importantly, you wanted to thank you with all your heart.

Except you could not. Especially when you froze.

Especially when you stood from afar, hidden from sight, only to witness his cowl shatter into several pieces. Only to reveal a face underneath, a face you never expected to see.

Bruce Wayne’s.

——————————————————

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jjmaybankx · 4 years

Text

HOLD HIM PT. 2 » JJ MAYBANK

Part two to HOLD HIM.

Summary: the days after John B and Sarah’s disappearance, watching JJ slowly become himself again

Warnings: angst, fluff

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Your parents didn’t oppose JJ sleeping in your bed next to you the nights after the disappearance of your friends. Despite preferring that the blonde slept in the spare room or on the floor, they didn’t say anything about the fact that he wasn’t. The truth was that he’d try to sleep in the spare room, and that only ended with him making a spot for himself by your bed. Soon, you had helped pull him into your own covers, holding him to your chest as he cried softly at night.

It had been a week of him barely speaking, ignoring any messages from Kiara and Pope, eating when your mom asked him to, and just laying in your bed. You had woken up to the spot next to you being empty. As sleep slowly faded away, you realized the spot was still warm, like he had just left. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes moisturize themselves.

You walked out of your bedroom to hear something searing against a pan in the kitchen, soft voices, the smell of bacon mixed with coffee. You turned into the archway that led to the kitchen, seeing JJ standing in front of the stove, his left hand holding a frying pan while his right held tongs, flipping over the bacon in the pan. Your mother was behind him at the kitchen island, using a fork to whisk up eggs, chopped vegetables on the cutting board next to her.

You smiled at the sight, both of them looking over to you when you leaned against the archway. They both smiled, the one on your mom’s face sadder than the one JJ was flashing on his own.

“Morning, gorgeous,” JJ said to you.

“Hi, honey,” you mom said.

“You guys making breakfast together?” you questioned even though you knew that they were.

“Yeah, JJ woke up while I was getting everything prepared and asked to help,” you mom explained.

You nodded slowly, standing up straight. “Imma brush my teeth, I’ll be right back.”

They both nodded, going back to what they were doing.

When you went into the bathroom, you leaned against the door. Somehow, your breath was knocked out of you, emotional over seeing JJ like that, like he was okay again, like his entire heart hadn’t been broken.

You brushed your teeth and just stood there, palms against the sink counter, staring at your reflection as you thought about JJ’s smile. As contrasted to the emotionless face you’ve been seeing or to the grief stricken one he had also been wearing, it shocked you to your core to see him up and at ‘em, like nothing was wrong.

The door opened, and you quickly had to wipe your eyes. The smell from the kitchen wafted in, but not through the open window, but because JJ himself smelt of breakfast. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as he looked at the mirror at you guys.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, nuzzling his head into your neck.

“Y-yeah,” you said shakily. “Are you?”

He tugged on your waist, turning you around so you faced him.

“I feel okay today,” he said honestly. “And I just couldn’t keep laying in bed feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t just keep laying there knowing you and your family were doing everything to make me feel better.”

You pulled him into a hug, running your hands through his hair.

“We’re here for you, always, J,” you told him, pulling away to look at him to see tears running down his face. You wiped them. “You can take all the time you need to grieve.”

He nodded, breaking down into tears again.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

A month had gone by with many fluctuations in JJ’s mood. Some days, he was good, he wanted to help out around the house, he wanted to go out. He still didn’t want to talk to Pope or Kiara, and you were starting to think it wasn’t because he didn’t want to see his friends, but it was because he’d break even more watching them look the way he looked. He knew their sad faces would just remind him of something that was already constantly running through his head.

A month had gone by, by the time he decided he was having one of his good days, and that he was craving shrimp and grits from the Wreck. Your father had said that he could go pick it up, but JJ insisted that he wanted you and him to go. You and your parents shared a knowing look, realizing JJ was moving on to the next step in his grieving process—confronting the feelings he’s been trying to avoid: sharing the pain with the Pogues.

You held his hand as you guys walked towards the door. He paused, looking at the door but making no movement to open it. You rubbed his arm encouragingly, and when he looked at you, you just nodded.

With a deep exhale, he pulled the door open and walked inside.

Mr. Carrera was standing at the counter, looking at the both of you with a sad smile when he saw you. He pulled up two to-go bags with the food you had ordered in advance.

“JJ? Y/N?” a shaky voice called out, and the both of you peered to the side of the restaurant.

Kiara slowly stood from her seat, where she was sitting with Pope. Pope’s expression was grave as he walked over, and Kiara didn’t conceal her sadness as she ran over into JJ’s arms. Pope walked over slowly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as his girlfriend cried in your boyfriend’s arms.

“How’s he been?” Pope whispered in your ear.

“The same,” you replied.

Despite JJ not responding to his friends himself, you had been their only contact to him. You’d send them updates on him, his mood, and they would tell you if they needed anyone to talk to, either. Despite not being all that close to them before, you guys still cared for each other.

Pope nodded and unwrapped himself around you, going to group hug his friends.

“C’mon guys, we’re gonna be fine,” JJ reassured his friends, a sad smile on his face as he attempted to be strong for them. “He did it all, Pogue style.”

This only made Kiara cry harder and a tear run down your face.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

JJ started to hang out with his friends again, but he didn’t go home. Your family made it clear you guys didn’t want him to go back home. Not with Luke Maybank being the person he was, not when John B lost the Phantom and no one knew if Luke was pissed about it.

You’d hang out with them now, doing things out on the Marsh, sneaking into empty houses. But nothing could erase the giant John B and Sarah Cameron sized holes in those teenagers.

But you were slowly watching as JJ’s smiles became real again, slowly watching as he started to become the sarcastic, idiot of a boyfriend you fell in love with. You could always see the grief in his eyes, but his smile was starting to reach his blue circles again.

taglist

@spilledtee @ellystone

tagging the people who reblogged part one so they can see this too

@tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @overly-b @thegreatestofheck @mrsmaybankhere @poguequeen @dankncgs @tomzfrog @jjandreidsgirl @ssprayberrythings @misfitsandall @kaylinfayezink @hmspxgue @chasefreakinstokes @bxllasanosa @apoguecalledjj @jjmaybanx @delilahandshawn @i-mmunity @blindedbyyourgrace17 @adoreyoudrews @lovelymaybankk @outerbanxxx @summerintheobx @tinycolorwhispers

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj imagines #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader

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angelkurenai · 5 years

Text

His Princess - Chris Evans x Reader

Title: His Princess

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: Hello!! I’m so happy your requests are open again! Can you write Chris Evans going on set to his gf’s music video of "Beauty and the Beast" (w/ John Legend) and he’s so happy to date a «princess» please?

“Alright, one more for the net. Just stay like that, you look wonderful!”

You couldn't help but giggle at the enthusiasm of the young assistant. What with your manager being unable to show up any of the days of the filming the way she normally would and her always wanting you to have someone with you all the time besides bodyguards, make up artists and stylists that would be there more as a friend than anything else. And so her assistant was yours for the week as well, and you would be lying if you said you weren't already having great fun just by being around her. Not to mention the excitement of being on the set itself and living the dream quiet literally already had you grinning the whole day long as you skipped around the place.

“Alright, is this good?” you asked, resting your chin on your palm, nearly kneeling down on the floor so that the dress looked more like a flower that had enveloped you whole. The maroon color only a great contrast against the white walls of the small room and the lights shining over your diamonds jewellery.

“That's perfect, yes!” she nearly squealed, snapping another photo that made you laugh “Alright, I'm pretty sure we've got more than plenty of photos and videos now. I'm gonna get out of your hair now and see what little I can post to tease the fans. Oh and Eric left the gloves on the chair in the corner. He said it would be best if you wore them because they wanted to run a few tests with cameras and see if they will keep them or not in the end.”

“Alright, Coco, don't worry. I've got this.” you nodded your head, already picking up the fabric and slipping it through your fingers “See you in a couple minutes!”

It wasn't long before you were left in your own devices by the assistant and a calm silence fell in the room. You looked at your reflection, fixing your gloves and dress you hummed the tune of the song.

Taking your phone you scrolled through your feed, one last time before you went to work, only to soon take notice of the photos that had already been uploaded by Coco and grinned widely when you saw that some of your friends had already commented, earning a soft laugh from you as you went through them. Most of them already knew about the filming you were doing for the song of the new Beauty and The Beast movie. You had been overly excited both about the opportunity to sing the song itself – alongside none other than John Legend at that – and even more film the music video. You were so thrilled even before you got started, there was no stopping you from telling your friends everything about it even before you got started.

After so many years in the music industry, so many worldwide tours and music videos and albums later, and more than just a few in the movie industry as well you had seen and experienced so many things and yet you still got so excited over the most simple projects. Much like this one, there was not a single thing you didn't look forward to. At first you were sure it was going to be in a unique location but it was a totally different thing getting to actually see it, especially when you realized that most of it was real and not just a green screen. So with a beautiful set, dressed quiet literally like a princess it was impossible for it all to not feel like a fairytale and have you enticed even before you got started.

“Disney princess or the new Queen of Asgard? Easily both!” Chris Hemsworth had commented.

“Could have not said it better, Chris! What would a King be without her Queen after all?” Tessa comments made you grin.

“Safe to say, running Marvel and Disney has never looked more classy!” it was one from RDJ.

“And then they said not to believe in fairytales. Looking stunning as ever! If you wanna switch up a Captain, I'm always available!” your friend's comment made you laugh and you made a mental note to reply to Brie the second you got the chance to.

“Alright, so what petition do I need to sign to have them make this a live-action Disney movie now?” Liz Olsen with a great variety of emojis.

You couldn't help your smile all the while you scrolled down the comments, seeing many more not just from costars, friends or other celebrities and plenty from fans; but it was all the while a bit too tight. It didn't reach your eyes, certainly not the more you looked and found no comment from your boyfriend. You knew you shouldn't hold it against him but part of you couldn't help but feel the first waves of sadness wash over your soul. Mainly because he was the one that knew most about this song and video clip, how nervous and excited you had been from the first moment; it felt like he had been with you the whole way through all of it and therefore you wanted him to see this too, even if it was only part of what was to come.

On one hand the fact that he was such a big Disney fan was no secret either and it had always made your eagerness to see his reaction to this grow even more. And on the other, loving the man so much meant that his compliments always held a different, much more big, significance to you. Maybe, you realised slowly as you dwelled on it more, it also had a lot to do with the way he said everything. There was always so much emotion in them, such great love and admiration and adoration and every other beautiful feeling he felt for you, showing through not only his words but also his eyes, expression and touches that after all these years you had learned to picture even when he was not close to you.

You decided not to think any more of it, realising that he surely had work to do and it would be better if you focused on it. The fact that you missed said man because you had not seen him in over week due to said work completely put aside.

Setting your phone aside you started making some final checks on your dress and looks, getting the feel of it as you signed softly to yourself “Tale as old as time. True as it can be. Barely even friends, than somebody bends-”

“Unexpectedly.” the singing was soft in your ear, the breath fanning over your cheek and bare neck before a pair of arms sneaked around your waist and a pair of lips were pressed on your neck, making shivers run down your entire spine with such intensity you couldn't hold back a gasp. When a squeeze came next you didn't even have the time react because his one hand slid up to your arm and rested on your shoulders, drawing the familiar goosebumps you had so missed the past couple days.

You would have leaned back into the firm broad chest, the action as natural as blinking. Every curve and edge of your body always seemed to fit perfectly with his no matter the position and you would be a big liar if you said your body was already reacting to his touch. Your heart with its unruly heartbeat – one that easily matched his – and your lungs refusing to take in a deep breath as the pleasant warmth spread through hands around you were easily a sign of who it was, every cell in your recognizing the contact.

Your eyes widened and your vision nearly blurred as you turned around to face the man you had not even realized was there but could recognize even with your eyes completely closed. “Chris?”

“Your highness.” his smile got even bigger when you turned to lock eyes with his and oh wasn't that a sight to make your entire day worth it, if anything making all of your worries and fears disappear. His eyes were so soft, filled with so much adoration and almost sparkling in a way you had not seen before.

You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, unable to believe he was there, looking at you so lovingly. His hands were cupping your face and only when you heard him whisper “Hello, my love.” did reality dawn on you. Realizing it wasn't a dream you almost squealed before you jumped in his arms, wrapping yours around his shoulders. Earning a deep chuckle that made his chest ramble, you couldn't hold your own laughter when you felt it against your own chest.

“Oh my gosh.” you choked out, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to force yourself not to cry “Chris.” you pulled just slightly away to look into his eyes, cupping his face in both your hands. Your eyes roamed over his face, taking everything in as it felt nearly impossible to believe this was happening. You leaned in to press your lips to his in an urgent kiss that still earned a soft laugh from him. You let out a soft breath when you pulled away and as you rested your forehead against his you repeated “Chris.” and he smiled even more widely “You're here. How?”

“Do you really question that? I would travel from the other side of the world for you.” and his smile turned into a small smirk “Isn't that what a prince always does?”

“Why-” your smile turned more into a smirk as you slowly started pulling away, despite the small sound of protest that came from his lips “I didn't know you were officially my prince charming. That is a title that must be earned, is it not?”

“And it would be my greatest honor to...” he started with a small smirk of his own which eventually faded much like his words as he fully took in the sight of you in the beautiful gown, with the jewelry and gloves adorning the whole look, you realised he was completely at a loss for words.

“Well, seeing as you didn't see the photos posted on instagram yet, I'll ask now: How do I look?” you probably already looked confident enough but that didn't mean you didn't want to hear his opinion more than anybody else's.

“Dear” his eyes were wide as he took everything in “Marry me already.”

And as you expected it wasn't he words, or at least not only the words, which made your heart leap to your throat. It was the pure love and awe that filled his eyes, his smile brighter than you had ever seen it. It was the way his voice became low, almost hoarse as if his throat closed from the overwhelming emotion in his chest. It was the way he reached out for you again and slowly traced his fingers over yoru cheek, touch light as a feather, as if he feared to break you. In his eyes you saw you were more than just a fragile porcelain doll, way more important and precious to him than anything actually.

“I'm fairly sure I wouldn't mind the idea, however, should you not do something heroic to say the least to earn that right? To have the hand of a princess and even more her heart, that requires more effort, don't you think?” you said with a smirk and he chuckled before straightening his back.

“Why, your highness, had I known you'd be so open to the idea I'd have brought the ring with me. It has been tucked in the back of my drawer for too long, I fear.” he said it so casually and truthfully, without a hint of pretend for the sake of the small momentary fairytale you were living through, that it made you pause for a second to hold your breath and blink at him.

Too caught up with your own thoughts you didn't even have the chance to question anything when he spoke again. A soft laugh escaped his lips as he slowly took both your hands in his, the act slipping for the moment, as he whispered again “My gosh, you look stunning. How did I ever get so lucky in my life?”

“It's no big deal.” you felt bashful all of a sudden and you were well aware it was because of the way your heart had sped up at the thought of said ring which he had joked about a long time ago but not in this way, not with such underlacedhonesty and seriousness.

“No big deal?” his eyebrows raised “I'm standing in front of the most beautiful disney princess to ever exist, both on the inside and on the outside. And on top of it all she is my girl and only mine. I'd say I don't deserve this kind of love but who am I to judge? My ideal fairytale I coming to life, this is too good to be true and yet it is. I'll take whatever you have to give me and offer everything I can in return. Who knows-” he pulled away, you not having realized when his forehead had come to rest against yours “Maybe I'll do a job good enough or the ring will be impressive enough to make at least a bit something like a prince charming.”

The wink he sent your way earned a laugh from your own lips, easing some of the tense feeling in your chest. You realised there was no reason to dwell on it or overstress it, not at the moment, so you let your smile become more easy if not more teasing “I'm sure you'd have plenty to offer, my kind sir. But first, if only in order for a proper courtship, you must have to catch me, don't you?”

“I must wha-” he started but all words died on his lips. You were sure he had already caught up somehow, the glint in his eyes telling you as much, but didn't give him the chance to fully question it before you were already pulling away from him and with a wink, opening the door and sprinting down the long hallway.

You heard the deep laugh, filling the entire hallway and with only the smallest glance over your shoulder you saw the man start to follow you fast enough. Grinning you picked up your dress and with that, picked up your pace so that you were running. As if the feeling of the dress bouncing around like a soft cloud, the air warm inside the building but present nonetheless - not only because of the running but also because of the studio you were fast approaching and that you remembered had more than a few doors and windows – wasn't enough to make you laugh, hearing your boyfriend's laughter as he tried to catch you get louder made you feel as if you were flying more than running.

“(Y/n)? What are you-”

You recognised the voice immediately but didn't have the time to reply let alone stop for even a second when you heard Chris get closer “Can't talk now Chrissy, I gotta go! Ah!” you actually yelped – or perhaps it was her, though the laughter that came next were surely hers when your boyfriend nearly bumped into John's wife and his apologies were the proof because you didn't turn to see – before you quickly run around a corner and down some stairs.

It wasn't even a couple seconds later that you found yourself running inside the studio itself, the cameras all around as the crew was setting everything up for the filming. You almost got so carried away by the entire place, many things having been added since the morning when you first showed up, and in the middle of admiring the realistic set of a castle they had managed to build. You were sure if you had not been in any hurry, you could have easily spent hours wanderingaround the place and admiring the detailed work, getting lost in a daydream much like a fairytale. But, again, you were in a hurry and as you felt the first fingers slip over your waist, aside from earning a small yelp from you they managed to get you moving again, or more specifically running.

“You have to be faster than that, darling.” you grinned, rounding the piano so that you were on the one side and he on the other.

“Who says I am being nearly half as fast as I can really be? Who says that if I really wanted to I wouldn't already have my hands on you?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow at you that made you giggle “I am merely being your perfect prince charming.”

“Alright, first; I like the sound of that but it's not going to make me give in just yet. And second; we both know that you're just being a sore loser here. You haven't caught me yet not because you can't. You're also a sore looser, not a prince charming, dear.”

He groaned, placing a hand over his chest “Another wound, all within the span of only a couple minutes. How do I survive this? Oh yes, in fairytales, a kiss always always does wonders, doesn't I? If only my princess would be kind enough to not run away from me anymore and instead save my life?”

You had to admit that although he was being both dramatic and cheeky, and you had to keep serious, you couldn't hold back your wide smile as you spoke “For starters, you will have to earn it. And-” you paused, jumping away as he made a move to run around the piano but you were fast to get away so that you had now swapped places “If I may ask, what's the first one?”

“Wouldn't you know? As if you can't see my bleeding heart which has been struck worse today at seeing you like this. But-” another jump that got him dangerously close “I suppose if I can't get a kiss, I will make it my last wish that you wear a similar dress soon.” his words made you frown until he added “Only in total white. And really, the soonest possible so we should probably start making a guests list.”

“Chris” you caught yourself pausing, longer than expected and than should be right in this case but you felt like you had no control of your body at the moment “This is not a funny joke anymore.”

“Who said it was one in the first place?” he asked, and you could swear you heard Chrissy and John gasp softly in the background. At some point you had even seen them but now your entire mind was blank. You focused on Chris, his voice much softer than before, his posture having relaxed as if to let you know he wasn't playing any game of sorts “And maybe-” he took a slow tentative step towards you, eyes on you to judge your reaction all the time. When he saw you didn't move away from him, he took more steps closer to you “If you'd let me, I could show you real soon that I was serious from the first moment.”

“Wha-” but you stopped yourself because you knew that wasn't the answer you wanted so bad to ask, it wasn't the one your heart longed for to be answered so instead you whispered “How?”

Chris leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead, extending a hand which you took before he said another hing “First, I believe it's best if you get to job as fast as possible. And for that to happen, it would be right of me to stop playing around. So, what do you say we start things the way only in fairytales they do: a dance?”

“It doesn't necessarily happen in this order but-” you smiled, glancing over his shoulder to see John and his wife do the same, the music having only second now starting to play “I think we've already found the perfect song, so why not?”

“Think of it... as practice.”

#chris #chris evans #chris imagine #chris evans imagine #chris x reader #chris evans x reader #chris fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #chris one shot #chris evans one shot #beauty and the beast

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theabominableblogger · 4 years

Text

My Reaction... to “Pocahontas II: Journey to a New World”

Who decided that this was a good idea? Who?

OH it just starts right away! Oh dang. No opening logo or nothing.

I will be extremely surprised if they somehow managed to wrangle Mel Gibson back as John Smith

AN: It’s his younger brother Donal Gibson

Also this is such a strange way to start a movie about Pocahontas- a rooftop sword fight

What am I watching?

Why is the King of England wanting to start a war with the- oh wowww the animation really dipped

“Walt Disney Home Video” well that explains everything

How did they get the news of John Smith’s “death” already? Mail must travel really freaking fast over the Atlantic

If this setting was animated with the original animation crew for the first movie, this scene with Pocahontas in the snow would look gorgeous

Wait wasn’t her necklace broken in the first movie?

It would have been interesting if we actually see a shot of Pocahontas just reacting to the news of John Smith’s “death”. That way we as viewers just feel the gravitas and impact it has on her instead of just cutting to the shot of the ship leading into the opening credit bit.

Oh that shot [of Pocahontas above the frozen river in the snow) is gorgeous

“I beg your pardon!” “All right. You have it.” *snorts*

I almost feel like they put a little more effort into the culture of Pocahontas’s tribe. I mean I don’t know if it’s entirely accurate- probably not- but it feels like it.

HEY GET THIS THOUGH. The original screenwriters thought that taking the plot of this movie for the FIRST one would be too complicated and violent. WOW.

AND they took creative license anyway because of the actual story of Pocahontas is... not great. Look I’m not even gonna deny that even though they made creative differences in order to convey the story to a younger audience and you can tell some of the filmmakers mean well to be partially accurate but the other executives just want the movie to make money and that’s it. They don’t care that even though racism is addressed like in little spoonfuls here, it’s still racism.

Plus Katzenburg didn’t really have the balls to address the effect of assimilation or the whole “noble savage” concept. He just wanted the moolah.

AN: I’m sorry if I’m ranting but I’ve written ESSAYS ABOUT THIS. I spent an ENTIRE SEMESTER writing about this stuff. Seriously.

ALSO ALSO FUN FACT: GREGORY PECK was originally cast as the spiritual ancestor in the first movie but he dropped out because he made the point to the writers that the character had to be a maternal figure instead of a male one. Boom now we have Grandmother Willow.

Also I like that when the Indians first see the horse, they’re a little perturbed by it.

Meanwhile my anthropology part of my brain is just screaming

Oh my God I just realized where I’ve heard the actor that played Powhatan from... he’s the Navajo man from “Natural Born Killers”.

Also yes I have seen “Natural Born Killers”

One kudos I’ll grant to this is that they put more nuance into Pocahontas’s facial expressions. You can see her squint in frustration or just glare someone into oblivion.

Or this scene where her best friend says goodbye. There is just so much emotion in this shot alone. The animators had to have used reference shots for bits like this.

*Meeko gets stuck in the mop for cleaning the deck* Comedy

“And honor is the backbone of our civilization.” OK we’re getting somewhere.

Ah yes, London. Nothing but the colors purple, yellow, blue and cobblestone as far as the eye can see.

Also yes England so they’re gonna throw in EVERY stereotypical European clothing style EVER on the general population

Freaking Shakespeare...

They bumped up the animation whenever Ratcliffe shows up. Priorities.

Mrs. Potts is the teapot on the table!

You can tell that the writers are TrYinGGgg to mature the characters by addressing that yes Ratcliffe is manipulating the king to do what he wants.

“You look lovely... in your underwear-” SHE’S WEARING MORE THAN WHAT SHE ORIGINALLY WORE. WHY ARE YOU AVERTING YOUR EYES?

*Pocahontas tries putting the corset on as a bonnet* Yes

Why is Mrs. Jenkins giving Pocahontas a crinoline? In 17th century London? The hoop idea didn’t even come around until like the 1850s

Unless it’s a farthingale. But it’s obviously NOT

“John’s always had a fondness for girls with curls.” HMM

The sound of Pocahontas’s necklace hitting the table sounds exactly like those really thick magnetic rocks clashing together

This movie definitely has a different vibe from the first one. It’s just focused on letting these events happen and there’s an emphasis on scale. Like they let this scene where Pocahontas finally meets the king pause because she does not know how to address him.

Oh! And the general population is established by them just being really curious about her and not immediately cursing her. They’re just as “ooh and aah” about her as she is about them.

The king is 100% voiced by Jim Cummings

Oh man this animation... rough...

WHAT?!?

Did... did I just step into a different movie? What the heck am I watching?

This song is like a weird hybrid of “Playing with the Big Boys” from Prince of Egypt and one of the other songs from Hunchback of Notre Dame

Bear baiting? What?

Discount Strider there’s gotta be John Smith

That animation of John Smith walking toward the screen was definitely rotoscoped

If the rest of this third act is just this weird sword fight, I’m signing out

Oh so no... third act fight?

“You [John Rolfe] love her.” I mean it’s a little weak sauce but I can tell they tried.

I just realized what’s up with this movie: it’s like a really weak Wonder Woman movie. Seriously.

I... have actually no idea how the rest of the third act is gonna go.

What exactly is Governor Ratcliffe governor of?

John Smith is not written well at all in this movie. And I don’t know what to think of his “mmm hmm good show old sport” back and forth with Rolfe

OK so if we’re gonna end this movie with the ships clashing together and a weird sword fight on board, at least tell me Pocahontas is gonna duke it out with Ratcliffe where she sends him overboard. Please.

*John fights him instead* COME ON

Well that was disappointing

They’re TRYING to amp up the romance between these two and it’s just... eehhh so close... but dishonest.

Whoever is voicing John Smith is like trying to do some pseudo-British version of Mel Gibson and it’s weird

I do like this contrast between John Smith who is like “I have great plans for exploring the world where we can always be together” and John Rolfe who is like “I want to establish a peace between us two without forsaking each other” and I wish more effort was spent on THAT

BUT WE CAN’T. For historical reasons.

John Rolfe, what kind of shirt are you wearing?!?

THEY SAVED THE BEAR!

Hmm. It just ended.

IS THIS JUDY KUHN AND BILLY ZANE SINGING IN THE END CREDITS??

#the blogger reacts #disney #pocahontas #pocahontas ii #journey to a new world #billy zane #judy kuhn #racism #i'm losing my mind #jim cummings #john rolfe #john smith #q post

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

And I’ll Succumb To You part 2

Part 1

Summary: It’s been nearly a month since you joined the Van der Linde gang. With your next heat on the horizon, you and Arthur set out to find a new bottle of Lilith’s Blessing.

Warnings: Smut, duh. ABO dynamics. And cursing.

AN: THIS CAME OUT TO 10,808 WORDS. Please enjoy ya thirsty hos! I may also make a part 3.

A whole three weeks passed since your life changed. Three weeks since you’d gone from a lone bounty hunter to a part of one of the most notorious gangs in the United States.

You’d been dozing peacefully on the back of Arthur’s horse by the time the two of you reached camp. His low voice aroused you from your slumber as he helped you to the ground. He tied his horse to a hitching post before repeating it with your horse. He then proceeded to remove your things, which you protested and said you could do it, only for him to shake his head and insist.

Arguing would have gotten you nowhere, so you followed him into the surprisingly large camp. A mixture of scents hung heavy in the air. The first thing you’d noticed was the campfire directly in the center, glowing bright orange against the fabric of the tents and dark wood of the wagons. People were sitting around it, and as soon as you got closer, heads turned.

You hadn’t expected such a big welcome.

Arthur had placed you in the care of the camp girls. A small group of them you found were excited to take you in. Karen and Mary-Beth were both Omega and thankful to have another in camp to bond with. Abigail was another Omega who had her hands full with a child of her own. Tilly was a Beta, though did not look down upon you which you were thankful for. Molly, another Beta, you found kept more to herself and greeted you politely before wandering toward one of the more extravagant tents. You also soon found they had a ringleader: A woman named Susan Grimshaw, the only female Alpha you’d ever met in your lifetime. Female Alphas were about as rare as a male Omega, and simply being in her presence was both awesome and overwhelming.

After they’d set up your bedroll underneath a hanging tarp next to a wagon, you were introduced to the others. The men, a mix of both Alpha and Beta. Dutch Van der Linde, the leader, was an Alpha and wary about your presence given your reputation. However after speaking with his right-hand man, Hosea Matthews and Arthur, Dutch begrudgingly accepted you as a new member.

Over time you’d gotten to know the rest. The others were…colorful characters, if you could call them that. They were a group of misfits from wherever just trying to get by in life in any means possible. If it meant robbing folk or doing good deeds.

It took a while for you to leave by yourself, due to Dutch’s orders. You were confined to camp for the first week with unseen eyes on you. Then began the small tasks, going into town for a grocery trip or hunting usually accompanied by someone else. You couldn’t complain, it was something to do and kept food in your belly. Once Dutch began to realize you weren’t going to turn on them, he began to send you out for bigger missions alongside the girls or the other men.

Today however, was a different. You’d woken up to the sounds of movement around you. Opening your eyes, you’d watched as Mary-Beth packed things into her satchel. The others were bustling around more than usual amongst the camp, moving sacks of supplies toward the horses. It confused you, wondering if it was possibly time to switch locations. However, you realized it was only a few people, a few people specifically. It was then when an all too familiar scent wafted into your nose: the heat of the other Omegas.

Karen and Mary-Beth had left with Susan and a few others, mentioning they’d be half-day’s travel away. Hosea explained they would be protected by the Alphas and Betas while they chose how to sate their desires, if it meant finding someone else to help or taking care of it by themselves. Abigail, you found, stays behind for the sake of Jack after obtaining some Lilith’s Blessing. She grumbled about how his father wouldn’t be competent enough to fill in as a parent for a week in her absence.

With the camp emptier, it felt both strange and relaxing. You kept yourself busy by helping the others run errands or fulfill other missions in the meantime.

A couple of days passed, you’d come back to camp after aiding John and Javier in a burglary. It fairly late then, the sun low in the sky and casting red hues amongst the surrounding woods. Your horse was sweaty and tired, so you untacked her and began to brush her damp coat.

The sound of twigs snapping caught your attention, and you turned to see Arthur walking past. He caught your eye and smiled politely, giving you a short wave before turning his attention forward. You’d returned the gesture before turning back to your horse, although your mind began to wander.

You two really hadn’t spoken about your encounter. You’d mutually agreed to not mention it to the others to avoid any awkward questions. You and he however barely spoke after that. The first few days in camp he would check in and see how you were adjusting. He’d greet you in the mornings and bid you a good night when turning in, or sit next to you at the campfire with idle chatter on some nights. He was usually busy anyway, often gone on missions or hunting trips. As the weeks passed by, he would intrude your thoughts and dreams.

Sure, he was handsome. Additionally he was sweet and showing a surprisingly soft side. The way he spoke to the girls and treated the others in camp was a stark contrast from the man that once intimidated you in Big Valley just weeks ago. How gentle he was with Jack melted your heart at times. Despite his Alpha nature, he never used his position to abuse the power he had over others. He was, after all, third in command. He was a decent man. More than decent actually. Sometimes you’d catch yourself staring at him for a second longer than intended. You also could have sworn you caught him gazing at you on more than one occasion, though his eyes would quickly avert when you did a double-take.

You breathed out a heavy sigh, leaning forward to plant your forehead against your horse’s neck. Surely you shouldn’t be falling for him, it seemed silly to even consider.

Someone called your name. You stood up straight and saw Tilly walking up to you out of the corner of your eye. You turned to face her, offering a smile to her. “Hey Tilly.”

“Hey Y/N. Mind if I speak with you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Of course, what is it?”

“Well…” she stepped up to your horse, offering the tired steed a carrot, whose ears perked up immediately and greedily munched the snack straight from Tilly’s hand. “Have you given thought on what you’re going to do with your heat?”

You blinked. “My heat?” you repeated. “I don’t know…” Your unused tonic had soured and you hadn’t had the time to seek out the market for a new one. You supposed you could make an attempt and ask Abigail where she received hers.

“Are you going to have Arthur again?” Tilly asked simply.

You blinked and spluttered, taken aback by her words. “Wha-how did you know?”

Tilly’s lips stretched into a knowing smile. “Could smell him on you when we got close to ya, and not cause you was sharing a horse.”

You bit your lip shyly, turning your head away. “It was just a one-time thing,” You huffed, keeping your voice low. “He and I just met and…well… it was just the wrong place at the wrong time,” you of course never told anyone that you were hunting him, and he also kept his mouth shut about that.

“You sure? Cause I’ve seen the way you stare at one another across camp. Seems like there’s something else going on, thought you’d ask him when the time comes.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you mumbled. “I’m just gonna ask Abigail where she got her Lilith’s Blessing. Should be easy enough.”

“Alright. Just let Miss Grimshaw know when she returns about what you plan on doing in case things go south,” Tilly replied before she reached over to pat your shoulder, and headed back to camp.

---

With the sun rising bright and early through camp, you planned your day ahead of time. Abigail mentioned she purchased the tonic from a seller in Emerald Ranch, a place you were familiar with and was just a few hours’ ride away. You’d gathered a few supplies needed and saddled up your horse. You mentioned to Tilly your whereabouts just in case anyone asked. It had been a while since you’ve gone on a journey by yourself.

You hoped you would have just a simple trip to get what you need and come back without a hitch.

Just as you tightened the cinch, and heard a voice from a few feet away.

“Where you headin’ off to?”

Of course it was Arthur. Your heart skipped a beat once you recognized him. Your arms fell to your sides and you turned to face him. His hands were gripping his gun belt with one hip slightly cocked to the side. You had to admit to yourself you loved when he grabbed his gun belt like that, as if it were a subtle way to exude his power. His face held an expectant expression.

“I’m…heading to Emerald Ranch,” you explained. “See if I can get my hands on some Lilith’s Blessing.”

Arthur nodded in understanding. “You, uh, close?”

“Still a few days off, I think. Which is why I’m heading out now,” you answered while turning back to your horse and preparing to mount on. As you pulled yourself up, you heard Arthur speak again.

“Mind if I join ya?”

You swung a leg over and seated yourself comfortably in your saddle, and then looked down at Arthur. You couldn’t fathom a reason why he’d go. Perhaps as protection? Sometimes Lilith’s Blessing sellers were more untrustworthy than others, but you could handle yourself regardless. However, there was no reason for him not to go. Finally you said, “Sure, come on then.”

Arthur didn’t take long to grab his own satchel before mounting his horse and coming up alongside you. You two rode together silently through the woods for the first few minutes until he spoke.

“So, how you likin’ it so far?” he asked curiously.

“Well it’s different,” you answered, turning you gaze up to the patches of sunlight that shone through the leaves above. “I like being somewhere where our statuses don’t matter. Feels like I’m a part of a family for the first time in a long time.”

“That’s what’s important,” Arthur rumbled. “We take care o’ one another as you saw. Glad you’re fittin’ in too.”

You nodded in response. Up ahead the forest gave way to a field, the blue sky expanding across the green landscape. As the two of you crossed the tree line, your gaze wandered over to him. His body was slightly hunched over on his horse while you loped graciously across the landscape. His forearms were bare, the sun shining brightly on his skin. His tightly corded muscles angled in the light, thick and strong. Your eyes shifted to observe the rest of his body. You’d never actually seen him naked, however you remembered how felt against you. Warm and strong and solid.

“Hey, you alright?” he suddenly asked. You blinked back into focus and saw him staring right at you.

You’d nearly flinched from being caught, and turned your head back to face straight. You couldn’t let yourself fantasize over that, not like it would ever happen again anyway. You’d fallen silent for the rest of the ride, only speaking once or twice and keeping the conversation short.

You reached Emerald Ranch by early afternoon. You’d stopped briefly to eat a quick meal before going about your business. It was a small place, full of Betas like most towns were. You’d never felt uncomfortable here.

“Where do we find what we’re lookin’ for?” Arthur asked you, casually walking beside you.

You tilted your head toward one of the barns. “The fence behind there, he keeps tabs on the local sellers.”

He nodded in response, keeping in step with you as you headed to your destination. Up ahead you could see a small caravan of people both on wagons and horseback rolling through. The scent hit you first however, the overwhelming Alpha musk carrying with the breeze.

Out of the corner of your eye, Arthur stepped even closer, placing his body between you and them in an almost protective manner. His hand hovered over your lower back, so close the heat radiated from his skin was felt through your shirt. He kept you closer to the side as the others passed, his eyes never leaving them.

Once they were a good distance away, Arthur stepped away to his previous space. You looked at him, noting how tight his jaw was clenched.

“Arthur?”

He looked down at you. “Eh, sorry. Jus’ wanna make sure they didn’t get any ideas…”

“They wouldn’t have smelled me yet, I’m not close enough to my heat,” you pointed out.

“I know. But jus’ in case,” he murmured.

You looked at him for a second longer, curious as to why he was so keen on protecting you at that moment. Then again being in a blended gang probably meant he had to fulfill the same role for the other Omegas. You decided to not question it further and continue on.

The fence was in the spot he always was, a little shack nestled at the end of the barn. Arthur still remained at your side, though stepped back slightly to allow you to do your business. The fence locked eyes with you as you approached him, a dry smile crossing his face.

“Haven’t seen ya in a while,” he said casually.

You nodded in response, stepping closer to lean in. “Darkness is a blessing in disguise, ain’t it?” you murmured, using one of the few phrases known for discussing the tonic in public.

The fence frowned slightly. “Sorry, it’s all sunshine here,”

Your heart sank immediately. It meant that the seller in question had left. “Er, do you know when the sun sets?”

“Can’t say I do, miss,” he responded while shaking his head. “I ain’t no time teller.”

You sighed in frustration, turning to Arthur with a sour look on your face. You gestured for him that it was time to go, and he nodded wordlessly, confusion crossing his own face.

He waited until you were out of earshot of anyone close by before he said anything. “What was that about?”

“Seller ain’t here,” you grumbled, storming up to your horse and yanking the reins from the post with more force than necessary. “And he didn’t know where they went.”

“Oh,” was all he said in response. You saw him chew on his lip out of the corner of your eye as he went to mount his own horse. “Er…y’know anyone else that might know?”

“No,” you huffed, urging your mare into a smooth canter. “That’s the thing. They move around without any word on where they go next. They leave clues for Omegas to find, but I don’t even know where to start looking.”

Arthur hadn’t replied, and the two of you rode in silence across the green expanse of the Heartlands. The fourth week was soon, and you knew your heat would be quick to follow. You didn’t have days to run around trying to find something that may not be there in the first place.

If only you could find a clue, or pick up at least the tiniest hint of a trail. Most sellers were Betas that didn’t have unique scent markers like an Omega or Alpha would, which made it easier for them to avoid unwanted company. They were very rarely in the same place twice. Had you been on top of this, you would have taken care of this issue before it was even an issue.

Would you have to resort back to your old ways of pleasuring yourself, leaving you not so quite satiated? Arthur told you there were alternative methods of your choice. You knew Karen was keen on bedding someone to relieve hers while Mary-Beth opted to keep to herself. Neither sounded pleasant to you.

A flash of memory crossed your mind. That night with Arthur…the way your body so readily accepted him. You were inebriated by your own desire then, clouded by the temptation of his musk and the swell of his knot. It was as if you were given the best meal of your life after being fed gruel.

What a dangerous sensation to chase.

You sighed and shook your head. It certainly won’t happen again. You couldn’t risk giving yourself to anyone like that ever again.

“What do ya plan to do?” Arthur interrupted your train of thought, breaking the long silence.

Hell, you still weren’t sure at that point. “I don’t know,” you groaned, clenching the reins in your fists hard. “I used to…just do it myself. Suppose that’s what I’ll have to do again.”

“But that don’t take it all away, right?” Arthur pressed.

“Never. It’s never enough…” you trailed off, pursing your lips. There was a curve in the road ahead, and the two of you slowed down.

Arthur took the opportunity to step his horse closer to yours. “Unless you…” he muttered, trailing off.

You nodded, answering his unasked question. Your memory was once again taken back, vividly reminiscing the way his hands held you, the way he was careful to move you before his knot released. It was nature’s intention to put an Alpha and Omega together. Those few moments of sweet bliss, as if you two were meant to be one… “Never knew how it felt like until you came along.” you turned your eyes to him, noting the look of interest he had on changed to surprise.

“Wait, I was your first?” he exasperated. When you nodded again, he brought his hand to his face, rubbing it as he let out a groan. “Christ… ‘M so sorry, that jus’ makes me feel worse…”

“Worse?” you repeated.

His gaze met yours with a solemn, shameful stare. “Didn’t even know you was a virgin. Takin’ somethin’ like that away from ya in that moment…”

You sighed heavily. That never mattered to you in the slightest, especially when the last thing on your mind was mating with someone. “Didn’t matter then, doesn’t matter now. Besides, we’re both guilty anyway.”

Arthur appeared as if he were going to say something else, instead he shook his head and sighed. “Maybe we can find, uh…another seller? There’s more than one, right? They gotta be ‘round somewhere.”

“Sure but not many,” you grumbled. “Arthur, I appreciate the help, but we ain’t gonna find one before my heat. I know that much. Like I said, they move around without much word.”

“You dunno that for sure,” he pointed out. “It’s worth a try.”

“Why are you so determined on finding one?” You asked, giving him a look. “Not like you’d get any benefit from it.”

“Jus’ wanna make sure you get what ya need,” he answered. “I know how much ya hate your heats.”

That little slip of truth in that moment, you remembered. You felt flattered that he’d come such lengths to try, yet at the same time it seemed unnecessary. Despite what happened between the two of you, neither of you had an obligation to one another. “You don’t have to, you know,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he murmured, so quiet you had to strain to hear him through the rhythmic hoofbeats and the wind whipping your face. “I jus’ thought I try to help ya this time. If you don’t want it, then I’ll head back to camp. Your call.”

You blinked in surprise. In truth you weren’t exactly sure what you’d expected with Arthur coming along. You were resigned to the idea of riding out your heat by self-pleasuring in a cabin somewhere. However, his determination refused to wither. He wanted to help you. He went out of his way just to make sure you purchased the tonic. You admired his persistence. Maybe with his help, it could be possible. You eventually responded with, “I guess we can try. But the moment I start feeling it, we need to stop.”

Arthur looked at you for a moment, and nodded in understanding. “Sure.”

—

You started in Valentine, a knowing there could be some people milling about with information. Mere droplets were shared, only learning of rumors and tales rather than anything concrete. There had been a seller there just a day before, but with no direct route of passage of where they went next. From what you gathered, the seller was headed either to Annesburg or Saint Denis. East as a general direction that also meant adding a day’s worth of travel after having traveled in the opposite direction.

You and Arthur left just as the sun was setting, casting beautiful warm hues across the Heartlands. He was hasty with his departure, ensuring there was as least time as possible in getting to your destination. The two of you decided to tackle Saint Denis first, hoping to pick up leads in a more densely populated area before moving on to Annesburg if needed.

The night grew later and your eyelids began to grow heavy. You’d just passed the state line into Lemoyne, the air much warmer and more humid than the clear atmosphere of New Hanover. The heat that surrounded you like a blanket was not helping your fatigue. When you yawned widely, Arthur decided to set up camp.

Soon you found yourself sitting in front of a small fire. Arthur found a small clearing surrounded by a few trees far enough from the road to not draw too much attention. After setting up your respective tents and getting a fire going, he left to hunt and assured you he would be near enough in case there was any trouble. You hadn’t been sitting by yourself for very long, and you let yourself succumb to your thoughts.

Saint Denis was just a half a day’s worth of travel from where you were right now. You hoped you could find better answers there. If not, then it would take almost another day to make it up to Annesburg. Arthur mentioned you two could take the train to save some time. A practical idea, but you were hoping it wouldn’t be needed.

You always had a good grasp of when your heat would start. However, you were beginning to grow anxious on how close it was cutting. Unlike before you were not afraid to confront it without the tonic now, but having it possibly start in unfamiliar territory was daunting.

The sounds of grass rustling caught your attention, and you smelled Arthur before you could see him. He appeared out of the darkness, hands laden with a few rabbits. He caught your gaze and offered you a half-smile.

“Doin’ alright?” he asked.

“As well as ever,” you answered, sitting up and watching him begin to skin the rabbits. “How about you?”

Arthur’s eyes swiveled back to you, a momentary look of faint confusion crossing his face before he focused back to the meat. “I’m alright I guess.” After managing to section the meat, he stuck some on his knife and knelt down over the fire.

It took a few minutes for the meat to finish cooking. The savory smell wafted to your nose and your stomach rumbled. Arthur handed some pieces to you, and you began to munch on them gratefully. It wasn’t a full meal but it was enough to keep you sated until tomorrow.

Besides the crackle of the fire and the sounds of nature surrounding you, it was quiet. You were staring into the dancing flames, letting your mind wander once again. Your fatigue was beginning to settle after sitting for so long and you were prepared to turn in for the night. You lifted your head to tell Arthur, only to find him staring at you.

His reaction was just a second too late, turning his head away and awkwardly clearing his throat. You blinked. “Something wrong, Arthur?”

“Er, nothin’,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

It only occurred to you then it was the first time that you were alone with him since that fateful night. You wondered what was going through his mind at the moment. Was he too thinking back to it? You remembered the conversation you had earlier, how he felt ashamed of taking your innocence. You supposed an otherwise hardened outlaw would not care about a woman’s virtue. But he did.

You also realized that you didn’t really know much about him past the outlaw life. Almost a month living in the same camp together and he was still a stranger to you. Contemplating on picking his brain a little, you scooted slightly closer. Your movement aroused him and he offered a look of curiosity.

“What’re you thinking about?” you asked lightly.

His gaze broke from you, a small shrug on his shoulders. “Nothin’ in particular, why?”

“Just curious,” you admitted. “Quite frankly…I don’t know much about you.”

He scoffed at your response, his eyes rolling in the golden light. “I ain’t a man worth knowin’, especially after what I done.”

You frowned slightly. “I know your ledger ain’t the cleanest-”

“I meant with you,” he interrupted. “I know you said it don’t matter, I just can’t help feelin’ guilty over it still.”

You breathed out a heavy sigh. “Arthur, we were both guilty. I was the one who lured you in, remember? Wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t go after you in the first place.”

“Shouldn’t have fallen for that trap,” he chuckled without humor. “But I took advantage of you…your heat... I can hold myself together around an Omega, but somehow…”

As he trailed off, you nodded in understanding. An Alpha’s rut was almost as difficult as an Omega’s heat to ride through. Only older and more seasoned Alphas were able to achieve it. Arthur shared a camp with Omegas, so you could see how he’d learn to contain himself.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling guilty as well. Your own temptations had tested his breaking point only to smash it to pieces. “Jesus, I had no idea. I’m sorry.” You murmured.

Arthur looked at you again, his expression hard to read. His lips twitched slightly before he spoke. “Ain’t your fault, Y/N. My own for lettin’ myself get to that point o’ no return.”

“It’s still on both of us regardless, no matter which way you spin it,” you pointed out. “What happened has happened, can’t fix that now. We just have to keep moving on.”

“I guess,” he sighed.

It once again fell silent between the two of you. Your gaze fell back to the now dying fire, the embers glowing faintly against the earth. The indigo and cobalt expanse of the sky was slowly engulfing you. Thoughts began to stir in more curiosity. It was the most you’ve talked about it, and somehow it felt more awkward than burying it with your memories. You supposed it was better to speak about it than not.

“We should turn in for the night,” he spoke again, moving to stand up. As you got to your feet as well, he kicked out the remainder of the fire and shrouding you both in near-total darkness.

As your eyes adjusted, you could see his gleaming in dim. He was staring at you again for a beat longer before turning to face his tent. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

For the briefest of a second you could feel the brush of his fingertips along the bare skin of your forearm as he passed by. A simple quick touch that sent sparks through you. It was so quick and sudden you assumed it might’ve been an accident.

Or was it?

A large yawn instead took your thoughts to your bedroll. Bidding him a goodnight just as he disappeared into his tent, you made your way toward your own.

---

The early morning sun peering through the slits of your tent aroused you from your restful, dream-filled sleep. You sat up slowly, rubbing the last dregs of fatigue from your eyes. As your body became more aware, the low crackling of a fire outside caught your attention. You crawled forward and opened your tent to see Arthur sitting in front of the fire. His attention was on the leather journal in his hands. He seemed to be writing something down, not having noticed you yet.

You’d seen that journal a few times before. You wondered often what he wrote in it. As you crawled out of the tent and into the dim morning light, only then did Arthur look up and close his journal.

“Mornin’,” he rasped, his voice just slightly sleep-touched while he reached for a coffee pot and cup off to the side. He poured some into the cup and held it out. “How’d you sleep?”

You thanked him with a smile and grasped the cup in your hands. The cool metal began to warm instantly and you took a sip. Bitter and hot, it was an unusually welcoming feeling in your dry mouth. “Pretty decent. How about you?”

He shrugged slightly in response before he placed the journal in his satchel. “Can’t complain. Anyway, we’ll be headin’ off once you’re done with that. Sound good?”

You nodded while taking another sip. Leaving soon meant you’d reach Saint Denis by either late morning or early afternoon, and left you a good amount of time to start asking around. Once you finished your coffee, Arthur helped you break down your tent before tending to his own. Once the site had been completely devoid of everything, you were on the road again.

With the air becoming more humid and hazy, it were as if each breath you took was like inhaling water. Through the thickness of the atmosphere, the buildings of Saint Denis unveiled ahead. You’d reached the cobblestone streets by high noon, the sun disappearing above the smog. Both a beautiful and intimidating city, you were both hopeful and determined your search would end here.

You and Arthur agreed to split up to cover more ground. He knew you were perfectly capable of handling yourself after learning your reputation. However it did not stop him from being apprehensive. Before you set off, he asked you to dismount your horse. You did so, about to question as to why when he dismounted his to stand in front of you, and he tugged the black bandana from around his neck to hold out to you.

You stared at it in confusion, before turning your eyes to him.

“Keep my scent on ya, just in case anyone gets any ideas.” He explained.

“I don’t need-” you began, yet the look on his face stopped you in your tracks. True concern. You knew what he was trying to do; an Alpha sometimes would scent mark their mates by having them wear an article of clothing, an added layer of protection to ward off any rival Alphas if they were ever separated. He wasn’t trying to claim you, though. He had a good reason to make sure you were guarded. You weren’t too familiar with Saint Denis, but you knew there was a considerable amount of Alphas here. Without another word, you took the bandana from his hands and wrapped it around your own neck. His scent wafting off the fabric filled your nose.

A small smile of relief crossed his face. “Thank you. Alright, let’s meet by the train station in four hours,” he said, mounting back on his horse. “Be careful.”

You nodded to him, climbing onto your mare. “You too, Arthur. See you in a few hours.”

And in those few hours you’d discovered absolutely nothing.

Your frustration only grew as you moved down the streets and through the alleyways, finding the more questionable of people to ask. To your dismay they wouldn’t know or they avoided the question entirely. Some answers had you tracing back to Valentine or Emerald Ranch. Your head was absolutely spinning with the lack of direction, but you didn’t want to give up just yet.

After a few hours of dead ends and misleadings, you’d found hopefully one more lead.

You had around fifteen minutes before meeting Arthur back at the train station, and the last place you decided to try was a saloon on the seedier part of the city. The building itself appeared run-down, and the faint smell of urine lingered on the walls. You crinkled your nose and pushed the door open, coming upon a scene that wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

Drunken fools slurring and giggling in their seats, tipping half-empty bottles of beer and whiskey to their loose lips. An abundance of Betas with a few Omegas mixed in. Surely someone here could be persuaded through their inebriation.

You approached another Omega who seated herself in the corner, her cheeks rosy and her eyes half lidded as her distant gaze met yours. She clutched an amber bottle in her hand. You offered her a polite smile and sat across from her.

“Hello,” you greeted.

“H-hey, sugar,” she slurred, the smell of whiskey strong on her breath. “W-wanna have a good time?”

“No,” you answered immediately. “Listen…I’m in search of something. Something that would help…people like you and me.”

The woman blinked at you with an absolutely dumbfounded expression. “I…I ain’t sure whatchoo talkin’ about! Whuh-what?”

You sighed and closed your eyes to keep your composure. This seemed like a good idea just a minute ago. “A certain…tonic,” you leaned in and dropped your voice. “Ya know…a blessing in disguise.”

She hiccupped heavily, frowning as her fogged gaze turned away from you. She doubled over and held her stomach, promptly stumbling off her stool and heading to the exit. As she disappeared through the door, you heard the unmistakable sounds of retching and you sighed. So much for that.

You turned to look around, hoping you’d catch someone else that could tell you. There weren’t too many other Omegas, and each and every one seemed to be as inebriated as the previous. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea as you thought. You instead decided to leave, the smell of fresh alcohol vomit filling your nostrils as you exited into the hazy afternoon air. The poor girl was off to the side, moaning in pain next to her puddle of shame. You just kept walking, looking around for your horse. The mare had wandered off and your lips formed to whistle for her when another smell overtook your senses.

Alpha. A scent unlike Arthur’s but heavier and…rancid. Your nose crinkled and you hastened your steps. As you passed by an alleyway, a silhouette appeared and made its way toward you.

“Heard you were lookin’ ‘round for some Lilith’s Blessing,” a voice rumbled from the silhouette, who moved to step in behind you.

You kept your cool despite a small bubble of anxiety rising in your stomach. You’d dealt with Alphas like him one too many times before. “Bet you’ve heard many things in this city,” you countered, keeping your sights forward.

“I just thought it was strange…for a claimed Omega to be askin’ for such a thing when her Alpha should be takin’ care of her,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken. He was still right behind you, too close for comfort.

You turned around to face him. Much taller than you as expected, wearing clothes that would easily cost you an entire month’s worth of bounties to achieve. He had a gleam in his eye that you did not trust. “What I do with my Alpha is none of your concern.” You hissed with a scowl. “Please leave me alone.”

“Ah, I don’t think so,” he growled, his arms quickly reaching out to you. You’d anticipated this and stepped back, bringing your own arm to swing a punch directly to his face. The distinctive and satisfying crunch of his nose breaking beneath your fist was enough to bring him to his knees. He yowled in pain, followed by expletives you cared to not repeat.

You turned on your heel and sprinted down the street. Your feet hit hard against the cobblestone as you sought to push as much distance between him and you as possible. You turned a corner and another, hoping that if he recovered, he would lose track of you that way. You weaved through random pedestrians, their sounds of shock and surprise falling on deaf ears. You only stopped when you’d ended up in an alley.

You were breathing hard, leaning against a wall in attempts to catch your breath. You had to find your way to the train station from here. Arthur surely would have reached there by now and was probably wondering where you were. Maybe he’ll come looking for you, though it was such a vast city you weren’t sure if that was possible. Hopefully you could ask someone for directions.

As your breath evened out and your heart stopped hammering, you straightened up again. Just before you began to move however, a tightening below your navel made its presence. A sensation you were all too familiar with. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Shit.

It was a little too early for this.

You had to find Arthur and high-tail it out.

You made your way back to the street and whistled loudly, hoping your horse was close enough to hear you. Others in the area turned their heads toward you, and you hoped it was because of your whistle and not the other reason.

You waited for a full minute, and nothing. Huffing in frustration, you headed to the first person you saw and asked for directions to the train station. Thankfully you learned it wasn’t too far away, and not in the direction of the Alpha who attempted to assault you. You hurried in the direction they told you, keeping your pace fast and your eyes forward.

The further you went, the more eyes were upon you. You hastened your steps again, knowing you had caught the attention of more than one Alpha in the area. The scent on Arthur’s bandana was beginning to fade.

The presence of others on your tail made you hyperaware. They were far back enough for you to slip out of sight, favoring to move in between buildings. You knew the general direction of the station and hoped you wouldn’t get turned around again. You were closer, possibly a few blocks away from what you were told. The steady breeze was moving with you.

As you approached the opening to another street, a large body stepped into your way. You skidded to a halt, eyes widening as the Alpha musk once again enveloped you.

“Omega…” he growled, his eyes flashing brightly. You ducked his opening arms, quickly skirting around him impressively in such a narrow space before darting forward.

Out into the open street, you managed to weave between horses and wagons. A train whistle sounded through the crowd, signaling that you were close. You put on a burst of speed, sprinting down the street with the train station clear ahead. You heard the Alpha behind you, his low snarl ripping through the crowd. You prayed Arthur was there waiting.

The Alpha grew closer, his larger body and longer strides were able to catch up to you in nearly no time at all. The busy street had only given you a slight headstart. You willed your legs to go faster, but the ache settling deep in your muscles told you that you weren’t able to.

He was just feet behind you.

Panic began to settle in.

You were ready to meet your inevitable fate when the sounds of hoofbeats appeared behind you, thunderous and quick, you heard the metal of the horseshoes skidding to a stop across the cobblestone.

“Back off,” a familiar – and welcoming – voice growled. You spun around to see Arthur on his horse, effectively blocking the Alpha from you. “She’s mine.”

The other Alpha snarled. You couldn’t see what happened next, only heard the connection of Arthur’s boot to his body. A grunt of pain was quick to follow, accompanied by the heavy thud of his body on the ground. It was only then did Arthur turn to look at you.

“Come on,” he huffed, gesturing to the back of his horse. You did not have to be told twice, jumping up onto the stallion was the quickest you’ve ever mounted a horse. As soon as your arms wrapped around his torso he took off.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you kept your eyes forward. The train station was dead ahead. “Arthur-” you breathlessly uttered. “We can’t go to Annesburg. My heat-”

“I know,” he interrupted lowly. “I smelled it this mornin’.” Instead of heading toward the train, he veered off to the right and followed the tracks opposite of the way the train was facing. Residential buildings gave way to factories and stockyards, meaning you were nearly out.

A familiar whinny caught your attention. You turned your head and saw your mare running toward the both of you, and you sighed in relief.

---

The two of you rode out of Saint Denis without any trouble, heading westward toward Rhodes. Arthur however kept on the paths away from any sort of civilization, that of which you were grateful for. The longer you rode, however, the worse the pressure in your belly became. His scent wafted around you, prodding you further towards the peak of your heat. It wouldn’t be much longer before you were coated in your own slick and unable to move in his presence.

You gave him a warning, hoping he too would be able to compose himself like he said he could. He stopped deep in the woods, close to a stream where you were able to temporarily quench the burning in your throat. Arthur was quick to set up your tent, though keeping himself at a safe distance to not inhale your ever-growing scent of temptation.

It was only twilight by then, though appearing darker underneath the canopy of the trees. Your skin was already damp from the humidity, yet the presence of your slick was beginning to soak through your bloomers. You took a deep breath and looked at Arthur, tugging away the bandana from your neck and holding it out to him. He took it, carefully not allowing his fingers to brush yours.

It’d been quiet between the two of you when you stopped. You finally broke the silence. “Arthur, you can leave me,” you said to him. “I know my scent can’t be too friendly on you.”

He looked at you with a slight frown and a furrowed brow. “I ain’t leavin’, Y/N. Gotta make sure you’re safe.”

His refusal surprised you and simultaneously fluttered your heartstrings. You weren’t sure how to feel about his response. “We’re not close to any towns or-”

“Don’t matter. You know exactly how far your scent can travel.” He said knowingly. “Can’t risk that, so you do what you gotta do. I’ll be out here.” He gestured to the forest that surrounded you.

You sighed heavily. There was no arguing with Arthur, that you learned after having caught wind of his conversations with others. It wasn’t a situation you were foreign to either. In your younger days you’d learned to pleasure yourself in the presence of others who were close by to keep a lookout. You would tune it out and become lost in your own thoughts.

Time to visit the past.

You nodded to him and turned toward your tent. As you entered it you listened to his footsteps grow distant. You took a deep breath and lay on your bedroll, allowing your mind to succumb to your heat.

You closed your eyes and unbuttoned your shirt. Your wandering hands rolled up your chemise to explore your bare skin. You were hot and damp to the touch, and your nipples were already puckered. It’d been so long since you’d done this to yourself that you almost missed it. Almost.

Your pants were next, the denim constricting you as your body demanded to be free. You unbuttoned them and slid a hand in, your fingers sliding along your folds still covered by your chemise. You kicked off your jeans and shrugged off your shirt, and your underclothing was soon to follow. Your fingers dragged their way to your slit, parting them and your other hand began to caress your bundle of nerves. The pleasure began to roll through you, growing slowly as your touch became more fervent.

An image appeared in the depths of your mind. Arthur pinning you against a tree, fucking you to his content. It disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived, yet it was enough to send a wave of fresh yearning through you. Biting on your lip, you tried to ignore it.

That however did nothing to staunch the way your body responded further to that memory. You mentally tried to push it away despite how wet you were growing for that sensation again. You shouldn’t fantasize about Arthur, you couldn’t.

Your mind kept screaming at yourself, but your body keened for his touch. The seconds ticked by and you were losing control of your own thoughts.

The dam broke open, flooding your mind with the memories of how Arthur took you that night. How perfect he felt inside you. The way his hands ravaged every inch of your sensitive skin and he rammed you. Your fingers slid into your entrance, desperately trying to reenact the sensation of his cock inside you. His growl, audible in your mind, was enough to send shivers cascading through your body.

You remembered how instantly protective he was over you earlier. The power in his voice, she’s mine. Even if it were just in the heat of the moment to ward off the other Alpha, those mere words sent you spiraling.

A small part of you wished you hadn’t resorted to him. He however was your first, and the only memory that you sustained in such a powerful event. You ached so painfully for it again. Your hands worked feverishly against your clit and teased your entrance. Every nerve of your body tingled as you barreled toward your release.

“Arthur…”

Your climax crashed over you fiercely, overtaking your muscles as you clenched around your fingers. You expelled a fresh rush of fluid into the palm of your hand. That was new.

You released shallow breaths as blood rushed through your ears. The fire of your release began to ebb away, settling back within your belly. You expected the dull ache that accompanied your usual ministrations. However, it were as if you hadn’t even done anything. The yearning returned with full force, gripping hold of your insides that you nearly gasped out from its intensity.

You moaned in frustration and gritted your teeth. God damn it. You knew what you were craving, who you were craving. You should have expected it wouldn’t be the same after your encounter with him. It were as if he changed your entire chemistry right down to the very core. You wouldn’t be satisfied unless he were to copulate with you. And you weren’t even mated to him.

But would he oblige?

You swallowed and sat up, the growing need for him beginning to cloud your mind. A small part of you contemplated on just riding the remainder of your heat out, regardless how long it took. There was no way Arthur would agree to do this again. You were ashamed of even considering it. You knew how he felt about it and you couldn’t blame him. Hell, you couldn’t blame either of you.

A swell of pressure grew within your core, forcing a sharp intake of breath from you. Perhaps you ought to try.

You stood up and peered through the flaps of your tent. It’d grown even darker, and you strained your eyes to see through the trees. A small breeze carried by, bringing Arthur’s scent to you and flooding your senses. Your legs trembled from how it enveloped you. He was still nearby.

You called his name into the quiet night and waited. A moment passed by when the faint sounds of moving underbrush appeared. His silhouette formed through the dark, becoming more prominent with each step. He was close enough to see his face, though still stood a good distance away.

“You finished?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No…” you mumbled. “I...I need help.”

You watched as his expression changed to confusion in the dim. “Help? With what?” he asked.

You swallowed hard. “I-I think you know…” you stammered, shyly glancing downward. You waited for him to reject you, waited for the anger of you even suggesting it.

Instead was even more bewilderment. “W-why?” he asked.

You sighed heavily. “Because I-” you paused for a moment to collect the right words. “I tried, it didn’t work. It’s the only way, Arthur. Please…I wouldn’t ask if there was another way aside from…riding it out.”

He’d fallen silent for a long moment, his gaze turning away from you, and you assumed that was his rejection. You withdrew back into your tent, unsure what you were going to do now. Embarrassment began to flood through you, and you cursed your heat for even allowing you to consider asking for his help. It was going to be a long week.

You heard the flaps open, and you turned your head to see Arthur at the entrance. It nearly surprised you, giving him a look of your own confusion. “Arthur?”

His eyes were on you, eyes bright against the darkness. His scent began to overwhelm you as he stepped in completely. You instinctually covered yourself, shyness overcoming you.

“Y/N…” he rumbled, kneeling down and reaching to gently cup your face. You hadn’t expected it, your body both flinching and responding to his touch. Rough fingers slid against the soft skin of your face, and you closed your eyes, allowing the sparks roll through your body.

You felt his lips brush against yours. His hands coaxed your stiff arms down and away from you. It surprised you that he was so intimate and gentle unlike before. He pulled you into his lap as if you were weightless, his clothes rough against your naked skin. The bulge beneath his pants were already prominent, sitting against your soaked mound.

The kiss became more fervent, his tongue prodding you open. You gladly accepted his invasion, letting him take the lead. One hand left your waist to trail up and down your back. A simple touch that had your heat keening for him. Your back arched and you pressed your breasts against his chest. A quiet groan rumbled deeply from him, and he parted his lips from yours.

The hand that trailed along your spine had come to rest on your lower back. “You sure ya want this?” he murmured to you.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes,” you answered coherently. “I want you, Arthur. I need you right now.” Your arms wrapped around his neck.

He inhaled deeply, allowing your scent to flood his senses. A growl emanated from his chest, sending a shiver took hold of you. “You smell so good…” he whispered. His hand moved to your navel, sinking down low to your folds. Another shudder rippled through you as his fingers grazed against your sensitive clit. You could hear how wet you were when he teased your entrance.

“T-take me, please. Arthur…I’m aching for you,” you moaned, canting your hips to his touch.

He hummed at your words, sliding his fingers into you with ease. His thumb circled your nub. A gasp passed your lips as he toyed you tantalizingly, almost lazily. He hadn’t done this before with you. Even with his fingers, it was what your body needed. He felt so good that you could get lost just from his hands alone. His other hand moved from your lower back to your chest, grazing his thumb across one of your nipples. He played you like an instrument, his fingers expertly teasing you at a slow pace in every right way. It didn’t take long until you were writhing in his lap. You begged for more, but he kept at it with his ministrations, his eyes on you the entire time.

Your second peak had washed over you smoothly, yet somehow was more satisfying and explosive than the first. You moaned his name, your fingers grappling onto him like claws as it gripped your body. The last of it trickled out of your body as you trembled in his lap. You’d certainly made a mess on his jeans. The ache in your belly had lessoned however still remained prominent, and you wanted him even further.

“Did that help?” he asked lowly.

“A little,” you sighed. “Not enough…I need to feel you.”

He didn’t answer, ducking his head as if in thought. You could sense his hesitation and could guess why: his thoughts were still lingering on his guilt. You placed your hand on his stubbled chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“It’s okay, Arthur. I’m asking you…please. I want your knot.” You whispered to him. Your free hand slinked down his torso to rest on his strained jeans. His entire body twitched beneath you.

His gaze was fixated on you. There was still an unsureness hidden within those depths, yet the gleam reflected much more. His rut was the forefront, the need to connect with you held back by uncertainty. He released a rattling sigh, finally muttering, “I want you too.”

You smiled and your hand left his chin to work on the buttons of his shirt. It was already partly opened and you moved to work on the rest. It would be the first time seeing him nude and a fresh wave of need washed upon you thinking about it. The fabric fell open and you placed your hands on his exposed torso. He felt solid underneath his hot, hairy skin. His even breathing slightly disrupted from your touch. Fingertips trailing along his midline, you explored the planes and angles of his muscles. He was built just right. The very epitome of an Alpha.

You dare to explore further, dipping down to the waistband of his pants. As the buttons released the tension it unveiled what lay hidden underneath. You reached in through the opened folds to fish out his length. It was as thick as you remembered, your hand not fully wrapping around its circumference. The knot at the base was slightly swollen.

His breath hitched as you slid your hand along his hot and silky skin. Even though he’d taken your innocence last time, you were not ignorant on how to pleasure a man. His soft moans were a sweet melody to your ears, calling to you and reaching even further to your heat. You drew in a ragged breath as another swell of yearning overtook you.

Arthur sensed it, and his hand covered your own. He pulled your hand off him gently. “Think I need to focus on you now, sweetheart.” He muttered, planting a soft kiss upon your knuckles.

Sweetheart. You hadn’t expected that. A blush painted your face and you smiled shyly, tucking your face against your shoulder. He moved you off his lap and placed you back on your bedroll.

“On your knees.” He said gently. You listened and turned around, raising your ass up in presentation to him. His large hands took place on your waist and you waited for him to pound in. He instead slid his cock between your folds, groaning lightly as he coated himself with your fluids. He teased your clit for a short moment before he found your opening and slid in with ease, taking his time to fill you inch by inch. He stretched your walls oh so deliciously until he was completely sheathed.

You felt whole again, the two of you fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces. Your body naturally pushed back, your butt flush with his hips. He uttered a small swear while his grip tightened on you.

He began to thrust. A slow and rolling movement that sent waves traveling through every fiber of your being. “Arthur…” you moaned. “You feel so good.”

His pace quickened a touch as he moaned out your name. He was careful with you this time, each touch and thrust as gentle as handling fine china. He caressed every curve you had to offer, tingles erupting everywhere his calloused pads roamed. He left no inch of your flesh untouched, exploring everywhere he could reach. He leaned over you, clouding your mind with his musk as his strong arms wrapped around you. Your breasts were at his leisure, toying with them as he had before. The way he pinched your nipples sent shivers down your spine.

“You feel amazin’,” He groaned, pressing himself deep as he inhaled sharply. “So soft…” he straightened back up and ran a hand down your back, his nails spurring you enough to enhance your ever-growing pleasure. He reached around to rub against your clit.

The additional sensation had you trembling in his grasp. Your head tilted up to whine out loud, uncaring of the volume at the moment.

“That’s it darlin’,” he rumbled to you. “Give me your pleasure.”

Darlin’. His voice. It was enough alone to send you nearly over the edge. It brought your third peak sooner than expected, coiling right deep within your core. It sprang free and spread like wildfire through your veins. You sang your pleasure out to him, your muscles clenching around him so tightly that he grunted.

He swore out loud, driving into you rather hard. You gasped and tried to wiggle away from the overstimulation. He held you against him yet returned to his normal pace. “Shit,” he groaned. “You sound beautiful.”

Your face heated with another blush. You turned your head to look at him. His eyes locked to yours, his clouded with lust. He offered you a small smile and briefly caressed your neck. Such intimacy continuously caught you off guard yet was pleasant all the same. “C-can you go harder, please?” you sighed.

He moaned at your words and heeded your request, thrusting harder and deeper into you. The waves of absolute ecstasy that followed were almost dizzying. You gripped the bedroll and released a wanton moan. His knot was starting to swell more, indicating he was close to his own release. His thrusts became more fervent as he chased his pleasure. Leaning over once again he wrapped his arms around you to bring you upright, pressing your back to his chest. You could only gasp in surprise from this action words lost to you with your mind too fogged. His scruffy chin rested on your shoulder as he murmured sweet praises in your ear. He was relentless, his fingers hadn’t left your clit while his other hand fondled your breasts. Your body threatened to melt in his grip with yet another orgasm on the climb.

It washed onto you like a tsunami. Your entire body vibrated in his arms as you cried your release out to the heavens, his name mixed in a tangle of swears and squeals. With the flames ebbing away, his arms held you tight while he drove himself even further into you.

“Shit, I’m close,” he growled lowly. His knot teased the sensitive nerves of your inner walls. You could only breathlessly whine while he used your body to his bidding. With a few strong thrusts, he unleashed a guttural groan and pressed himself into you as much as he could, spilling his hot spend inside you.

His knot had swelled completely, once again locking you to him. The little space of your tent had become filled with the heated panting of your breaths. The aching swell once residing deep in your belly had finally dissipated, leaving behind a blanket of fatigued bliss.

Arthur’s arms loosened a fraction from around you. You hadn’t expected the next maneuver when he shifted you as if you were weightless. He’d managed to carefully lay the both of you atop your bedroll, his weight was on top of you for only a brief second before he rolled onto his side and pulling you along with him. He was now spooning you, and only then did his arms leave your torso.

The air was hot, the heat radiating from his skin even hotter. That didn’t matter to you in the slightest. Riddled head to toe with satisfaction of finally having what you needed with the person you needed it from. Just an hour ago it seemed even impossible to reach this point.

You felt him shift behind you again. His presence loomed over you and his hand reached to cup your jaw. You turned to his touch without resistance, peering up into those bright eyes of his. He had a soft smile that shone through the dim, and he brought his lips to meet yours.

The kiss was as tender as the first. It still amazed you how this beast of a man could be so soft and gentle with you. He held you to him and you marveled how plump his lips felt against yours. Another long moment passed before he released your face, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

Such a simple notion had you lightheaded. You gave a small huff, your senses still filled to the brim of his scent. He chuckled lightly, sending vibrations against your back.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while,” he rumbled.

You blinked and shifted slightly to view him better. “What, fuck me?”

“Not exactly,” he murmured. “Kiss you.”

His answer had you taken aback. “W-what? Really?”

His hand moved again, beginning to trace lazy patterns up and down your waistline. “Yeah… was afraid to say somethin’ to ya after what happened. Weren’t sure if you even liked me. Thought I’d try.”

You released a shuddering sigh at his words. Never did you once imagine it would have come to this point. You denied your slowly growing infatuation for him as one-sided and heat-driven, assuming he’d never even want to touch you again. And you were glad you were wrong.

“’Less you just needed me for my knot…” he mumbled, turning his head away and taking your silence for rejection.

“No!” you exclaimed. He flinched from your interjection. You cautiously moved yourself to cup his cheek. “Arthur…” you said, lowering your tone. “Listen, I… I like you. I do. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked you to help me with my heat…” you sighed again. “Regardless of what happened between us. I like you.”

You watched the disbelief melt away from his face to slowly form a content smile. His hand covered yours, passing his lips across the skin of your palm. You closed your eyes, allowing the sensation to envelope you. He kissed a steady, feather-light path up your arm and along your shoulder. He finished by placing his mouth against your pulse point. His teeth grazed your flesh, catching your attention. Your breath hitched and you opened your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I won’t mark ya,” he assured, whispering into your skin. “Too early for anything yet…”

You nodded silently. Still much too soon to even consider such a large step, if it were even a possibility in the future.

“But I wanna get to know ya more…” he continued. His touch moved to your stomach, rubbing it in slow, soothing circles. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” you granted, sparks igniting deep from how he caressed you. “Just wish you’d done it sooner.”

He exhaled a puff of breath with a small chuckle. “I ain’t the most confident of folk, believe it or not.”

You hummed in response. “Guess I ain’t surprised since you went almost a month without saying much to me.”

“’Spose I gotta make up for that then,” he replied, placing a sweet kiss on the back of your neck. The hand on your stomach pressed your torso closer to his in a tight embrace. You fell to it easily, finding comfort and security in his capable hands.

The post copulation ache that took hold of your muscles soon began to engulf you whole. Sleep weighed heavy in your mind and tugged at your eyelids. The last thing you heard was Arthur’s voice soothing you to a restful sleep.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #ABO dynamics #a/b/o dynamics

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darkorderaf · 4 years

Text

shake off your flesh pt. I

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve done any fic writing but AEW has me feeling a way. This is the first part of a two-parter I’m doing. Part 2 will be up soon!

Pairing: Evil Uno x OFC (could probably be read as reader insert!!)

Rating: T...for now. :)

Warnings: None yet. :)

Word Count: 4,019

(I don’t own the gif, credit to kennyhoemega!)

It had been an accident. A product of pure frustration and lack of sleep. Between the heat and mishaps, injuries had become more prevalent over the weeks spent at Daily’s Place. She wasn’t even the head doctor, let alone a doctor in the first place, but she was an experienced EMT and that was enough for them. She had finally gotten a chance to sit down after a long day when it had happened.

Or, rather, they happened. Alex Reynolds and John Silver.

“Hey, doc.”

Any other day and she wouldn’t have minded their antics. Hell, she might have even welcomed them. This time however, she rubbed at the bridge of her nose and didn’t turn around. Her feet were sore, her arms were sore. Places she didn’t know she could be sore were just that. It didn’t feel right to complain. She didn’t get in the ring day after day. A drink sounded nice. Maybe if she closed her eyes and counted back from ten, they would go away. She opted to give it a shot.

“Hey, doooooc.”

“You know I’m not a doctor,” she said with a slight frown. “But yes, John? How can I help you?”

She could hear the two men snicker to themselves before they got it together, quietly slapping at one another. Alex spoke up.

“We need a…a signature! From everyone on the medical staff,” he said enthusiastically. “And that’s you. You’re on the medical staff and we just need you to sign it. Soooo, can you sign this?”

She dropped her head into her hands and hunched over in her seat. That was all? She fumbled for the pen in the front pocket of her lilac cardigan and swore as she dropped it. A soul deep sigh left her as she went to bend down and grab it, only for John Silver to meet her halfway. He took her hand in between his and gave her the pen. There was a wide smile on his face and even as agitated as she was, she couldn’t help but return it with a small one of her own.

The Dark Order were...strange at times, she thought, but they had never been malicious to her. In fact, they had been nothing but appreciative to her every time she checked them over. Even Anna Jay and the typically silent Ten. But what surprised her the most out of all of them had been Evil Uno. He took the time to talk with her, ask about her day, or what she thought of things. He had such a presence, a gravitas to him, that her eyes went to him as soon as he entered a room. Even as he did simple things such as wrap his wrists or straighten the paperwork in her office, even after she told him there was no need. The last time she had seen him, they had talked so long that it wasn’t until the Young Bucks collectively cleared their throats that she realized a couple of hours had passed. Uno had held her eyes as he left, much to the confusion of a freshly bruised Matt and Nick Jackson. The look in them had stayed with her well into the night and the cold shower she took in the morning.

It was foolish to think there was anything else to it. It was best to keep things professional as always. She was good at that. He was simply being polite, she told herself. Polite as a cult member could be. No, it wasn't fair to think of them in simple terms like that. Even with a mask and the painted darkness that surrounded them, she could tell he had kind eyes. They were such a stark contrast to what she had seen him do in the ring that it momentarily stunned her the first time she had seen him, chest and hands bloodied as she tended to him.

Alex Reynolds slapping a piece of paper and a container of Kool-Aid powder on her desk snapped her out of her thoughts. She clicked her pen with a sigh. Right. She was supposed to be doing something.

“Fine,” she said as she bent over and found the line that had a purple X next to it. The other signatures seemed strange, she could have sworn one line said Ronald McDonald and another Count Chocula, but she didn’t scrutinize it further. After she signed it, she slid it back over to them with a raised brow. Alex and John stared at each other in disbelief before bursting into loud cheers, high-fiving and chest-bumping one another. A hand went to one cocked hip before she spoke up again. “Is that all? Are you two even actually hurt or are you just jerking me around? It’s been a really long day, okay? Jesus, it’s almost midnight.”

She eyed the watch face on her wrist.

“Oh shit, Mr. Lee is gonna be so happy with us!” John said as he slapped Alex’s chest. “We fucking did it! We finally fucking got someone and it’s you! Oh, this is a good day! I knew my cereal being all oh’s meant something! I told you!”

Alex paused in disbelief.

“Seriously? Those were Cheeri--Oh fuck it, we got someone! Mr. Brodie is going to be fucking thrilled!”

Her brow furrowed as she rubbed at her eyes. She pulled the paper back over and looked at the paragraph. The paragraph that read ‘I will happily join a really cool group of people known as The Dark Order, no take backs’ over and over again. She looked at them. Blinked slowly.

“Does...does this mean that Count Chocula is a member of the Dark Order too? Wow, what a prospect.”

----

The hallways seemed eerily empty as they walked through Daily’s Place. She expected to run into Cutler or Britt, Swole even, but there was no one in sight. She could hear loud voices at the end of the hallway and as the trio came closer to the door, they boomed in her ears. The light at the end seemed to flicker each time Brodie Lee spoke. Reynolds and Silver went in first after they told her to wait outside. They wanted to do a grand reveal and she just wanted to go to sleep. Slowly, she slid down the wall and sat cross legged.

“Mr. Lee! Mr. Lee! We got someone! We really did this time!”

“Is it the Young Bucks?”

“Um, no sir, it’s not.”

“Oh, fuckin’ really? Is it Jungle Boy Jack Perry?”

“N-No, it’s not him either.”

“Not even the fuckin’ dinosaur? Hangman? We almost fuckin’ had him. The fuck happened there?”

They must have shaken their heads silently because the next shouted words snapped her out of her half sleep. She wrapped her arms loosely around herself and leaned back against the wall. Her eyes threatened to slip shut.

“Then why the FUCK should I care?”

“We got a doctor!”

She shook her head. That woke her up.

“Damn it, I’m not a doctor…”

Her eyes shifted from the door to the far end of the hallway. The light over her head stayed steady but the one at the other end flickered. The one above Uno who stood and stared at her in equal measure. The lights sputtered overhead as Uno approached her swiftly. He knelt down in front of her and offered her his hand. His eyes searched her face. The conversation continued behind the door but she wasn’t listening.

“What are you doing here?” He asked softly, a strain to his voice. The dark around his eyes was smudged and his chest heaved. “Did something happen?”

She huffed out a tired laugh and shook her head. He helped her up from her seat and tilted his head as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, something sure did happen,” she started. “John Silver and Alex Reynolds stopped by my office. I guess they’re more convin--”

The door opened. John Silver went to take her hand to pull her up and into the room but Uno cut him off. Came to stand between the two with his head tilted down. Her smaller hand was still engulfed in his large warm one.

“The fuck are you doing, Silver?”

Uno was taller than the both of them and in his ring gear, he was an intimidating figure. And yet, she wasn't scared of him. She peered around him and dropped her hand from his. The shorter man caught the motion and tried to cover his surprise. It was a shitty attempt, really, but he recovered quickly. He gestured for her to go inside frantically.

“Come on, come on! He wants to meet you!”

She moved around Uno and met his eyes with a shrug. His brow furrowed and he followed behind her. Mr. Brodie Lee waited through the door’s threshold. Along with the rest of the Dark Order. Anna Jay shifted from her perch and crossed one leg over the other. The medic rubbed at her arms as she stood across from the significantly taller man whose dark eyes fixed her where she stood. Uno’s fingertips brushed along her arm as he moved past her to stand slightly behind and to the right of Mr. Lee. If she didn’t know any better, she thought Uno seemed wary. For good reason. Brodie Lee had a fearsome reputation. One she couldn't give two fucks about with the amount of sleep she was running on.

“Holy fucking shit,” Mr. Lee said as he shook his head. He swung around to look at Reynolds and Silver who collectively blanched. “How...in the sweet fuck...did you manage to pull this off? You got her? Isn’t she the one Uno won’t shut the fuck up about? Fuck. I think Ten even said something.”

It was hard to tell Uno’s expression behind the mask but by the way he stiffened, the way red seemed to creep up his exposed neck, she knew there was some truth to what Brodie Lee said.

“Yes, sir. That’s her.”

Her breath caught and she awkwardly shifted on her feet. Brodie’s attention went back to her and he took one long stride to stand in front of her. Tired eyes lifted to look up at him and before she could stop it, a yawn began to slip out. She slid a hand over her mouth to cover it. Brodie blinked at her and started to smile at her. There was a distinct feeling that she should have been unnerved and perhaps a part of her was. The rest of her was just tired and she glanced over to the plush seating with longing.

“You’re one of us now,” Brodie said as he placed a large hand on her small shoulder. It brought her attention back to him. With his other hand, he jabbed a thumb over at Silver and Reynolds. “Those two fucking idiots got you to sign off on it. And I gotta say, I’m pretty pleased. Hell of a lot more pleased than I thought I would be. There’s an equivalent exchange here, you know. We take care of you and you take care of us. That’s how it works around here. I mean, fuck, you’re already wearing our colors. And you make ‘em look damn good. Doesn’t she?”

Her cheeks warmed as the group gave varying responses of approval.

“They kind of just slid it across the table and I didn’t read it very well. I haven’t slept much over the last day or so and I’m so, so tired,” she admitted with a slight frown. She had seen people balk in the presence of The Exalted One. Exhaustion loosened her tongue. She blinked slowly and covered another yawn. The disappointment that rang through the room was profound. Even Anna’s normally stony expression wavered. Ten’s folded arms loosened some. Uno’s fingers tapped against his thigh nervously. She offered the room a weak smile. “But I, uh, do know that I’d rather be here than with the Inner Circle. So that’s something. I’m supposed to be neutral in all..." She paused as she made a wide gesture. "This.”

She waited a beat. Then slowly raised her hand in the signature Dark Order claw. Or at least she thought it was a claw. They had never been clear about that. Her brows knit together the longer she considered it.

Brodie squeezed her shoulder and then released her with a smirk. As he started talking again, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her over to the rest of them. Uno’s eyes shifted from her to Brodie and she could have sworn they seemed darker. Brodie let go of her and went to the two recruitment specialists.

“Good work you two. Good damn work,” Brodie said as he stood before Reynolds and Silver, the former trying his best to not make eye contact. “No papers for you tonight. Get the fuck out of here. It’s late and our newest member here is tired.”

As each member went out, she offered a smile and a small greeting. She wasn’t sure where exactly her new membership in the Dark Order would take her but everyone seemed happy with their newest addition. Anna stood in front of her and looked at her for a long time before she finally smiled. A true one. She had hardly registered that the young woman had squeezed her hand until she was gone. Uno had hung back from the rest of the group, idly moving glasses around on the bar top as he watched everyone go. Stu eyed him for a minute before he took his leave.

Finally, they were alone. The lights in the room seemed to dim as he approached her. Her stomach tightened. The question on her mind poured out fast.

“You really talk about me?”

“I do,” he admitted as he came to stand in front of her. A finger lifted her chin slightly so that her eyes would meet his. “Why wouldn’t I? Most people here don’t give us the time of day. But then there you are. Unbothered. Giving me the time of day. Your day, really. Even some of your nights if we lose track of time.”

Uno's voice caressed her like something warm and alive, dark even, and it stirred a heat low in her belly. Or maybe she was just that tired. She thought back to that time in her office. Before the Young Bucks had interrupted. The lights were nearly out and darkness crept in at the edges. His voice was heavy, breathy, when it broke through the quiet.

“I wanted it to be me.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at him blearily and as a chill crawled up her arms, she leaned forward. Leaned into him. Where the room was cold, he was warm. His hands came down to loosely grip her forearms gently. His rough hands slid across the fabric of her cardigan and for a moment, she wished it was her skin he was touching. She shivered as one hand played with a strand of her hair. She looked at him through slow blinks until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. It was hard to make out his answer as he lifted her up bridal style and pulled her into him. His voice was in her ear, clearer this time.

“You’re so tired. This place doesn’t let you rest, does it? Cody and the rest of them.” He murmured. They were walking somewhere but she couldn’t tell. Not with the way her arms were wrapped around his neck and her face burrowed into the heat of the vest he wore. She was stuck between wakefulness and rest. Her body was tired but with the way her body pressed against his, sleep was impossible. Wherever they were, it was dark. “You can rest around me. No one will bother you, you know? Not while I’m around.”

He set her down and she realized she was back in her office. He hadn’t even turned the light on but he had found it with no trouble. The cot wasn’t ideal but there was no way they could make it to her hotel room. Not at this hour and not without getting stopped. The cot wasn’t the most comfortable but as he put a sheet around her, it was close enough to heaven. She felt him start to go. Her hand searched for his and when she found it, she gave his large fingers a squeeze.

“You staying?”

His laugh filled the room and then his voice was in her ear, dark and alive and warm. He soothed her without even touching her.

“With you?” He said with a teasing tongue. His hand squeezed hers and then let her go. She heard him settle into the couch but when he talked, he still sounded near. A light laugh followed. “Of course.”

----

She woke up well into the next day and true to Uno’s word, she had gone completely unbothered. He was gone when she woke up and she found that she hated the empty spot where he had been. She didn’t see him again until his tag team match that following week. The only member she had seen had been Anna with a sore wrist. The younger woman thanked her and assured her that she was still with them. They were just biding their time. For what, the medic didn’t have a clue. Colt Cabana was just as in the dark as she was. She just had to trust and the idea of that was enough to make her mouth dry. If she saw him at all, it was only in passing. And she found it wasn’t enough.

There was no exhaustion to blame when her mind went to him quickly and without effort. She swore at herself under her breath as she tied her cardigan loosely around her hips.

She stood by where she usually did, slightly distanced from an always enthusiastic Billy and Austin Gunn. Uno and Stu were always aggressive in their matches. It was why she always looked forward to them in particular. Yet even still, there was a newfound intensity. Even as Uno strutted around the ring and taunted Jungle Boy, he moved and shouted like a man possessed.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was about to happen as the pair nailed the Fatality. Instead of leaving the ring, they lingered over a beaten Marko Stunt and Jungle Boy. As the Dark Order theme played, the rest emerged. Save for Brodie Lee himself. A mic was passed over to Uno. The theme was cut off.

“You hear that? That’s the sound of pain. Inescapable, destructive pain,” he said as he leered down at the two men. “But I have something to tell you two. Something to tell all of you. You don’t have to be like this. You can join us. Be more than what you are. And I promise you that through this pain, you can find deliverance. You can find order.”

He continued as he circled their limp bodies.

“Make your choice. Join us and kill your pain. We have just the brompton cocktail to ease your suffering.”

His gaze shot over to her and she froze. His chest heaved.

Uno went through the ropes closest to where she stood and reached out to her, fingers slightly curled. Murmurs erupted throughout the crowd. She was a nobody. Just a face on the side of the ring that came in whenever necessary. Nothing more, nothing less. She thought she had been satisfied with that. For a time, she supposed she had been. But as Uno looked at her, she knew that she was anything but.

She was ravenous and hadn’t known it.

The murmuring ringside stared at her as she crossed over the barrier. Her heart pounded in her chest and her skin felt electric. Her fingertips sparked against his and when she wrapped his hand with hers first, the crowd was stunned to silence. Those at the commentary table struggled to make sense of what they were witnessing. Uno led her up the stairs and parted the ropes for her to join the rest of the Dark Order. His dark gaze returned to Jungle Boy and Marko.

“Or you can choke on it.”

Jungle Boy blinked rapidly as if he too was trying to make sense of it. She had tended to him once before and they had been kind to one another. He had made her laugh before. But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes clung to Uno as he gestured to Ten. He handed Uno something and it wasn’t until he was close behind her, the heat of him a contrast to the kiss of cold metal, that she understood what it was.

The Dark Order’s emblem dangled from her neck. In the Florida heat, it stuck to her damp skin. His fingertips kissed the back of her neck and then in an instant, he was by her side. The other members flanked her and as their music played, they raised their hands in tandem. She joined them.

“Who are we?”

Uno looked at her as his lips parted.

“We are one!”

----

She couldn’t stop fiddling with the necklace as the evening minutes ticked by. It was strange to be seen. Not just by Uno. That had never been strange. But by everyone else. She had always been a pit stop for wrestlers on their way to and from the ring. Now though, they looked at her. Really looked at her. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since they had left the stage in an electric shuffle of excitement.

Oddly, Uno had been silent after. Had left without so much as a word to her. As if the barest touch of his fingers against her neck hadn’t kindled the heat that licked up her spine. Her eyes followed his back until he was gone and after, she thought of him as she went to her office. Wrestlers and company members alike murmured as she practically floated past. She flipped the lightswitch on and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of Mr. Lee in her chair. A hand flew to her chest.

“Jesus Christ, Mr. Brodie.”

For an absolute giant of a man, he didn’t move like one. She hadn’t even heard him get up.

“Not quite,” he said with a smile. “Not quite at all. The order looked good out there tonight, didn’t we?”

The pad of her thumb skimmed along the metal of her new necklace. His eyes briefly flickered down to look at it before he raised a brow at her.

“He wants you, you know,” he said with all the finesse of a blunt weapon. She should have expected as much. “It’s not unheard of. Uno wanting. He’s not obvious as fuck about it but he's ambitious. Always has been. But it’s different with you.”

Immediately, she bristled. She respected Mr. Brodie but she didn’t respect the way he spoke to her. Let alone what he alluded to. Even as he said it, she doubted. The corner of his mouth twitched as though he sensed it.

“That’s not any of your business, Mr. Brodie,” she said carefully. Her adrenaline thrummed under her skin, in her temples. “I expect you to respect that. Respect me. And him.”

She wasn’t blind to the way that Mr. Brodie went after his own organization’s members when his mood turned. Papercuts were more troublesome than people thought and she had seen Alex Reynolds sheepish more than once. Mr. Brodie shifted where he stood. Untouched by her words. Why wouldn’t he be anything but?

“It is,” he said. “I look out for my people. You want him too, don’t you?" He waved his hand just as she was about to speak. Her tongue felt heavy as lead. "You don’t have to say it. I already know. I’m good at knowing these things.”

Her face flushed red in spite of herself. He stood up from his seat and adjusted his tie before he went to the door. She stepped out of the way and glanced up at him. Her heart skipped. It had been an accident, her agreement to join the Dark Order. But for a moment, she feared being apart from it. Mr. Brodie pulled at his beard as he looked down at her.

“Ease up,” he said with a shake of his head. He took her hand and slipped a folded piece of paper into her palm. His laugh shook her out of her frigid stance. “You’ve only been with us a fucking week and I’m already tired of him making eyes at you. Fuck knows how long its gone on before that but a man can imagine. Go to him.”

The door opened and closed in the span of a single breath. She fell back against the door. The night had been an absolute goddamned whirlwind and it didn’t seem ready at all to let up. Her breath hardly had time to catch up with the thunder of her heart.

She unfolded the paper.

A room number.

One not that far from her own.

#evil uno imagine #aew imagine #aew fic #evil uno #aew fanfiction

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astralaffairs · 5 years

Text

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.

312 notes · View notes

bubbyleh · 4 years

Text

Equal Standing - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Year 98

Gordon and Coomer are by the Viewing Pool, in the middle of one of their weekly coffee meetings when Tommy returns from Earth. He’s waving a newspaper in one of his hands, as if he were a paperboy, with an excited grin across his face.

“Mr. Freeman! Mr. Coomer! You- you guys won’t believe this!” He throws the newspaper down on the picnic blanket between the two of them. Coomer places his coffee down and picks it up. “I remember these guys praying to me and I- and I thought they would need a lot of help! But they did it! They found it!”

“Found what?” Gordon asks.

Coomer clears his throat, and begins to read. “A team of anteologists from across the world, known for their breakthroughs in the study of precursor civilizations, have made headway in their field by being the first to uncover ruins of the city known as Mesa- Ah!” He cuts himself off, eyes lighting up. “Mesa! That’s where Bubby and I are from! What a lovely town that was...”

“Oh! It’s your home?” Tommy takes a seat next to Coomer. “Maybe if- if it opens to the public, we can visit sometime!”

Gordon takes the paper from Coomer and begins reading on his own. To be honest, he wasn’t familiar with quite a few of the words he heard.

“Well, Bubby and I haven’t lived there since we were in our thirties…” Coomer thinks for a moment. “But it is where we met, so perhaps a trip down would be worth it!”

Gordon squints at the article. “Uh, guys? What’s a precursor civilization?”

Tommy stares blankly at him, while Coomer shakes his head. “Goodness, are they teaching children anything at all down there?”

“Wh- hey! I am not representative of all mortal education!” Gordon counters. “Look, I know schools in frontier towns weren’t that great, but they taught me what I needed!”

Tommy interjects, “Not- not history.”

“Maybe they would have! I don’t know,” Gordon sighs, his head falling to rest on his upright knee. “I had to drop out when I was eleven because of family. The town doctor slipped me books when he could, but… I kinda wish I stayed.”

Coomer places a finger on his chin. “Perhaps we could put on a school for you, Gordon. We could catch you up on everything we think you should have learned about!” He laughs to himself. “We haven’t had a school since Tommy was a child.”

Tommy flaps his hands a little bit. “Oh! Yes! That’d be really- really fun!” Wow, Tommy, a God whose domain partially involves knowledge, wanting to teach people? Who would have thought?

But, thinking about it, a few lessons wouldn’t be a bad idea. Gordon would be lying if he said he hasn’t bullshitted his way through a few conversations in the past, and some part of him does ache to return to a learning environment.

“What do you say, Gordon?” Coomer jolts him from his thoughts.

“Yes.” He doesn’t need to think twice about it. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

◇☆◇

They don’t arrange an actual classroom, which is fine. In fact, Gordon’s grateful for it, going all out with desks and a chalkboard would have been extremely patronizing. Instead, they sit around one of the few nice common areas, like the garden. Gordon will listen to Coomer or Tommy ramble, taking notes if he needs to, Bubby’s mostly there to loudly proclaim when someone is wrong, and Benrey…

“I have a question,” Gordon asks on their first day.

“Go ahead, Gordon!” Coomer encourages him.

Gordon points at Benrey. “What’s he doing here?”

For a moment, Coomer seems to struggle to find an answer. “I did warn him that he might not like today’s subject matter,” he admits. “But Benrey has every right to be present for this history lesson, even if he did live through it.”

“Hell yeah,” Benrey cheers. “Gonna make, uh, macaroni art! Preschool stuff!”

“Today, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy redirects the conversation. “Since you asked, we’re- we’re going to talk about precursor civilizations. Mr. Coomer’s going to tell you about what they were like, and I’m- I’m going to tell you a history of recent discoveries!”

Coomer’s lecture is pretty interesting, considering it’s based more on his memory than any actual research. He stumbles a few times, which Bubby is quick to pick up on, but for the most part, life back then seemed… normal?

Gordon notices that sometimes, whenever Coomer mentions an invention of some kind, Tommy will remark that it’s still used on Earth. Which doesn’t make sense, because Gordon doesn’t remember ever listening to a CD player, or even hearing about one before?

“I don’t get it,” Gordon interrupts Coomer and Bubby’s tangent about how much a different city’s soccer team sucked. “If these civilizations were so advanced that we’re only now recreating what they had, then… what happened?”

Coomer and Bubby go silent, contrasting the fact that Tommy is looking at them with a hope that can only be described as worn down. And Gordon realizes this is almost like a routine.

Benrey doesn’t answer either. He silently draws his knees to his chest, attempting to hide his face behind them. But Gordon can still see his eyes, distant and glassy.

Gordon will never admit it, but he feels a twinge of pity for Benrey. Makes him want to reach out and comfort him, and he has to remind himself that Benrey doesn’t deserve it.

Coomer breaks the tension. “Tommy, why don’t you tell us about the researchers? I’m curious.”

Tommy sighs, and even his dejection looks old. Truthfully, Gordon doesn’t hear much of what he says, because whatever the hell just happened weighs heavily on his mind. Just the way that Coomer ignored his question, Benrey’s obvious fear…

“But- But this is interesting, Gordon!” Tommy saying his name brings him back to the present. “This guy has the same last name as you.”

“Really?” Freeman wasn’t that common of a name, he thought. He could only think of a few other people who had it, and all of them were his family.

Tommy nods, enthusiastic. “I was looking at the- at the dates, and anteology didn’t really take off until a few years after you. Uh. Came here.” Well, nice of him to avoid saying he died. “So it makes sense you didn’t know about it. But it’s all thanks to this guy, John Freeman!”

Gordon feels his polite smile drop in an instant.

“Did you… did you just say John?”

“Yeah! He’s- uh,” Tommy puts the puzzle pieces together in real time. “He… oh shit. You- you had family, didn’t you?”

Fuck, how old was John when Gordon left home? Ten? Could it really be him?

"Do you have a picture?" Gordon asks, and he knows if it is it's going to hurt him so bad. But he has to know if it's John, see if he grew up.

Tommy turns to the stack of textbooks he brought with him. "Oh, I think- in here," he mumbles as he flips through the pages of one. "Right! Here!" He slides the book over to Gordon.

The picture is tucked neatly into the corner, and there's no doubt anymore. That's Gordon's brother, he'd recognize that mess of dark hair anywhere. Their chins, their mother had always said they had the same chin.

Alongside the picture is a brief description of the life of John Freeman. Most of it is about his academic career, but there are few sentences dedicated to his early life.

When Freeman was six, his mother passed away from pneumonia. His sister, only eleven, dropped out of school to support John as he continued his education.

"Is that- is that him, Mr. Freeman?" Tommy speaks up.

Fuck, Gordon’s eyes are getting watery. "Yeah, that's… my little brother. That's John." He pushes some hair out of his face, fully crying now. "They um, they got some things wrong."

It's been over one hundred years since Gordon last saw his brother. There's no way he's still alive. Gordon died, and John lived. And now John is dead and Gordon is…

Here.

Gordon feels a pair of arms wrap around, then another, and finally a third pair. Tommy, Coomer, and even Bubby are there, and they have them, and they're his family.

And on the fringes, Gordon spots Benrey, who freezes when he's spotted. The expression on his face is unreadable.

But Gordon thinks he looks afraid.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #my writing #gordos freeman #hlvrai gods au #equal standing

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verai-marcel · 4 years

Text

The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 3 of 6, 18+)

Tags, Warnings, & Notes in Chapter 1. | Chapter 2

AO3 Link is here.

Chapter 3 - Gravity

Word Count: 2130

You were absolutely humming and dancing around your shop the next day. The date had gone brilliantly; the two of you talked about the town and how much it had changed in so little time; he hadn’t been back for a year, and you hadn’t been back for two years, only having returned a week ago. He talked about living in the big city, but was vague about where he lived. You were surprised that he’d drive all the way over here to see you.

“40 minutes ain’t that far,” he had said. To you, the 20 minutes to your aunt’s place was an eternity. But you also hated driving. Or being in cars in general. Part of the reason you picked the place you lived was because just about everything you needed was within walking distance.

He had bought you dinner last night at your favorite little burger place. You had decided that if he was going to get to know you, then you might as well be up front about your eating habits. As you happily devoured your double burger cooked with onions and mustard mixed into the patties, you had looked over to see him watching you, a grin on his face.

“What?” you had asked, your mouth stuffed with burger.

“I love a woman who enjoys her food.”

You had nearly choked. Instead, you had taken a sip of your neopolitan shake and continued to eat, ignoring the heat suffusing your cheeks.

Tonight, he said he was going to let you pick the restaurant again, since you were paying. You had argued that since you had picked when he was paying, it was only fair that he picked this time.

But he was savvy; he told you that you’d know the area better than he did; he trusted your judgement.

So tonight was going to be the flip side of your food habits; a vegetarian place. It was a small place that specialized in veggie bowls with a grain of some kind. You wondered how he would handle it. You knew some guys were picky about this sort of thing, and while you had a fleeting thought that it might not be fair to judge someone based on their eating habits, you also knew that you wouldn’t have fun with someone who wasn’t as adventurous as you were.

When he showed up at 6PM again, just as you were wrapping up your work, he walked inside and looked around, marveling at your work. You had taken today to decorate the shop, put up signs, and make sure everything was beautiful and presentable. When you started, you weren’t sure you were going to be ready in time for your Saturday grand opening, but with John’s help the other day, you had a bit of time to spare.

“Place looks real nice,” he commented as he leaned closer to one of the display benches. You watched as he leaned in and sniffed the peony blossom, closing his eyes. It was such a contrast to how he looked. His biker boots were worn and scuffed, and a green plaid flannel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, looking black as if he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore ripped black jeans and a black button down sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles perfectly.

“So, where we goin’ tonight?” he asked.

You grinned.

***

To your surprise, he didn’t complain; he only nodded and went with you, walking the three blocks to The Green Grill. You helped him order, and he didn’t try to mansplain or anything of the sort. He was just a down-to-earth, humble guy, and you could feel yourself falling for him more, even though it was only the second date.

Dinner. The second dinner.

Afterwards, like a gentleman, he walked you back to your place, holding your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He had wrapped his flannel around your shoulders when you had shivered.

“That wasn’t too bad,” John said as the two of you reached your place. “Better than what I was expectin’.”

“And what were you expecting?”

“I dunno, goat food, I guess.”

You laughed at his answer. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t hate it,” you teased. Then you looked at him for a few moments. “You’re not just saying that to be nice, are you?”

He pulled you close. “I ain’t a nice man. But I’m always honest.” He cupped your cheek as he spoke, making sure he had eye contact with you so you knew his words were true.

Your heart beat stuttered at how close he was.

“Can I see you again?” he murmured, his raspy voice sending electric tingles down your spine.

“Of course,” you breathed. “If you want, you could come to my grand opening tomorrow morning.”

He suddenly looked a little sad. “I can’t, I have work.”

You nodded. “That’s alright. So do I,” you said, one side of your lips quirking up in a joking grin.

“Dammit, you’re so cute.”

He tipped your chin up with his forefinger and slowly leaned in. You gravitated towards him, closing your eyes as he closed his.

John’s small moan of pleasure as his lips met yours shot a zing of desire through your body. He stepped forward, pressing you up against the glass door as he kissed you more, his body covering yours, his hand gripping your hip and pulling you against him.

Then he pulled away, leaving you both breathless, pupils dilated with desire.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, even though his face clearly said he wasn’t sorry.

“No, it’s fine, you.. That was nice,” you finished lamely.

He softly smiled at you before he took your hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed the back of your knuckles. “I’ll call you when I’m free. I promise.”

You nodded, surprised by his touching gesture. He caressed your face delicately with his fingertips. “You get some rest. You got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead. “See you later, sweetheart.”

As he walked away, you realized, with the pounding of your heart, that he could have easily continued to make out with you some more and you would not have stopped him. Instead, he hadn’t even given you the option to ask for more; he had stepped away to let you rest.

You went into your shop and turned in for the night, but couldn’t stop thinking of stormy grey eyes and a wry smile.

***

“That was barely enough to cover the work it took to get those cars,” John grumbled as he stuffed his cash into his wallet. Dutch had come by, dropped off the envelopes of money for the gang, and had taken off, claiming he had more work to find for them.

Arthur shrugged, but his face showed creases of worry on his forehead. “Dutch said it’s gettin’ harder to sell these days.”

“Then maybe we should find regular jobs.”

Arthur stopped walking and turned to John, who had continued to walk to his bike.

“What?” John asked when he finally noticed that Arthur wasn’t next to him.

Deep in thought, Arthur looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “This ain’t the way we was. We used to ride around for fun, took on jobs that helped others. Now, well, now we just use our bikes because they’re good for gettin’ away from the cops.”

They were both silent. They knew that the others had part time work, or worked a series of gigs to make money besides their work with the gang. For John and Arthur, the gang was all they had. Dutch was all they had, for the longest time. They were two orphans with a charismatic man for an adopted father who was changing more and more by the day.

Perhaps the silence was to mourn the loss of the life they had. But it hung in the air like a hangman’s noose, threatening to cut off their air.

John took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “I’m goin’ for a ride.”

Arthur just nodded. “I’m gonna make a couple of deliveries,” he said as he walked towards the Sprinter van.

John knew what those deliveries were. He didn’t have to like it, but the pay provided for them, so he said nothing. He knew Arthur felt the same.

Hopping onto his bike, John took off to let his mind wander, letting himself ride with no destination in mind.

He found himself in a familiar town, on a familiar street, near a familiar storefront.

***

It had been a few days since you had seen John. He had called you at least once a day, asking you how your day was, asking how you were feeling. You didn’t ask when he could come see you; you didn’t want to seem clingy. He hadn’t said anything about when he’d be coming back; you assumed it was work that was keeping him away, and you understood that.

He had yet to call you tonight, as you sat at your work bench, putting your tools away.

Someone knocked on your door.

You saw a couple of older men in biker jackets, holding their helmets under their arms. Coming up to the door, you hesitated to open it after seeing their stern expressions.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed for the night,” you said through the glass.

“You new around here?” the taller of the two men asked gruffly.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Technically you grew up here, but then you left two years ago. “What do you want?” you asked, ignoring his question.

“Insurance funds. To protect your shop against vandalism.”

“I already pay insurance,” you said, ignoring the fact that this was clearly an extortion attempt.

“This is different. Call it a special insurance.”

“I’m calling the cops,” you said, pulling out your phone to call 911.

“Hey now, no need for that,” the shorter man said. “If you don’t think you need it, we’ll be on our way.” He nudged the other man with his elbow and together they walked off.

You looked at the back of their jackets; in large letters, ODB written across the top, with a green skull inside of a four-leaf clover below it. The letters MC were on the right of the symbol.

A biker gang.

You quickly googled ODB MC, to find that it was the O’Driscoll Boys Motorcycle Club, and they had recently started moving north. They had members known for extortion and money laundering, but the club itself had never been shut down, since it was the members and not the actual organization that did any of the crimes, or so the news said.

Shit. You wanted no part of this.

You called the police station to report the incident. Afterwards, as you attempted to put your phone back into your pocket, you realized you were shaking.

“John…” you mumbled, knowing that you could just call him if you wanted to hear his voice. How had he become the first name you thought of?

In your head, you heard his voice saying your name.

Then you heard a knock on the glass and turned around.

“John!”

You ran to the door and unlocked it quickly, throwing it open.

He looked at you, his eyes taking in your state in a heartbeat. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You crumpled to the ground and started shaking again.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he coaxed, kneeling down and holding you in his arms. He rubbed your back soothingly. “I got you.”

***

You told him about the men, about the symbols on their jackets. John’s expression turned dark as you told him everything.

“They won’t quit, they’ll keep comin’ back. It ain’t safe for you here all alone.”

“I called the cops, they said they’ll put some extra patrols around here for a while.”

John let out a snort. “They’ll just wait’em out, then they’ll come back.” He suddenly gripped your shoulders. “You have any problems, you call me, you hear?”

You nodded. “Okay, John. But you’re 40 minutes away, I don’t expect you to just come riding in if I call you.”

John hung his head. “I know. But I’ll try to be here as often as I can. Alright?”

The conviction on his expression was touching, but you were a practical person. Unless he moved to your town, you were mostly on your own.

“Why don’t you stay with your aunt and uncle for a while?”

The thought had crossed your mind, but you had dismissed it pretty quickly. “I don’t want to trouble them…”

He shook you slightly. “This is your life we’re talkin’ about here! Troublin’ someone is the least of your worries!”

You nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll call them.”

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

Chapter 4

#biker au #john marston #john x reader #rdr2 fanfic #writing #fanfic #eventual smut #modern au

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ladyreapermc · 5 years

Text

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com 16/17

Author’s notes: we coming closer to the end and I already have plans for a sequel, but still not sure which ending I’m going for!

Summary: Keanu and Lilah meet at the set of John Wick. Rom-com shenanigans ensues

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Wordcount: 2977

Warnings: just a lot of fluff

Keanu couldn’t remember the last time he had to do this, meet a girlfriend's family. Then again, it had been quite a while since he’d been with someone long enough to consider them a girlfriend. But if jumping on a plane like a mad man so he could be with Lilah in her time of need didn’t make her Keanu's girlfriend; if it didn’t show exactly how serious this thing between them had become, Keanu didn’t know what else could.

That was why his heart was beating wildly and his hands felt clammy as Lilah led him into the waiting room for the surgical center. Keanu was thankful that he had the forethought of taking a few moments at the airport to freshen up and change clothes. The last thing he needed was to meet Lilah's parents smelling like he had spent almost 20 hours inside airplanes.

When they walked into the room, three people turned to look, and Keanu tried to swallow around the lump of anxiety on his throat. He spotted Lilah's mother right away. She was an older version of her daughter, with only a few subtle differences. Her was eyes were a shade darker, but they have the same warmth that Lilah’s had, even though they were watching Keanu with curiosity and confusion.

“Mom,” Lilah started, her voice trembling slightly, and Keanu was only a little relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one nervous. “I’d like you to me Keanu. My, uh... boyfriend.” Her mother’s eyes widen a little as she glanced back to Keanu. “Keanu, this is my mom, Alba.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bennett,” Keanu said, discreetly drying his palm on his jeans before shaking her hands. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Nice to meet you too, Keanu,” she replied her voice carrying the same melodic accent Lilah sometimes let it slip, but Alba’s was much more prominent.

“This is Susan, Jamie’s mom,” Lilah introduced the gesturing to the blonde woman sitting next to Alba. She nodded at Keanu with wide eyes and he nodded back, fighting off the awkwardness he felt under their scrutiny.

Lilah took a seat at her mom’s side and Keanu sat next to her, trying to ignore the way Susan kept sneaking glances at him. He wondered if his age or his career caught her attention the most. Probably both.

He glanced sideways at Lilah, at the way she was twisting her hands together, knee bouncing nervously. Keanu took one of her hands in his, squeezing slightly and she looked over at him and smiled.

She looked exhausted, face pale and dark circles under her eyes and he wondered for how long she had been up? Probably as long as he had been. He shifted on the ratty couch, bringing an arm around her shoulders and Lilah cuddled closer to his side, resting her cheek against his chest. He caressed her arm softly, humming a little under his breath because he knew it relaxed her and after a few minutes, he felt her breath evening out and knew Lilah had fallen asleep.

“She really needed that,” Mrs. Bennett said in a low voice, startling Keanu. “Rest.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking down at the sleeping woman in his arms and couldn’t help the small smile. “She can be a little stubborn sometimes.”

“She thinks she can’t show weakness,” she said, her expression softening as she watched Lilah too. “She gets that from her father, unfortunately. It was nice of you to be here for her. Thank you.”

Keanu just nodded, startling a little when the doors for the OR opened and a man in surgical gown stepped out. He was as tall as Keanu, his hair more gray than black, his blue eyes sharp and intense. Everyone stood up when he walked in so Keanu nudged Lilah gently to wake her.

“He’s in ICU, but it’s looking good,” the man said, his smile bright and relieved. “He’s still under sedation and can’t have visitors just yet, but he should be ok.” There was a collective sigh of relief as they all hug each other.

Keanu noticed the exact moment that the man spotted him, catching the way Lilah was still pressed against him, slowly returning to consciousness. His expression shifted, eyes narrowing and expression turning stormy. Keanu realized that he wasn’t just a doctor, he was Lilah’s father.

“And who are you?”

Keanu didn’t know exactly if it was his voice or his tone that made Lilah snap to attention, back straight like someone just rammed a rod up her spine. She stood up and Keanu could almost see her bracing herself for conflict.

“Dad, this is Keanu,” she said her voice much steadier than when she spoke with her mom. “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” He repeated, frown deepening into a scowl, his face turning reddish. “Boyfriend?”

“Frank,” Alba whispered, laying a hand on her husband's shoulder. “This isn’t the time or place.” Keanu saw how Frank’s eyes seemed to flash in barely contained anger, but he nodded, looking away from Lilah and Keanu.

“I’m staying to keep an eye on him, but you all should go home. Tomorrow he should be up for visits.”

Keanu saw Frank sharing a quick look with Alba before he went back through the doors, no goodbyes, no other words. He glanced at Lilah and she had her lips pressed together in a tight, tense line, her shoulders hunched, her eyes downcast and Keanu realized that she was fighting the urge to cry. He considered pulling her into his arms. All he wanted was to protect her at all costs, even from her father but something told him it wouldn’t be appreciated. Not right now anyway.

Susan was the first to go, and while Alba made a quick visit to the restroom, Keanu turned to Lilah. Some of the tension on her expression had eased a little but it was still there.

“I should find a hotel to stay the night,” he said, pulling out his phone, which he had finally charged at the airport. His screen showed several missed messages and calls, all of which Keanu flicked away. He would deal with all of this later.

“You’re staying with us, babe,” Lilah said making him look up in surprise.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea considering…” he glanced at the doors her father had disappeared into and she nodded, the hard glint on her eyes was the same he had seen in Frank’s.

“I don’t care. You’re staying with us. He’s gonna have to deal with it.”

“Ok,” he sighed in resignation. The last thing he wanted was to get into a pissing contest with Lilah’s dad, but he didn’t want to upset her either.

Keanu followed the two Bennett women to the parking lot outside and he should’ve known his presence wouldn’t go unnoticed in the hospital because there were a couple of photographers outside, camera flashes blinding as they put their carry-ons in the truck and drove off. He needed to give his publicist a heads up when he got to Bennett’s house.

The drive was made in a strange silence, not exactly awkward, but not comfortable either, but fortunately, it was a short one and soon enough they were pulling into the driveway of a large two-store house with a gorgeous front garden. Alba led the way inside, dropping her keys on the side table by the door, before turning to Lilah and Keanu.

“I’ll get the guest room ready,” she announced, already taking a step towards the stairs.

“Mom, Keanu’s staying with me. In my room,” Lilah replied, and Keanu had to fight off the urge to wince. Especially at the way Alba’s eyebrows raised a little as she looked from her daughter to Keanu.

“Honey…” she trailed off as she caught her daughter’s stubborn frown. “Alright.”

Lilah just nodded, turning to Keanu and gesturing him to follow as she went up the stairs and into one of the rooms, flickering the lights on. He stood at the doorway, looking around because this was the room she grew up in.

He took in the dark blue walls a sharp contrast with the white furniture. The shelves were overflowing with books, DVDs, a couple of stuffed animals and other trinkets, but there were also several medals and trophies. There were a desk and chair to the side, with a bulletin board filled with yellowing pictures. By the window a worn-out armchair and floor lamp and Keanu could almost see a teen Lilah curling up in that seat, legs tucked under her as she read one of her novels. He could see in the walls the stains of glue at some spots, so he knew there must have been several posters around the walls too, making him wonder what they were.

“You can put your suitcase wherever you want,” she said bringing him back from his reveries. “Bathroom’s through there if you wanna take a shower,” Lilah said, turning to look at him and for the first time since they had to do the whole song and dance of introducing Keanu, her expression had softened and didn’t look like she was getting ready to face a battle. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“And I’ll always be,” he assured, kissing her nose to make her giggle in that way that he loved. “I’m sorry for all the problems I caused though.” Keanu almost regretted saying it by the way her smile fell and she looked away from him.

“That’s not on you. He’s just so…” she let out a frustrated huff. “He still treats me like I’m 9 instead of 29.”

“He’s your dad, Lil,” Keanu said, brushing her cheek and pressing a kiss on her forehead. “It’s understandable that he’s protective of you.”

“It’s still annoying,” Lilah complained sighing and stepping away from. Keanu could see the exhaustion into her expression again and he nudged her towards the bathroom. “You go first.”

“You could always join me,” she said wiggling her eyebrows and Keanu chuckled.

“One: we both too tired for that,” he pointed out and Lilah laughed as she began to undress. “And two: there is absolutely no situation in which I’d agree to have sex in your parents’ house.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, standing in front of him completely naked and Keanu felt his body hot with desire, especially at the sight of the bite mark on her shoulder and the fading bruises on her hips.

“I’m sure,” he said, turning away from her. “Go shower, Lil.”

“You know I like a challenge, right?” she said, pressing her body against his back and Keanu let out a long shuddering breath, especially when she kissed his neck.

A moment later, she was moving away from him and he only turned around again when he heard the door closing. Keanu let out a long sigh. She was going to be the death of him for sure.

He took the time to go through his suitcase searching for something to put on after his shower. He was dangerously close to running out of clean clothes. After a second of consideration, he moved to the bathroom door.

“Can I use your laundry?” he asked.

“What?” Lilah shouted back over the noise of the water. With an eye-roll, Keanu pushed the door open, peeking his head inside.

“Can I use your laundry?”

“Sure. Downstairs, down the corridor, the kitchen’s through the left, laundry is right next to it.”

“Thanks.”

Keanu gathered his dirty clothes on his arms, following the path Lilah described him and indeed finding the laundry through a door next to the kitchen. He dumped his load on the machine and went through the process of getting the circle ready.

When he stepped back into the kitchen, he was startled to see Alba standing by the stove, watching the kettle almost as if completely lost in thought. She looked over when she noticed Keanu standing there.

“Lilah said it was ok to use the machine,” he explained, gesturing at the laundry. Was he always this awkward around parents? Alba just nodded, glancing back at the kettle that had just started whistling.

“I’m just making myself some tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure,” Keanu nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen table. A moment later, she brought over two cups and he smiled at the familiar smell of cinnamon.

“It’s her favorite,” he commented, nodding his thanks and Alba smiled.

“Mine too.”

They sat in silence, each nursing their cup and Keanu tried to ignore the way she kept sneaking glances at him, but every once in a while he unintentionally caught her eye, her gaze uncertain, curious. She would look away with a small huff.

“I’m sorry, it’s just very strange to have you sitting here in my kitchen,” Alba finally said, and Keanu just met her gaze with a questioning look. “I was used to see you on her computer and on the posters on her wall.”

“She had posters?” he asked with a grin and Alba chuckled and nodded.

“From that movie with all the green and the computers.”

“The Matrix,” Keanu said with a chuckle of his own.

“Yes. That’s the one. It’s one of her favorites,” Alba said, and he nodded. That he had figured already. “I wish she would’ve at least told me she was seeing someone.”

“To be fair, it’s kinda new,” Keanu explained with a sheepish smile. “We were both a bit clueless at first, but I really care for your daughter, Mrs. Bennett.”

“I know,” she said with a warm smile that immediately settled Keanu’s nerves. “And I think it’s a bit more than care.” She gave him a knowing look and he chuckled again, duckling his head because he knew he was blushing. “As long as she’s happy, I’m ok with this.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you two talking about me?” Lilah asked, padding barefoot into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around her mom’s neck and Keanu smiled. They could pass off as sisters instead of mother and daughter.

“Yes. I was about to bring out the baby pictures,” Alba said, and Lilah’s eyes went comically wide.

“No! Absolutely not!” Lilah said, shaking her head and Keanu grinned slyly.

“Now I wanna see it. I bet you were an adorable kid.”

“The cutest!” Alba cooed, looking up at her daughter with a soft smile. “Chubby cheeks and untamable hair. Always reaching for the camera.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, but there was a fond smile playing on the corner of her lips. She stepped back as Alba got up, bringing her cup to the sink.

“You two don’t stay up too late,” she said, kissing her daughter’s cheek and whispering something in Portuguese to Lilah that made her laugh. “Good night.”

“What was that about?” Keanu asked after Alba moved away and Lilah sat on his lap.

“She said the long hair suits you. She’s not a fan of the beard, though,” Lilah explained with a giggle and Keanu laughed. “Don’t worry. I like the beard.” She winked.

“I know,” he replied with a smirk, rubbing his cheek against her neck and making Lilah squeak and giggle. He was glad to see she had finally managed to relax some more now that she knew her brother would be ok. “I’m gonna take that shower.”

After his shower, dressed in a clean pair of sweatpants and shirt, Keanu went through the task of returning messages and calls, making sure everyone knew where he was and why. Chad and Dave were very understanding of the entire thing, but he would need to be back by Monday, or they would be behind schedule. His publicist was none too happy with the fact that she would have to deal with paparazzi photos of him, but it was too late now. That genie was out of the bottle.

He was at the end of his call with Kim when Lilah finally came back, crawling in bed with him and Keanu spread his arm so she could cuddle against his side like he knew she was fond of. It was almost and automatic motion by now.

“I switched your clothes to the dryer,” she said, and Keanu winced. He had completely forgotten about laundry.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Lilah shrugged and yawning and tilting her head up to look at him. “Are you gonna get any heat from your people because of those photos outside the hospital?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he assured, kissing her forehead in reassurance and brushing her cheek and jaw. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“I know,” she sighed, bringing his thumb into her mouth and Keanu gave her a warning look. “I just don’t want you to get any backslash from studios or fans for dating me. Besides, I wouldn’t really mind being on the background.”

“I mind,” Keanu replied, leaning closer for a kiss. “You’re my girlfriend and not some dirty little secret. Studios and fans gonna have to deal with it if they don’t like it.” Lilah flashed him a pleased little smile and cuddled close to him. “Let’s get some sleep. It has been a long twenty-four hours.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, settling against him and whispering something against his chest. The words were familiar, even if he didn’t understand her. It was the same thing she had drunkenly mumbled on the cab that first time they slept together.

“I don’t know what that means,” Keanu said with a frown, looking down at Lilah. She looked up again and he could see the hesitation in her face, in the way she bit her lip.

“It means I love you,” Lilah finally said with a small, shy smile. Keanu grinned, his chest warm and bent down to kiss her.

“I love you too.”

x(tbc)x

go to part 17

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