#also yall have no idea how much self control it took for me to write this oneshot instead of

[akechicrimes]

7 or 71 for either shuake or yukamitsu [big eye emojis]

7. “I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere.”

On Goro’s thirty-fourth birthday at ten-thirty in the morning, Akira calls him at work and says, “Happy birthday, dear. I just got hit by a car, and I need to know what color bike you want.”

*

On Goro’s thirty-fourth birthday at ten-thirty in the morning, Akira calls him at work (which Goro dubiously eyeballs for a whole four seconds before picking up) and says, “Happy birthday, dear. I just got hit by a car, and I need to know what color bike you want.”

Well, neither Goro nor Akira own a car for Akira to drive, so that means Akira got hit on foot. Goro is very calm, and has no immediate panic response to that, because he’s a rational and responsible adult. “Are you dead?” Goro asks.

“Probably not.”

“And is there a reason you’re calling me instead of the ambulance?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I think I have a bruise on one of my legs, if that counts. But I was riding your bike when it happened, so the bike got totaled, so, you know. They’ve got the same model you had, but there’s tons of new colors, if you want pictures.”

Goro takes a very long, very deep breath. Goro is very, extremely calm. “Anything is fine,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, hundred percent. I even landed on my feet; you should’ve seen it.”

“You should go to the ER anyway,” says Goro, in a voice that is truly the epitome of calm.

“I mean, I guess I could, but that seems like a waste of time. And I don’t want to just leave your bike in the middle of the road.”

“Throw it away if it’s wrecked, then.”

“But it deserves a proper send-off.”

“You’re doing this to me on my birthday, Kurusu.”

“I’ll go to the ER if you go with me,” says Akira hopefully, who is a perennially bad influence who is of the opinion that Goro should have just said he’d be ‘working from home’ and spent the day with him.

Goro takes a look at his calendar, tallies up how many meeting he’d have to reschedule, and waits a whole five seconds before he lets himself say, “Fine,” because Akira just said that he’s fine and Goro isn’t upset and everything is so calm that Goro can wait five seconds before agreeing to leave work. “I’ll see you at Leblanc.”

“Wait, wait, which color for the bike? They’ve got green, blue, a red, a kind of fun rose-gold thing, which is a bit excessive considering it’s a bike, and teal, and a kind of blue and orange Naruto-y thing…”

“Anything is fine.” Goro stops. “Except the last one.”

“Red it is! See you in a bit.”

“Don’t ride that bike back to Leblanc,” says Goro, as if lightning might strike twice on the same day on the same man riding the same model bike of the same color, but Akira’s already hung up. Goro speed-drafts a rescheduling email, copy-pastes it to four different people, and then sprints out the office door without even a goodbye to his coworkers.

*

Friday, 11:16 AM

FUTABA: hey

FUTABA: hey goro

FUTABA: hey gorororororororororo

FUTABA: HEY MR AKECHI KURUSU

GORO: If it’s about the traffic accident, I heard about it.

GORO: I’m going back to Leblanc now.

FUTABA: no it’s smthg else

FUTABA: well it is about the accident but i got smthg else for u

FUTABA sent MOV19.mp4

FUTABA: ripped this from the traffic cam

GORO: Is this footage of the accident?

FUTABA: yeehaw

GORO: …Thank you for the offer, but I don’t know if I want to see this.

FUTABA: ok i hear u but i promise it’s hilarious

FUTABA: and also u might feel better if u see it

FUTABA: like idk what he told u on the phone but like

FUTABA: look the car even slowed down at the intersection

FUTABA: the dude was obeying traffic laws and everything he was doing something like ten under the speed limit

FUTABA: the car ENTIRELY missed akira

FUTABA: got the bike full on

FUTABA: and then he just rolls up across the hood and up the windshield like a looney toon

FUTABA: rip ur bike tho it just goes cronch

FUTABA: instant pretzel

FUTABA: ty bichael for ur sacrifice

FUTABA: also idk i figured you

FUTABA: might wanna see for urself that he’s okay

FUTABA: like u can see him stand up at the end and he’s not even confused or anything he’s super duper ok

FUTABA: he’s not bullshitting u over the phone and pretending he’s ok when he’s not ok

FUTABA: u know how he does lmao

GORO: …Huh.

GORO: He really did land on his feet for a whole second there, didn’t he?

FUTABA: yeah like a cat

FUTABA: it’s nuts tbh

FUTABA: and then he remembers he’s a human and falls on his ass LMAO

FUTABA: show it to morgana i want his professional kitty cat opinion on the matter

FUTABA: rate akira’s near death experience

FUTABA: also the driver was v nice and v apologetic and he gave akira his insurance

FUTABA: but i have his home address and work address and phone number and the name of his dog if you want it

GORO: Just the insurance will be fine.

FUTABA: kk

GORO: …And thanks for sending the video.

GORO: Even though I already knew he was fine.

FUTABA: you know those like

FUTABA: itty bitty teeny weeny micro dogs

FUTABA: that are like four and a half pounds

FUTABA: but they think they can take any mfer on the block out of sheer will alone

FUTABA: and theyve always got their eyeballs bulging out and they pick fights with 70 pound dogs

FUTABA: and they have only two emotions which are rage and anxiety and they shake constantly because theyre only four pounds and they have So Much Emotion and nowhere to put it so they vibrate at the speed of sound

GORO: Is this a metaphor about me.

FUTABA: it’s a metaphor about you

FUTABA: because i can hear your shaky angry anxious four pound vibrating all the way from the other side of tokyo

GORO: You are the smallest, angriest, most anxious person I know, who regularly picks fights with international hacking organizations and billion-dollar companies.

GORO: And I, somehow, am the angry shaky dog.

FUTABA: your husband got hit by a car on ur birthday

GORO: I know that.

GORO: I do not need to be reminded.

FUTABA: ah yeah

FUTABA: sorry

GORO: He’s fine.

GORO: He said he’s fine.

GORO: And from this footage, he’s more than fine.

FUTABA: he is super double extra fine with a side of fine

GORO: Unless this footage was in any way edited.

GORO: And unless he was faking his call, somehow.

GORO: In which case, I’m going to walk into Leblanc and find out that he was just pretending to be okay so he could hear my voice one last time and Leblanc will be swarming with police officers to break the news the newly bereaved.

GORO: But that’s not going to happen.

GORO: Because Akira is fine, and I’m perfectly fine.

FUTABA: im rly glad to hear my man

GORO: This footage isn’t edited, is it.

FUTABA: no

GORO: Are you very sure?

GORO: Videos are easily modified.

GORO: Would you even know if it was edited?

FUTABA: yes im a literal wizard of course i would know

FUTABA: where are u even getting this idea from

GORO: The entire series of events is unrealistic, isn’t it?

GORO: You said yourself that it was almost like something out of a cartoon.

GORO: The likelihood that someone gets hit by a car and comes out of it entirely no worse for wear is practically ridiculous.

FUTABA: i ripped that film straight from the cam it is entirely unedited

GORO: But how can you be sure? Did you see him in live camera?

FUTABA: i mean no but he texted me

GORO: What if that was his dying text.

FUTABA: i rly dont know if his dying text would have been the “i lived bitch” meme with the cat filter

FUTABA: he’s fine dude

FUTABA: that’s why i sent you the video

GORO: I KNOW he’s fine.

GORO: I’m asking if there’s any solid evidence.

FUTABA: THE VIDEO

GORO: I’m going to call him. Brb

FUTABA: so what he can tell you he’s fine AGAIN and you’ll be like

FUTABA: “oh but what if it was secretly a pod person who stole his body after he died tragically after calling me one last time to hear my voice”

FUTABA: he is FINE

FUTABA: like go ahead and call him if u want but

FUTABA: the only person who was gonna edit that footage was me

FUTABA: and if he were dead i would not be functioning enough to be doing any kinda photoshop like that

FUTABA: let alone LIE to you jesus christ!!!!!

FUTABA: god

FUTABA: i pronounce you King Shaky Dog

FUTABA: the tiniest and angriest and shakiest and most anxious four pound goblin

FUTABA: i will reclaim my title tomorrow

FUTABA: for now it’s my birthday gift to you

FUTABA: the title of Shaky Dog allows you to go absolutely apeshit and nobody will judge you

GORO: You know I hate birthday presents.

FUTABA: did you call akira

GORO: I hate birthday presents so much that I will be refusing my title as King Shaky Dog and will henceforth not be going ape shit.

FUTABA: ok so

FUTABA: i didnt mean to

FUTABA: get snippy with you or anything

GORO: It’s fine.

GORO: I wasn’t… exactly polite, myself.

GORO: So.

FUTABA: um

FUTABA: you really can call him if you want

FUTABA: there’s nothing wrong with that

FUTABA: between u and me……………………. i definitely did that more than once for a lot lesser reasons than someone getting hit by a car

GORO: My stop is in less than thirty seconds.

GORO: I will probably live.

FUTABA: lmao ok well

FUTABA: if u change ur mind about losing ur shit then please know i gave u that footage in the first place because i think if something like that happened to MY partner i would mcfreakin lose it

FUTABA: speaking of her

FUTABA: sumi says happy birth btw

FUTABA: but cuter because u know how she is

FUTABA: “happy birthday crow-senpai~~~~~~~~” in her shy voice that makes u wanna die

FUTABA: ofoogofhghhfoghfhhghfh g gh SUMI ur so cute ilysm

GORO: Tell her I said thanks.

GORO: And stop telling me how much you love her and use the ring you made me go ring shopping with you for.

FUTABA: HHHHH

FUTABA: im being cyberbullied for being a cowardly lesbian

GORO: I’m at my stop, by the way, so I’m going offline.

FUTABA: which tbh i probably deserve

FUTABA: oh kk see u

FUTABA: watch the video again mr shaky dog

FUTABA: akira is fine

FUTABA: everyone is alive

FUTABA: you are one year older

FUTABA: happy birthday goro

*

The bike is totaled.

Akira isn’t the sort of person to dump a piece of trash right in front of Leblanc, but it’s hard to miss sticking out of the nearby public trash bin. The back wheel has exploded into serrated wheel-spokes and limb rubber bits that Akira’s shoved into the trash as best as he could. The body of the bike is crushed in on itself, exposing its sharp hollow innards; the handlebars resemble a badly-tied knot. The front wheel is left to stick up and out, creaking gently, spinning overhead from half a hinge like a head not quite fully severed.

The cafe is empty except for its usual barista who, of course, is a very normal and mild-mannered barista, who has nothing to do with the several hundred millions worth of dollars of repatriated art hiding in the attic en route back to South Korea. That would be illegal, of course, and Akira Kurusu-Akechi has never once in his life done anything illegal in the name of what’s morally right. “Welcome back, dear,” says Akira, and hangs up a coffee mug to dry, and it’s so normal that Goro is convinced that either he’s experiencing yesterday, or maybe he’s re-experiencing the year 2016 all over again, or maybe Akira really is dead and this is just his ghost.

Goro sits in his usual spot at the bar. Same chair, sixteen years later. Unbelievable. Maybe Goro’s giving him a little bit of a dumbfounded look, because Akira tilts his head, leans across the bar, and pecks Goro on the cheek.

“Where’s Sakura?” Goro asks.

“Having his midday old man nap. So,” says Akira, looking pleased with himself, “either we can close Leblanc for an hour and raid the kitchen and make lunch, or we can close Leblanc and go out and have a fancy lunch. Your choice because I already made dinner reservations and we’re doing those no matter what.”

Goro really means to give him an answer, because Akira really does love Goro’s birthday every year and never fails to pick someplace nice for the day, but instead what comes out of his mouth is: “Did you ride the new bike back home?”

“Yeah, I did. Figured I might as well take it for a test drive. It’s a good bike.”

“Why didn’t you take the subway?” Goro says sharply.

“Didn’t have my card.”

“You just rode the bike all the way across Tokyo?”

“It wasn’t all the way across Tokyo, just a bit away and back… Goro?”

Ah, Goro’s going to become one of those people who has a meltdown any time their loved one gets on a plane or a train or ksomething else associated with heebie-jeebie nonsense magical thinking. Great. Fantastic. God dammit.

“Do you really want me to go to the ER?” Akira asks eventually.

Goro really wants Akira to have never gotten hit in the first place, but people don’t get what they want and sometimes the universe decides to send one bad fucking driver through a red light and take away Akira’s entire life in a split second—one mistake, a coincidence at the wrong place and time, and the boy who fought God and won is a smear of bones on the pavement.

This would be different if it were sixteen years ago, and Goro had the power to bend people’s minds in half until they broke, or dive into the deepest, bloodiest parts of the collective psyche and pummel the worst of them to a pulp—but what’s he going to do here? Lambast a guy who was going ten miles under the speed limit and just wasn’t looking the right way? Is he going to summon a new Persona from his soul and undo time itself?

Can he do anything if the universe decides, one day, that Akira’s time on this earth is up? He spent all those years desperate for power, and then abusing that power, and then desperately guilty for having abused that power, and then desperately trying to get up that power, and now here he is with the power to do jack shit when his husband almost gets run over and if the Metaverse were still around he swears he would have carved Loki from his own soul out of sheer fury alone—

“No,” says Goro sharply, and stands up. “It’s nothing. I’m not hungry, and I’m going for a walk. Please don’t text me unless it’s an emergency.”

“What—hey! Goro, wait, wait—”

“I’m getting some fresh air!”

Akira’s scrambling to get out from behind the bar. “Didn’t you just get here—?”

Goro spins around and points a finger at Akira like it’s his fault: “You were the one,” he snarls, “who promised, when we got married, that we’d always be together. And now you get hit on a bike, and then stand up like it’s nothing and—and get on another bike and go cycling around the exact same streets where you got hit—? Aren’t you scared? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Akira falls silent. “I didn’t go back to the same intersection,” he says at last.

Goro can’t take this. “I’m taking a walk.”

“Wait wait wait, Goro, just—” Akira grabs Goro’s hand and Goro has the sudden urge to yank his arm away, but Akira’s hand is also incredibly real, just like it felt this morning and yesterday and the day before that and all the days Goro ever took Akira’s living, breathing body for granted. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. He was going, I dunno, twenty miles per hour at most. It was an intersection. He’d slowed down beforehand and everything, and I didn’t even get hurt on the fall.”

Right, because Goro’s the one who’s just freaking out for no reason. Right. Okay. Because that’s how he is, isn’t he, always being dramatic over little things. Right. Of course. This is fine.

When Goro doesn’t turn around, Akira moves around to the front to look him in the eye. “Sorry if I made you worry,” says Akira. “But it was really nothing at all.”

“Maybe it was nothing this time,” says Goro forcefully. “But what about the next time—the next car—the next time you borrow my bike? What about tomorrow? Or the day after that? Literally any one of the hundreds and hundreds of days coming up where you could easily die just as easily as you died today.”

“Then I’ll escape death hundreds and hundreds of times,” says Akira.

Goro scoffs.

“I mean it. I was a Phantom Thief, wasn’t I? I escaped death more than once. Did it again today. I’ll do it as many times as it takes until we’re both old and grey.” Akira takes Goro’s hand, but it’s Goro who laces their fingers together.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work that way,” says Goro, like a bad echo of his ten-year-old self, trying to figure out what kind of world would let his mother die.

“I’m just keeping my promise,” says Akira. “I told you that I’d never leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sometimes that’s not your decision to make.”

“It is and I’ve decided I’m immortal until you die.”

Goro scoffs. “Don’t be arrogant.”

“Is it being arrogant? I didn’t let death steal you away from me. I’m not letting it steal me away from you, either.”

“Sometimes…” Goro begins.

“'Sometimes’ what?”

'Sometimes’ what?

Sometimes things get worse. People die early, and unfulfilled; they streak through the sky in a blaze and then wink out, without even a burst of fire to show for it. Sometimes nobody gets a say in what happens, and plans don’t pan out, and wishes aren’t granted, and everything happens for no good reason and no good end.

Today, Goro Akechi-Kurusu is thirty-four years old, about sixteen years older than he ever figured he was going to be. He has a career in a non-profit for maladjusted youth getting reacclimated to school systems and preparing for college, instead of the career in law he figured he’d have if he actually lived that long. He doesn’t just have one friend, but multiple friends. He has, unbelievably, a husband, which honestly still floors him to this day, considering that he was and maybe still is convinced that marriage is a scam devised by asshole men like his father to manipulate young women into a false sense of security. The other day, Akira mentioned that he wanted to get a cat to keep Morgana company, maybe in a few years when they moved into a pet-friendly apartment, and in Goro’s head, it made sense that they would both be alive and together entire years in the future for them to get a cat.

Today is already an impossible day, isn’t it?

“Sometimes,” says Goro flatly, “you say ridiculous things, and I think that you could actually pull it off.”

Akira grins. Akira leans in for their regular greeting kiss when one of them comes home, but this time, Goro closes his eyes, leans into it, really tries to memorize the feel of Akira’s lips on his. Every line and scar on his hands, the odd ends of his fingernails, that familiar way he waits for four beats, then takes a breath through his nose and kisses Goro again, and never can quite seem to avoid kissing him more on the bottom lip than the top. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he says plainly not three inches from Goro’s face. “It’s bad form to leave a calling card and never show up.”

Goro smiles. “Then I won’t let you break your word.”

When Akira pulls away, he kisses the back of Goro’s hand, like a proper gentleman thief of old. “Happy birthday, dear,” he says, and surprisingly, despite the way this awful day started off, Goro thinks that Akira might be able to pull that promise off, too.

#clouis-loumentine #mine #I TRIED RLY HARD TO WRITE YUKAMITSU but it wasnt happening im sry #please take this apology akeshu instead #also yall have no idea how much self control it took for me to write this oneshot instead of #'goro akechi goes bald at age 24 and akira reassures him he still loves him even tho he has shido's hair genes' #honestly i shouldve done that

[ultimatetornshipper]

Daminette December Day 6

@daminette-december2019-2020

Oh what’s this? Two chapters in a row from Marinette’s pov? Sorry just couldn’t help myself, like I just had to man

Hope yall enjoy it~

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 6 – Comfort

Previous

Next

Marinette didn’t sleep that night.

Sure, negotiations had gone wonderfully and she, Cass and Steph had spent the afternoon discussing everything from fighting stances to Stephanie’s potential wedding dress. They hung out with Ivy again and went to the beach to pick up shells.

Most of the day's activities were Stephanie’s ideas but Cass and Marinette also enjoyed them. Now and then Jason and Dick would join them or Cass would go to do something or another, but Steph was practically attached to Marinette’s hip. She smiled, Alya and Chloe would be jealous.

She had fun, but when night fell and everyone had retired to their bedrooms, there was nothing to distract her from the memories.

His smile and the sparkle in his eyes when he was up to good mocked her whenever she closed her eyes. Reminding her that she’d never see them again.

When the birds started singing she’d given up trying to sleep. Marinette stood and for the last time she put on one of her black dresses. She put her hair in a single braid down her back and put on a practical pair of boots with it.

She stared at the silver necklace he gave her a month after they met. She hadn’t worn it since her week in isolation after he died. She'd kept it with her whenever she travelled but she’d never had the strength to wear it again.

She picked it up. On the silver chain hung an oval shaped emerald.

To remind you of me when I’m not with you, Bugaboo.

With shaking hands she tied it around her neck. It felt right to wear it this one last time.

She took a deep breath, she needed to be alone today, being around other people wasn’t something she had the energy for.

She eyed Tikki, still asleep on one of the many pillows on the bed. She loved her kwami dearly, but... she wasn’t in the mood for company.

She stood and walked over to where her writing supplies lie on the table. She quickly wrote a note for Tikki asking her to tell anyone who came looking for her that she was safe and that she’d be back by nightfall.

Satisfied, she grabbed her coat and her knife in its scabbard and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She didn’t want to eat, but she needed the energy if she was going to be out all day.

When she got there the staff were busy preparing the meals of the day, the smells made her stomach rumble.

She didn’t really know who to approach or what to do but before she could worry about it too much a middle aged man with red hair approached her, he wore an apron and gave her a slight smile, “You the Guardian?”

“Yes, that would be me,” she answered, before she could figure out how to ask for a basket of food or something similar he chuckled lightly.

“Your Majesty, Alfred said you might show up, he asked me to give you this and to tell you Bluebell is saddled up for you in the stables. He also said that George left a saddle bag in her stable for you,” he turned around and picked up a basket and a thick looking basket, handing them to her.

She stared at the objects in surprise, “How did he...?” she started, not even knowing how to phrase the question.

He seemed to know what she meant, though, and just shrugged, “He just does that sometimes. We’ve learned not to question it,” amusement shinning in his eyes, he continued, “But if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get back to work,”

“Please, don’t let me stop you and uh... thank you,” she said lifting the basket slightly.

She turned out of the kitchen and a small wave of homesickness surprised her. Nathaniel also always knew what you needed before you did, helpfully supplying it before you could even phrase the question.

It was an ability all of Duusu's holders had, knowing how to take care of people and enjoying the act of doing so.

She made her way to the stables as the first rays of dawn started lighting the sky. Small rocks and sticks crunched between her boots and the cobblestone.

The fresh, chilly morning air motivated her to don her coat. When she got to the barn she saw a young dapple grey horse saddled up in her stable. The name on the door said ‘Bluebell’.

“Hey girl,” Marinette held her hand out and petted her. She opened the door and attached the saddle bag to the saddle, putting the blanket in it. She tied the medium sized basket to Bluebell’s back the way she’d been taught since it distributed the weight best.

She lead her out and once they were outside she climbed onto her back. She lightly kicked Bluebell’s sides and made her way to the forest.

She followed the well trodden path through it for an hour, while the sun slowly rose over their heads. Eventually, they reached a beautiful meadow. The path continued on, but Marinette was hungry and wanted to stop and eat.

A river ran through the clearing. The woods stretched out the other side of it. In the distance she could see the range of mountains they’d passed on their journey to Gotham.

She took out the blanket and spread it out. Then she removed and opened the basket. Inside she found all her favorite foods, as well as a bundle that contained apples, carrots and sugar cubes for Bluebell.

She allowed the horse to roam free, but she never wandered far. Marinette ate a few grapes, a small bun of bread and a few bites of cheese.

She gave Bluebell an apple and a sugar cube. The rest she rewrapped in the cloths she got them in. She removed the charcoal and parchment in the basket that Alfred had added for her to sketch with. It was a nice surprise; she wouldn’t have thought of including it.

She wasn’t sure when she started talking to Bluebell but eventually she found herself telling the horse everything, from the moment she met him to her initial thoughts. She told her about things she hadn’t thought of in ages.

She told her about how his favorite color was blue and his favorite season winter. She told her about how hard he'd tried to hide it when he started realizing he was getting sick.

She told her about how weak his grip had gotten towards the end and how it taken every piece of her self control not to take his ring and wish it all away.

She wasn’t sure when she started crying but before long her cheeks were wet and she was sobbing as she spoke of the memories and the pain and just how tired she was.

And when she was done she realized that it was already afternoon. She fed Bluebell some more, even though she’d grazed for most of the day, then she packed everything onto Bluebell.

As she rode back she felt as though a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Today she’d found something in Bluebell’s presence that she hadn’t experienced for the longest time.

Bluebell didn’t have expectations of her, she was a horse, she didn’t put her on a pedestal like everyone else, to her she was just another human.

Maybe some people would find it funny that she’d found comfort in a horse, but Marinette couldn’t bring herself to care.

It was dark when she got back, she unsaddled Bluebell and brushed her.

She dropped the basket and blanket off at the kitchen and asked the staff to pass on her thanks to Alfred.

She made her way back to her room, passing the sitting room, just as Dick was exiting it. His eyes widened when he saw her.

He looked incredibly relieved, “Guys, I found her!” he called out, then made his way over to her, worry still evident on his face.

“Marinette are you alright? We were so worried,” he took her hand and seemed to be checking her over for injuries.

She frowned, had Tikki not told them that she was going out?

Steph suddenly appeared next to her, along with Jason, Cass and Damian.

Steph pushed Dick away from her, “She’s fine, Dick, you’re invading her space. I told you that Tikki said she’d be out,”

Stephanie’s hand rested on her shoulder. But she didn’t miss the way the girl’s gaze had caught on Marinette’s red rimmed eyes, along with the black rings under them, that clearly indicated that she hadn’t slept.

All the others still seemed intent on making sure she was fine for themselves, some less discreetly than others.

Jason took her cloak off before she even realized it and had folded it, asking a passing maid to wash it and fix the tears she hadn’t noticed.

Dick kept asking questions, but she zoned him out almost immediately.

Cass steered her towards a couch in the living room, and held her hand tightly, while studying her.

Damian was frowning at her muddied boots and a tear or two in her dress. It was an old dress, she was sure none of the tears were new, but she also had a feeling that wouldn’t ease his worry.

Stephanie started arguing with Dick, telling him to leave her alone and that she was clearly fine, though it seemed like she didn’t completely believe the words herself. She wasn’t the only one though, everyone looked worried.

Marinette was surprised, sure her court cared for her. But they never worried or asked questions about where she’d been, they trusted that if she looked fine she was.

So this, this was new.

She found that she didn’t mind too much. Well, she didn’t mind it in general. Right now, however, she was tired and emotionally drained and would rather explain everything later.

“Do you want me to take you back to your room?” Damian whispered from behind her, most of the others were too caught up in their own conversations to notice.

She turned around and met his gaze. Accept this time, she didn’t flinch. He seemed surprised too, maybe talking to Bluebell had done her more good than she’d realized.

She gave him a tired smile and nodded. He studied her for a moment more before looking up and glaring at his siblings.

“That is enough,” he said evenly, “She is clearly tired. If she so wishes, she will tell us what happened tomorrow. Now, I will be escorting her to her room so that she can get some rest,”

Most of his siblings stared at him in shock, while Cass smiled approvingly. Marinette stood and took Damian’s offered arm. He escorted her out of the room.

When they got to the hallway Plagg flew out and gave her a sad smile, “Hi, pigtails,”

She softly smiled back as they walked, “Hey, Plagg,”

He landed on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “You should have seen him freaking out when you were missing. A true black cat, overthinking everything when it comes to their bug. He'll do well,”

He then curled into her neck and purred, she hadn’t missed the sad tone in his voice. Plagg was still grieving, it would take time before he’d truly bond with Damian.

She looked at the boy walking next to her, he seemed to be lost in thought, but he glanced at her every now and then, as though he was checking to make sure she was still there.

She spotted the ring on his finger, reminded of what Plagg said, she decided to break the silence.

“I'm sorry if I scared you guys, I figured Tikki and the note would be enough assurance,” she said softly, turning her head to look at him.

He glanced back at her, and she saw his gaze catching on her red rimmed eyes, “She showed us the note, but those have been faked in the past to hurt us before and we don’t know what your handwriting looks like, a lot of people have been known to target us and those we’re involved with, so we’re a bit paranoid,”

Suddenly she understood their reaction, they thought she might’ve been captured and her note was planted to buy the kidnappers time.

“I didn’t realize that. Though, in future, you should know that you would’ve been able to tell if something was wrong through the miraculous, thanks to Plagg and Tikki's connection,” she said, smiling at him, “Thank you, though, I’m not used to people worrying about me,”

He looked at her in surprise, but his voice was even when he spoke, “How so?”

She shrugged and looked forward again, “People tend to overestimate me,”

What an understatement. Everyone seemed to think she was practically invulnerable. Well, except for Damian and his siblings apparently.

She felt him tense slightly, he seemed to be pretty protective of her already. He had resonated quicker with Plagg than she anticipated.

They walked the rest of the way to her room in a comfortable silence.

When they finally got there he opened her door, but before she could go in he took her hand. She turned her attention to him and he studied her for a moment, clearly hesitant.

“Goodnight, Marinette,” he said softly, staring into her eyes, gaze searching.

She stared back at him and gave him a small smile, “Goodnight Damian,”

That night she slept better than she had in years.

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @forgottenfriends @wolf-for-life @heyitsbugette @f-rget-lt

#maribat #daminette #daminette december #damian wayne #batman #marinette dupain cheng #guardian marinette #protective batsiblings #this chapter did not go how I planned it but like... i don't really mind it turned out pretty well #they all so worried about her #bluebell in the stable @ the other horses : yo man that girl got problems I'm telling u yall think ur humans have issues like damn #lmao #utp writes #marinette working through trauma by talking about it #yknow like a healthy person #unlike certain people #pointed look at batfam #batfam: and we were like we know but hey #my poor plagg #dami doesn't know what to do so he just listens to plagg and cass's advice #something to look forward to next chapter #i think #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #dc #ml x dc #dc x ml #everyone is hella worried and you can't blane em Mari has issues and they know it #*coughs* takes one to know one*coughs* #batfam: *glares at me* #thanks for reading

[tobesobri]

𝓣here was an ask meme going around about what scene was the sole inspiration behind your entire story and someone asked me what that scene was for Only Human and well it’s in this chapter and I will let yall guess which one it is :)

If you’d like a preview of Chapter 12 right now, you can join my patreon here! All proceeds will be donated to BLM. Thank you so much for all the love and support with this story ❤️

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h for editing ❤️

CHAPTER ELEVEN: ALL MY LOVE (4.7K)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

If she thought she was miserable before, there was nothing quite like quitting Harry Styles. Especially when his concerned texts had stopped, and especially when she had to hear about him every night since she’d made her decision to never end up in his bed again. It became a regular thing that Will came home with news about Harry’s album and how things seemed to be going really well.

Without her, she thought. Things were going well now that he didn’t have her hanging onto him all the time like a little parasite.

Keeping her distance was hard, but she knew it would be better in the long run. Even if she had to have a few days of trouble getting out of bed. And crying herself to sleep again. She’d deal with it. It was better than living in a fantasy world with Harry.

Some of his things still took up space in her room. A grey hoodie from Randy’s Donuts, a pair of his socks. His house keys. The former she unfortunately found herself sleeping in once or twice. She hated herself for it, but she needed something. It was like switching to vapor to try and kick a smoking habit. Still not great, but not as bad as letting the addiction run its course.

She kept his keys in her nightstand, where they’d always been, but now they were just a bitter reminder of the last decent day they’d had with each other.

There were no regrets in her mind when she looked back on all of it. Maybe falling for Harry was a contender, but she wouldn’t take back any of their nights together if it meant she didn’t have to deal with her shattered heart. He’d helped her so much more than he even knew. He’d opened her up, showed her that not everyone’s hands had bad intentions. And most importantly, she learned to trust him, with her secrets, with her body, her entire life.

Two entire weeks had passed since she’d seen Harry and it only just began to hurt a little less. Still, Fridays and Saturdays were the hardest for her to get through because they’d been her favorite nights with Harry. By the third week, post-Harry, she had finally stopped thinking about him every hour until Will backpedaled all her progress at dinner on Tuesday night.

“I’m throwing Harry a surprise party at his house on Saturday.” He’d started, taking a bite of his chicken before continuing, “All of us in the studio with him put it together since he finally hit the halfway mark with writing. It’s not done but I know how hard it’s been for him so we felt like it was time to celebrate something, you know. Anyways,” he took another bite, “you’re all invited. Especially you.”

Will narrowed his eyes at Y/N, being the most aware roommate out of them all to know that she’d only been in a good mood a few days after the last party he took her to. She was back to hiding in her bedroom most days after that, so much that the past two weeks he wasn’t even sure if she was still alive at times. Something had clearly looked up when she finally joined them for breakfast and he was taking full advantage of it.

“I um… don’t think I can do another party at Harry’s.” She cringed, all the bitter memories of her last couple days with Harry flooding back.

Will sighed, recalling their conversation in the car the morning after. Maybe it wasn’t his best idea to invite her to another party Harry would be at, but if it would get her to do something besides work and hibernate, he’d take it. Besides, she said she didn’t like Harry that way and Will believed her. “It won’t be like last time.” He assured, “It’s mostly just people from the studio and his manager and stuff.”

She considered it. Maybe Harry would be too distracted with everyone else to pay her any attention. It didn’t take long, but she didn’t even want to try feeding Will excuses not to go. She wanted to see Harry again. And she hated herself for it, for not letting him go like she’d promised herself to do, and for stupidly being excited about seeing him again.

The ‘For Sale’ sign was still up in front of his house. Will talked her head off about it too, about the apartment Harry had shown him last week that he saw the ocean from.

She hated every second of it.

When they walked through the doors and she spotted how everyone else was dressed, she felt a wave of insecurities crash on her. Nobody was dressed as formal as she was, and maybe she wasn’t all that formal objectively, but she almost never wore dresses. Everyone was in jeans and polos or casual button-ups. A couple of women had on dresses too, but not quite like hers. They definitely didn’t wear heels either. She hated Will for not telling her she didn’t need to dress up, but, glancing over at him as they walked side by side into Harry’s kitchen, she realized she should have known better. He was also in jeans.

Some of them looked at her while she stood awkwardly beside Will, but luckily it wasn’t long after they had arrived that Harry was due back and the surprise part of his party got set into motion. There weren’t many people at his house, but they still hid everywhere they could, in his kitchen behind the island, crouched into corners together so that they weren’t visible from the front door. Everywhere it was physically possible to hide they did.

Except for Y/N. She didn’t want to see everyone happy for him. She didn’t want to know about how great his album was going to be or who he’d written his songs about. And she didn’t want to be among the faces of people he worked with, feeling so fucking out of place in her stupid fucking outfit she’d worn for stupid Harry who still didn’t fucking like her.

So she went someplace where she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. The room that welcomed her like a warm and unconditionally loving hug. Where she felt a wave of relief. Where she felt safe, sitting in his armchair at the end of his bed, staring out over the city lights in a way she didn’t think she would ever again.

She had no clue if he’d ever come up here and find her and she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to. She just wanted to see the view one last time before it was gone forever.

The shouting from downstairs caught her attention because it was clear he had finally arrived. He could enjoy his night celebrating something huge for himself, even if it was only a small step in the making. She’d be out of his room before he found her in it anyways.

At least, that had been her plan. Just a little while longer and she’d leave. Spend the rest of her night stealing hopeless glances at him from across the room until she’d finally had enough and begged Will to take her home. That was the plan.

But it didn’t go as well in real life as it did in her head. Not when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs and she panicked. She stood before they got there, spinning around the room for someplace to hide but it was no use.

Harry stood in his doorway before she even got the chance to think of another plan. Instead, he caught her red-handed in the middle of his bedroom, alone.

“I, uh…” she pointed her thumb over her shoulder at his large window, “wanted to see--”

“The lights, yeah.” He nodded, finishing her sentence. She couldn’t help the hurt inside to see the smile stripped completely from his face the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

“What happened to you? You packed all your stuff and never answered my texts.” He took a step closer, his voice a little more commanding.

“I can’t do it anymore, Harry.” She mumbled, and he stopped walking towards her, completely taken aback by her words.

“Why not?” He breathed, feeling the heartbreak of the last few weeks without her all over again in his chest. He had even got so bad that after constantly turning down Will’s offers to hang out at the apartment, he nearly found himself begging Will to invite him over just to see her, but he knew that would have been a mistake. She needed her space and the way he’d felt about her after she told him to forget the kiss was more than enough to keep him away. He needed his space to stop being so mad at her.

But seeing her again, it all came flooding back.

She let out an exasperated laugh like he should know why. “You kissed me. And then?”

With his eyebrows furrowed, he came back at her twice as hard. “You told me to forget about it. So I did. Why are you mad at me for doing what you asked?”

He was right and there was no denying it. There was no more arguing with him about it. She dropped her shoulders and stared out the window again. “Can you please just tell me you did it because you were drunk? So I can move on.”

“Move on?” He snapped, his tone harsh enough to get her to look at him again, “You moved on from me the second I got home from New York, Y/N.”

She started to panic again, but this time there was no possibility of escaping. She had to face him, with or without tears in her eyes.

He continued while she was quiet. “I slept with her because I couldn’t sleep without you. I don’t understand how you’ve not realized that.” He continued.

“I don’t care who you sleep with, Harry.” She practically yelled at him and it took every inch of his self-control not to leap across the room when he realized she was crying.

“That’s the problem.” He deadpanned, keeping himself grounded instead of letting his emotions get the best of him like they always seemed to do.

“Harry!” Someone unfamiliar to Y/N shouted from downstairs, garnering both of their attention. “Hurry your ass up already!”

Pinching his bottom lip between his fingers, he turned back to face her, finding the tears that had spilled gone from her face like they’d never been there to begin with.

“I need to get dressed.” He explained and she quickly maneuvered herself out of his way. Not saying another single word to each other while she left his room and snuck back into the party she didn’t want to be at.

Glances were, in fact, shared between the both of them. Mostly because he wasn’t finished with her yet and in reality, neither was she with him. She could wallow in her self-pity all she wanted, telling herself Harry never liked her this or it was all in her head that. But she was fucking lost again without him the past couple weeks. Her only regrets now were leaving and she’d take it back in a heartbeat if she could. Just get over herself and be with him anyways because if she truly did not care who he slept with, she wouldn’t have let that stupid text message get the best of her.

She wouldn’t have spent every morning in the mirror telling herself she did not have a face Harry could ever love and bringing herself down for no fucking reason at all besides finding comfort in her own miserableness.

Hindsight is a bitch though.

The party died down sooner than his last one had, after they brought out a cake with a photo of Harry on it from long before Y/N knew him, possibly when he was sixteen or seventeen, she’d assumed, and then they proceeded to shove his twenty-five-year-old face in it and start a cake throwing war in the middle of his poor kitchen. That was when things died down. When some went home because they had children or were covered in cake and it was getting late, and others, who didn’t get absolutely pummeled by chocolate cake, stayed talking amongst themselves in his living room with empty glasses of champagne.

Y/N, on the other hand, was in an almost lifeless position beside Will on the bar stools at the island counter, barely listening while he and Harry and some others discussed stuff she knew nothing about all while Harry was still trying to get cake out of his hair.

She felt the agitating urge to clean up the rest of his kitchen, too, mostly because she couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. And maybe if she and Harry were on slightly better terms, she would be.

It was when Will’s phone rang that it finally got a lot quieter. There was still music playing softly in the background and chatter from others in a different room, but once Will took the call and left them all alone in the kitchen together, it was almost silent.

“You’re going to need to shower for like… forty minutes to get that all out,” Glenne teased. Y/N had learned she was Jeff’s girlfriend, and that Jeff was Harry’s manager. And she thought about how well all three of them knew each other and for how long while Glenne ran a strand of Harry’s messy hair between her fingertips to remove some stuck-on frosting.

“Forty minutes is a typical shower for him, try two days,” Jeff scoffed, poking fun at Harry’s expense.

“Heyyyy,” Harry grimaced, pretending to be offended as they both fucked with him, “stop taking the piss, I’m not in there that long.”

She hated that she agreed with Jeff. Harry did take long in the shower.

It felt weird, though, just watching them all interact, like she was someplace she wasn’t supposed to be. These were Harry’s friends and she was nobody to him, at least not publicly. And maybe not privately either. She had no clue how Harry felt about her, if he wasted any time even thinking about her at all anymore when she wasn’t around.

But then all eyes seemed to land on her. “Sorry, I forgot your name, um…” Glenne looked like she was reaching for something across the counter in front of Y/N while she tried mentally sifting through all the names she had to remember.

Harry answered before anyone could, however. “It’s Y/N. She’s… Will’s roommate.” Harry’s eyes went from Y/N, to Glenne, and finally landed on his manager. Giving him a look Y/N didn’t quite understand. Mostly because she was too focused on how cold he’d been talking about her, like she really didn’t mean a thing to him at all. She was just Will’s roommate to him. Even so, she couldn’t help feeling like it was more than she deserved from him.

“Y/N! Right! Can you hand me that phone right there?” She pointed to a discarded iPhone with a blue case that had been sitting in the same spot for quite a while, and Y/N returned it.

She didn’t say or do anything else after that, just slipped out of her chair, grabbed her purse and started walking away from them to find Will. She’d sufficiently had enough.

But when she reached the foyer, where she distinctly remembered Will running off too, he was nowhere to be found. She looked around for him a few moments more before pulling her phone from her purse to call him. Before she could, though, she noticed the text from him that had been sent five minutes prior.

(Will, 12:03 pm)

I’ll come back to pick you up. Sasha called, her mom’s in the hospital.

Her first reaction was shock, hoping that whatever was going on wasn’t too serious. And then she realized she was stuck at Harry’s after having already made her exit. She didn’t want to be mad though, Will had an emergency and it wasn’t like she hadn’t spent countless nights in Harry’s house before.

This was just one night she didn’t really want to spend here any longer.

And instead of waltzing herself back into the kitchen, she stepped outside for some fresh air. Or rather, she leaned into the doorway because it was far too cold to spend any length of time outside.

“Where’s Will?” Harry’s voice appeared from behind her and she twisted around quickly when he startled her.

“He had an emergency.” She slowly stepped back inside his house. “Said he’d be back to pick me up later.”

“Oh.” He paused, swallowing the nervous pit in his throat while whatever bottled up anger towards her that had been festering washed away. Seeing her standing there alone reminded him of every single one of her secrets she’d shared with him and even if he was mad, she didn’t deserve to be treated poorly by him. “You know you can stay here.”

She nodded, crossing her arms around herself and avoiding his eyes.

“I want you to stay.” He added once he got closer to her and her breath caught in her throat. He wanted her. Those words and the sweet smell of chocolate cake in his hair and just… him being near her again like this was enough to make her dizzy.

She thought about saying a million things to him, but settled on something that was classically her instead. “And I want you to take a shower.”

It was possibly the first time in weeks that she’d seen his smile. A genuine, dimply, toothy, Harry smile that made her hate all the time she spent missing out on it.

“Don’t go anywhere.” He pointed his index finger at her and she nodded just before he ran upstairs, taking them two at a time.

She didn’t like his house as much with all the people in it she didn't know. Not a single face she recognized as they littered all the places she and Harry had once been. The middle of his living room where they danced together. His kitchen where he’d given her a glass of water the first night they slept together. His couch where he’d given her the keys to his house.

Sighing, she found a spot where she could be by herself and texted Will back not to worry about her, that Harry was letting her sleep on the couch. Stretching the truth was something she did well when it came to Harry after all.

More people left, being seen out by Jeff and Glenne instead of Harry until what few people remained lingered on the sofas around her, drinking the last bits of wine he had left to offer and watching the logs burn out slowly in his fireplace.

Jeff plopped himself down beside Y/N and Glenne next to him, and while she was wrapped up in a conversation, he leaned slightly towards Y/N, keeping his voice down.

“Harry told me about you, you know.”

She looked up from her phone, a bit frozen in place as she slowly craned her neck over to him. He looked at her with a reassuring smile even though she was terrified to death. What exactly did Harry’s manager know about her?

“He’s been a pain in the ass recently thanks to you.”

“What?”

Before Jeff could explain anything, Harry was making his boisterous entrance back into what was left of the party. All cleaned up this time though with fresh clothes on and dampened hair. He looked like he’d just been working out with water leaving a sweat-like appearance on his forehead and what could be seen of his chest. He was still just as hot coming out of the shower and she mentally smacked herself for thinking it.

“Not saying that you all have to go home, but you do have to get the hell out of my house now.” They all laughed at him for a short while until everyone who had lingered to say their personal goodbyes and final congratulations to Harry started trickling off as he walked them all to his door. Jeff and Glenne were the last to go, but eventually she was alone again.

And she stayed on her phone until she heard his front door close and the familiar sounds of him pressing the code into his security system keypad. Her stomach did all sorts of twists from somersaults to cartwheels knowing it was just the two of them alone again. Knowing he was closing up his house while she was still in it. That she wasn’t going home tonight as planned after all.

“Are you sleeping in here?” He asked once he’d reached the open entrance to the living room, hovering his hand over the control panel, waiting for her before he shut off all the lights.

She pulled herself up from the couch after taking a deep breath. They were doing this again. And she knew damn well whether or not anything had happened with Will that she was going to end up in his bed somehow anyways. He followed her up the stairs and into his room again, lifting his fingers to graze her arm and get her to stop once they were smack dab in the middle of it.

When she turned to see what he was doing, his entire mood had shifted. He wasn't fun, bubbly Harry right now. He stared at her the way he had before he kissed her, except this time they were both completely sober. And maybe that’s why she let him take one step closer. She let him reach his hands around her back and carefully pull the zipper of her dress down.

“You still clean up nice,” he whispered, sending goosebumps all across her skin, “but you look even better in my shirts.”

Without even thinking, he pulled the shirt he currently wore off and over his head, handing it to her like a peace offering. But he just hoped she still needed him enough for at least one more night of their bullshit. He hoped she wanted him too, as much as he wanted her and he hoped that this wouldn’t even come close to being their last night.

They stared at each other while she switched outfits, his eyes never wavering from hers while she changed. Not that he didn’t want to look, but that he didn’t expect her to do it all right there in front of him like she had never done before.

“Better?” She asked once clothed again, her dress in a familiar pile on his floor.

He just nodded, slowly, and like he was in some kind of trance, especially when she turned on her heel and went straight for his bed. Getting in under the covers on her normal side and patting the empty space next to her for him to join.

Swallowing thickly, he slipped in beside her. Just like old times.

She turned on her side, facing her back to him and scooting herself right up against his front, grabbing his wrist to pull his arm over her and his body closer. All the cold words they had exchanged earlier in the night melting right away.

They got used to each other again, folding arms around each other so that there was no telling where Harry ended and Y/N began. He breathed in the beachy scent of her hair and she felt his heart beating against her spine. The three weeks she thought she could quit Harry were a total waste when they fit together just the way they always had. Like puzzle pieces who needed each other to finish the bigger picture.

Harry shifted slightly behind her and she felt the brush of his lips at her ear.

“You know the songs are about you, right?” He spoke softly, forcing her eyes to shoot open. And when he did it again, he said something that truly made her heart burst into a million tiny pieces of rainbow colored confetti. “Know you’re the one I’ve been in love with all along, don’t you?”

She twisted her head around to face him, to meet him a lot closer than they’d been since his last party. To look into his eyes and make sure he was being serious. And when she felt his heart pounding against her upper arm and his eyes steady as ever, she knew he wasn’t fucking around.

All he had to do was take one glance at her lips for her to twist herself just the tiniest bit further and mend them both back together again. This time there was no alcohol, there was no doubt or self-pity. No rock between them.

She slid her hand up his neck to his jaw, pulling him in while she arched her back against him to reach his lips properly. His own hand found a home at the side of her face as well, rubbing gentle strokes across her cheek as they finished where they left off all those nights ago.

Except this time, he had actually said what he needed to say to her before it was too late.

She felt him start to pull her onto him, as slowly as he possibly could. He gauged every one of her reactions just to make sure he never pushed her too far. And when she was half on top of him with her leg wrapped around his and one of his hands on her waist, things got a little deeper.

She held his face in both her hands, breathing heavily every time she got the chance to before going right back in for more. And his lungs burned too, moaning against her lips every time he lost his breath.

This time when she pulled away, it wasn’t to apologize or give him a look like she regretted it. Instead, she laughed and let him get some oxygen back into his system.

He had her again not even seconds later, though, and she was too wrapped up in it to even care about anything else. She’d save it all for the morning. Right now all she wanted was his lips and his hands on her lower back, wrinkling the fabric of her shirt in his hold so much that he exposed her pale pink underwear beneath the covers. She didn’t really care about that either.

What she did care about, however, was when he snuck a hand up underneath the back of her shirt, feeling his fingertips on her bare skin there for the first time ever. And instead of feeling scared, she opened her eyes slightly and saw him. That it was Harry she’d learned to trust. To touch her, to hold onto her secrets, and keep them safe. And he made everything so much better than it already was.

She explored his body a little bit more too, grazing her hand over his chest while he kissed her harder. Feeling his heartbeat in her palm and then his biceps tensing beneath his skin.

She let him undo the clasp of her bra, both hands around her back to get it off within a second, even while he was distracted. He knew she didn’t sleep in it, so he was only doing her a favor. Because now was not the right time to do anything he wanted to. There were still a lot of unsaid words and he really couldn’t keep his eyes open much longer anyways.

They separated again when she pulled away to remove the straps and throw the thing off the side of the bed while he grinned at her.

Coming back to him, he caught her face in his hand before she violated his lips any further. “I could kiss you all night, but I’m genuinely exhausted,” he whispered sleepily.

She shook her head at him, “And people say I’m the lightweight.” Scoffing, she instead settled into his side, resting against his chest in her familiar spot and watched his chest move up and down rapidly until he eventually caught his breath and fell asleep.

Taglist: @afterstylesmadeit​ @cxnyon-moon-deactivated20200417​  @chrryblsms​ @whydontharry​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas​ @idkthisisjustforfanfic​ @teddysoldbird​ @shawnsblue​ @thurhomish​ @theasstour​ @hufflepuff-always-and-forever​ @staceystoleyourheart​ @granolagrannie​ @defineharry​ @iambabyharry​ @1142590m​ @ashtondene​ @smokeinherperfume​ @cherryyharryy​ @mellamolayla​ @chrryblsms​ @cassiopeiaskies​ @sunflowerjens​ @detroitkiwis​ @brwnskin-bunnyteeth​  @meetmeinfleetwood​ @harriesgolden​ @rachkon​ @caritocp​ @sspidermanss​ @forestliz​ @grandfunnyemopainter​ @metalmerida  @httpsmoony​ @iconicharry​ @cheesecakebagels​ @cronias13​ @dontyoucallhimbabby​  @brassharry​ @whothefudgeisharrystyles​ if you’d like to be added, go here :)

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #onlyhuman

[terushimas-n1-hater]

I couldn't help myself. Couldn't stop imagining you being oikawas sibling, and hiro mattsun and iwa having the biggest crush on you. Also vale said she liked the idea so here is this everyone have fun.

@iwasumi this a warning shawty because this is not good <\3

+

#⚠️.w: men. but don't worry they're hot 🙄 cusssing, flirting stuff like that. Also this is messy and not written well its just kinda 'whatever goes into my mind i write it' kinda thing.

#🎭.g: its fluffy? Idk but its definitely something.

God, you didn't expect them to be THIS loud. They act like its the end of the world whenever they lose a match in some video game. All you had planned was to finish your assignments and take a nap, and that is not possible when they're yelling like that. "Dont worry!!! We well try to not make too much noise." Liar. An absolute liar you are oikawa.

You kept texting oikawa every three minutes telling him to quiet down but he was too busy to the point he didn't hear the ringing that's coming from his phone. "...tooru!!" You called from your room "yes??" He simply responded "oikawa get your fucking ass here right now!" "[Name], im in the middle of a game right now what do you need?!" You've had enough of him. You went downstairs to the living room to meet the four boys who were playing video games on the family TV. You looked mad, and oikawa took notice of that. He immediately paused the game and looked at you a very anxious look. You started to tell oikawa to be a bit more quiet because you're trying to finish your work. "Dont worry pretty girl, we'll be more quiet." A short haired headass with dark hair and dark eyes decided to speak (-matsukawa), with a little smirk on his face. Your face immediately dropped to a bored like expression. Some light pink haired dude (-hanamaki) elbowed the other one like he made an accomplishment? "Hahaha yeah, sorry...." and the other one with muscles and short dark brown hair said with an awkward smile(-iwaizumi). "Mattsun don't ever call my fucking sister "pretty girl" thats disgusting." Oikawa said snatching the controller out of his hand. "Im going to order some food, the usual or something different?" Oikawa asked you "ooou, what the cuties "usual" hm?" The pink haired one said, also followed by another "hahaha yeah..?" By the one with the muscles again. "The usual oikawa thank you." You said completely ignoring their little comments. You went back upstairs to your room, sitting on the chair you went back to continue your work. 20 minutes later you're finally- well almost done, you still have another homework you still haven't finished. You were tired and very thirsty and you just wanted to take a break, that homework can wait just a bit.

You went downstairs again to get your self water and a snack while scrolling through your phone. Yet again you're met with these dorks from earlier. They all smirked and started to whisper to each other something while looking at you. I mean you really cant fool yourself they are really attractive, but still its weird. "Whatcha lookin for?" The short dark headed one asked, you didn't respond. Now the one with the pink hair and the one with dark short hair came closer to you. "You probably don't know our names isnt that right? Well my name is hanamaki and this guy is matsukawa-" "you can call me issei...I would love to hear that come out your pretty mouth." "Uhh anyways and that beefy dude over there is iwaizumi" issei points at the guy sitting on the couch "...hahaha hey..."

"Does he always act like this- iwaizumi, does he always act like that? All I heard from him is just awkward giggling..." You asked "oh no no he's just...a little awkward around girls" the two men giggled "hey! Im not deaf, I can hear you two. Just wait till she goes back upstairs and your ass is gonna get beaten." Iwaizumi said.

You knew they could see you blushing like that. Both the boys were on a side. issei was resting his elbow on the counter, he was on your right. Makki was on the left on same position as issei. It all kinda made you feel dizzy. "Oikawa had talked about you before...saying how he loves you and how much of a good sister you are." Makki came a bit closer taking his hand and putting it underneath your jaw and gently lifting you head up to look at him. "Uh? And what about it?" You giggled a bit looking at him "Nothing! Nothing at all. although, im mad at him for not telling me his sister was this damn hot." "Makki I don't really think brothers say that..." issei said putting his hand over his mouth trying to hold in his laughter. "Please...I just wanted to eat my biscuits." You turned around and opened the cabinet to look for the damn fucking biscuits. And of course, oikawa put the biscuits at the highest shelf just to annoy you. You didn't want to ask these two to get it for you for obvious reasons. "Uhh iwaizumi? Can you please help me get the biscuits from this shelf?" You looked over at him, he was sitting on the couch on his phone. He was a bit shocked by the sudden ask but got up anyways. "Hey! That's not fair" "yeah right, we're literally right next to you shawty??" "Please don't call me shawty issei.."

"Thank you iwa." You took the box from his hand and got on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Opening the box as you went back upstairs.

I hate this bye yall 🏃‍♀️

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi x reader #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki fluff #hanamaki imagines #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa imagines #⌨ shay!writes

[kodzumie-archived]

Y’all make me so h word with these asks bro please.. the talent yall mfs have is absolutely immaculate. I love it here, I love all y’all I swear

Anyway, a thought for the masses-

Bully!y/n with Nagito who goes insane and wants revenge 🤠 this is a long one so be prepared and forgive any grammar mistakes I started writing and then didn’t stop LMAO

you spent years tormenting him. Like in the worst ways possible. When you were younger you Pulled his hair, stole his lunches, pushed him around, even cut his hair at some point. As you guys got older your torment got worse. And Nagito being the guy he is always took everything you did in stride, a sweet boy. Everytime you yelled he’d always apologize for being in your way. Acknowledging that he was beneath you in every way and didn’t deserve to breathe your air.

Years pass and you guys have graduated and gone your separate ways, you’ve become very successful in your job. So successful everyone suspects you’ll be living in comfort for the rest of your life. However, though Nagito had never said anything out loud, but he’s always wanted to return the torment you gave him, maybe not in the exact way but ya know. His need for revenge turns into an obsession, his hatred for what you did to him fades into a psychotic love for it. Your harsh words were his, your icy glares were his, your disgust was his, so.. that means the rest of you is his too, right?

And just his luck! You’re adults now, running into each other at a bar (which actually wasn’t a coincidence, he did some stalking to find out where you usually were on days off.) he walks up, striking a conversation, you’re clearly not in a good mood based off how many glasses are in front of you. You catch up with each other, and surprise surprise, you’ve been fired from your job, something about you stealing work from another colleague, which you were framed for! But no one believed you? what a tragedy, (of course.. he already knew though.. ) and Nagito being the gracious former classmate he is offers to let you room with him until you’re back on your feet! What an amazing man he is, right?

Fast forward and you’ve been living with him for a few months now, the once loud you that was there is now a shell. Every job interview you had has never worked, multiple nasty rumors about you going around making socializing and just leaving the house in general hard (wonder who started them.. ) you’ve become a hermit, completely depending on Nagito to survive. And of course because of your sense of pride and repayment, anything he asks of you, you do! Because how could you not? After all that time tormenting, he’s still so nice to you, so you have to pay him back right? Of course that way of thinking only became so after thorough manipulation and guilt tripping on Nagito’s part. But it was worth it. When you cry to him about being helpless, he comforts you in his arms, calling you beautiful and amazing. When you’ve been particularly good by his standards, he spoils you with things his knows you like. And he can tell by the look in your eyes that his plan has worked perfectly. Not only did you need him, you now loved him too. Your life has completely fallen apart in his hands, your every move is now in his possession and he can dictate you as he pleases. everyday he comes home to see his pet ready and willing to serve him in any way he desires. Perfect execution.

As always—and I mean always—this is perfection.

AAAAHH LEMME SCREAM ABOUT HOW THE READER WAS JUST—!! THE BIG BAD BULLY THAT MADE HIM RUE HIS CHILDHOOD IS NOW RELYING SOLELY ON HIM

SHEHUD YES YES YES!!! HIM GETTING HIS REVENGE IS SUCH A GOOD TWIST AND IDEA FUUUUUCK YES!!! NAGITO IS NOT A PUSHOVER!!! MF WILL FUCK UP ANYONE WITH THE POWER OF HIS LUCK AAAAAAA

THE GRADUAL MANIPULATION AND THE FATEFUL ENCOUNTER AT THE BAR IS WHAT LED TO IT ALL AAAAA!!

OH OH OH OH AND ALSO—!! PLEASE ALLOW ME TO APPLAUD YOU FOR THE SET-UP OF THE READER’S PROBLEMS!!

Rumors are seriously so damaging to one’s reputation and the opportunities they’re provided depending on the severity of those rumors; even if they weren’t confirmed! Which I adore that being a major point in why the reader can’t get back on their feet without Nagito to aid them.

aND THE WAY THIS IS INCORPORATED WITH NAGITO’S CHARACTER AS A WHOLE AND IN SUCH CONTRAST TO HIS USUAL SUBMISSIVE SELF AND THIS TIME, HE’S THE ONE BEING HAILED!! HE’S THE ONE ABOVE THEM!!

Gahh..!! I can’t explain how much I love the dynamic in which Nagito’s not the worshipper of someone. It’s a fresh contrast for him to have reign over another! And especially with the way you potrayed it! You remained in the realms of his character yet you delved to the idea of him being in control; him taking over.

AAAHH I LOVE THAT SO MUCH, I CAN’T EVEN PROPERLY EXPRESS HOW BEAUTIFULLY YOU’VE CONVEYED IT ALL!!!! BULLY READER + MANIPULATIVE! VENGEFUL! NAGITO IS AN INCREDIBLE CONCEPT

VEGA, BABE, YOU’RE LITERALLY A GENIUS!!!!

#kodzu.asks! #kodzu’s.loves!

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 04 | thomas jefferson

 title: freedom of the press

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich --- hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

words: 13.5k

warnings: this still doesn’t go past, like, pg-13, but careful around the end -- it isn’t quite sfw even tho its not rlly nsfw. also, neo-nazi mentions, the loml monica lewinsky mentions, bunny slippers & flaming hot cheetos (hope yall can handle it gettin SPICY 🔥)

desc: you’d just moved to d.c. full time, a promotion at your publication leading to a transfer to another district chapter, and you were more than thrilled to be there, more than ready to immerse yourself in the world of politics. what you weren’t ready for, though, was how the campaign trail you were following made your heart flutter and your stomach turn. you also hadn’t expected it to be so… gaudy? magenta? – or perhaps, though you wouldn’t hear of it, that wasn’t the campaign’s effect at all.

Y/N SPENT THE following days, the next weeks, focusing on herself. She was letting herself get distracted, and with that, distracted by precisely the person she was supposed to be focusing on. It felt ironic, really, but she wasn't amused.

She spent time tapping her sources from and around the campaign trail, trying to establish a connection with other politicians who had been identified as potential candidates for the election, trying to expand her network beyond her small corner of the policy scene. ("The policy scene" was much bigger than she'd thought.)

She reached out to think tanks, to analysts, economists -- she was getting a little off track, but basically, she talked to everyone with no link to the name "Jefferson," despite the precise nature of her assignment.

Her stab at freedom from the now-former Secretary of State was to little avail. While he was the foundation of his campaign, there was enough else going on surrounding the election that she could dance around confronting him.

Yet, not for as long as she'd have liked.

She was knee-deep into finding the perfect person to cold call at Brookings when the crucial blow came.

"Y/N!" Her boss's perpetually peppy voice rang through the hall toward her office, and our fatigued heroine looked up with a brow raised. Ashley stopped in the doorway, appearing elated. "Guess what?"

Her eyes flashed with crazed excitement, and Y/N almost didn't want to ask what. It felt very much like a trick question.

In response to Y/N's expectant stare, silent and unmoving, Ashley sighed and entered. "You should be a lot more excited when I come running down to your office with a 'guess what,' y'know."

She sighed. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry! What ever exciting news could I be missing out on at this very moment?" Her contrived enthusiasm reeked of sarcasm, but Ashley's spirits were too high to be quashed, and she only rolled her eyes in response.

"So, you've been covering the Jefferson campaign for months, right?" Apparently she was ignoring the less-than-thrilled response. Y/N nodded. "And you were out in front of it before anyone else was, right? You know more than anyone else about his platform and history."

Grudgingly, she nodded again. "I suppose so." She was equally unexcited to claim to know Thomas Jefferson's past better than anyone else.

"And, he's projected to be the Republican frontrunner."

"The debates haven't even started, everything could change in a night," Y/N pointed out. "You know that."

"You're right, the debates haven't started." Y/N was clearly missing something. Ashley seemed to be unreasonably thrilled about the lack of pre-existing clash between the candidates. She raised a brow, and Ashley appeared to be holding back a squeal with how she was grinning. "But, the debates are only a few days from now, so, I called in an old contact from NBC, and of course, they'd heard of you--" She paused for dramatic emphasis, but the anticipation wasn't exactly killing Y/N, "And... since the Washington Post is co-sponsoring the event, they want to have you as one of the moderators for the first round of debates!"

With that, Y/N was struck silent. "They...?" She could only gape for a moment, and Ashley nodded excitedly.

"Mm-hmm. It's against precedent, but since you've become the most prominent and consistent reporter covering Jefferson the past few months, they think your input would be invaluable."

"But what about my live commentary?" she asked, still dumbstruck. Everything in her was telling her this was a bad idea; she needed to protest her way out. "I won't be able to provide as good of coverage of the debates if I'm not taking notes and writing during them. It'll hurt my articles. This is too big of an event not to write for."

She knew she was rambling, but Ashley only let out a sigh, as though Y/N was being absolutely ridiculous. "Oh, come on. Your commentary's more valuable on the spot if it can be used to grill the candidates and get Jefferson to talk."

"'Get Jefferson to talk'? This is a debate, not an interrogation." She blinked, visibly put-off. "Besides, it's not like I'd be controlling the floor. I wouldn't be doing much good anyway, and it really wouldn't get me much notice." She paused a moment, trying to gauge Ashley's reaction, and swallowed. "I think I should stick to my own territory."

"Y/N." Her tone was firm now. "This is the biggest opportunity you're going to get for people to notice you as a political journalist. It wasn't easy to get you this position, and besides, you're perfectly equipped for it. You've spent hundreds of hours by now researching the issues, contacting think tanks for different perspectives on them, contrasting Jefferson with the other candidates, and..." She took a thoughtful pause. "And I can't even scratch the surface of what you've been spending all this time on. If anyone should be moderating, it should be you. This isn't the time for cold feet."

Ashley had begun monologuing, and Y/N knew right there that there was no getting out of this job. It's not about getting cold feet, though, Y/N thought, I can do it, easily. What Ashley didn't know, though, was that there was more there.

The growing pause following her boss's speech was heavy with expectation, and finally, Y/N sighed, knowing she didn't actually have a choice in the matter if she cared to keep her job.

"Fine. Should I book myself a hotel in Detroit?"

"Don't bother. It'll come out of company funds; it's the least we can do."

She sighed, turning back to her computer, closing the tab she'd just opened. "Michigan, here I come."

_______________

THAT CONVERSATION HAD taken place Monday, and, as Y/N later realized, the first round of debates were that Wednesday, so she had approximately 48 hours to pack, fly, and get situated in Detroit. That evening was a whirlwind -- Ashley texted her that the flight the WaPo had booked her left at 10:00 on Tuesday morning, she immediately began her frenzied packing. Which, in turn, brings us once again to the apartment, filled with Y/N's anguish, the hair she was tearing out with stress, and clothing strewn over the carpet's full surface area.

"What do I wear, Ang? I'm gonna be on national TV, I need to look good but so, so, so professional," she wailed, looking up at her friend who was perched on the edge of her bed. Angelica gave her a sympathetic look.

"You're overthinking it, honey," she said, "No one's worried with what you're wearing, alright? It's what you say, not what you look like."

"But I'm..." She sighed, arms going slack along with the three different dresses she'd been holding up to the light, shoulders slumping. "I dunno, it's just the first time I'm gonna be that clearly in the public eye. When I'm writing I can just hide behind the words."

"The time for hiding's over." Angelica pushed herself off the edge of the bed, joining Y/N in the garment tsunami that threatened to claim her furniture. "You got the spot with the debates because people wanna hear from you, so pick an outfit. Doesn't matter which."

"But it does." Y/N looked over at her weakly, everything in her expression reading dejected, from her furrowed brow to her little pout. Angelica gave her a pointed look, and she huffed. "I just... It's not only the public, y'know? I'm also up with all the famous newscasters and the fucking Republicans, for God's sake."

"Since when do you care what Republicans think of you?"

"I..." She hesitated, considering herself. Angelica made a good point -- since when did she care? "I don't, really. I just don't want to look bad on national TV on my first gig where I'm... visible."

She pursed her lips, praying the issue wouldn't be pushed further.

Finally, Angelica huffed, beginning to pick through the pile of Y/N's clothes, seemingly resigned to the angst that deciding one outfit had apparently proved to be. With a sigh, Y/N slumped against the footboard of her bed, her dejected stare meeting the multicolored flood piling around her ankles. She carded a hand through her now-disheveled hair as she checked her phone, unable to stifle a grin at her Twitter notifications coming from all different corners of the political compass -- not to mention, now, John Adams. Her recent article on Jefferson's voting history was blowing up.

She began to respond to a tweet, nails tapping frantically against her phone screen, and though she couldn't see it, Angelica raised an eyebrow.

She let out a soft giggle as she read another response to her post: this time, the successive Secretary of State, his voice being behind her loud and clear. The feedback on her writing was only making her progressively giddy. Her smile curled with self-content, though, as she saw James Madison's message about her post, sent directly to her. Angelica raised another eyebrow.

"Y/N?" Angelica's tone bordered on cagey as it cut through Y/N's laser focus. She looked up, eyes wide. "The concerns about your outfit wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Jefferson campaign, right?"

"Well, of course they do." She blinked, unable to place the intent behind the skepticism heavy in Angelica's words. "It's the only reason I have this gig, anyway."

Angelica pursed her lips; apparently, that hadn't been quite what she was asking. "Would it have anything to do with a specific person from the Jefferson campaign?"

Y/N paled. All-too-vivid memories of the state dinner that was now months past fought their way to the forefront of her mind -- her attempts to curb them hadn't been in vain till Angelica popped the question. "I'm sorry?"

The pause that followed as Angelica examined Y/N's look of near-panic was anything but silent, both their trains of thought threatening to derail themselves with conjecture. Angelica took in a shuddering breath.

"I just mean..." Y/N could hardly bear to meet Angelica's wary gaze. "D'you have a thing for James Madison?"

The next beat that passed was simply stunned. Y/N could hardly conceal her laughter in a huff; she had to swallow her amusement, every nerve in her body immediately relaxing.

"What did you just ask me?" She shook her head, small grin breaking out across her lips as her shoulders slumped. Angelica didn't look so sure. "I am not lusting over James Madison, Ang. He's literally married."

"Marriage isn't forever, babes." She pinned her with a skeptical stare, to which Y/N could only laugh.

"I swear to you, Angelica. You will at no point see me trying to jump James Madison's bones."

"So why'd you react how you did when I asked you about the Jefferson campaign, hm?" Angelica folded her arms, plainly unconvinced, and Y/N's breath caught. She'd supposed she was off the hook.

"What do you mean?" Y/N wished the question hadn't come out so breathily.

"Y/N," Angelica started, exasperated, "You've been messaging Madison on Twitter. You've met him multiple times and have spent your fair share of hours detailing to me each of the times you've met. You were just giggling at something he sent you." She was fully deadpan by then. "You don't need to hide it, I just want you to talk to me 'bout it."

"I promise, it's not that I'm in love with Madison." Y/N's smile as she returned to packing was meant to have been placating, but functioned as anything but. She needed to get back to packing before Angelica could press the matter. "Blue or green dress?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"I'm not, but I'm gonna be on a plane in twelve hours!" she said, "I need to finish packing."

"So there's no ulterior motive to how you're approaching the Jefferson campaign?"

For a moment just long enough to evoke doubt, Y/N paused. She wasn't inclined to reminisce on the last time she'd actually talked to anyone from the Jefferson campaign, but her psyche had other priorities. A nearly undetectable chill ran down her spine -- she could still feel his heavy hands trailing down to her hips, hot breath brushing over her cheek; she could even feel the sculpt and contour of his body as it pressed against hers, muscles rippling under his stiff button-down. Her skin burned still where rough calluses had grazed her neck.

"There's no ulterior motive, Ang." She wanted her words to be true, fighting back a shudder as she bottled up the memory. "I swear."

Angelica didn't look convinced.

________________

ABOUT TEN HOURS, a mildly annoying trip through TSA (the Post had paid for her pre-check, otherwise she'd have been less forgiving of the experience -- and the line), and two hours on a plane later, she rolled into her hotel lobby in Michigan, small suitcase dragging behind her. She knew she wasn't exactly a sight to see, just off a plane at noon in her socks and sandals, her oversized sweater. She certainly wasn't feeling as high-end as her hotel appeared to be.

The high ceilings, crown molding, and arched entryways all reeked of wealth, not to mention that the space was crawling with men and women in sharp suits, appearing as though they were on the verge of being willing to cut anyone who held them up for a moment too long. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one Birkenstock to the other, waiting for the manager to return to the front desk so that she could check in. As she warily eyed the man marching through with a clipboard, aggression in each step, she had to wonder why the Washington Post had decided to drop here there, of all places.

She would've loved to disappear into her sweater, at that moment.

The manager returned to her position, looking just as sleek and professional as everyone else there, and Y/N's appearance seemed to give her pause. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, yes, I'm here to check into my hotel room for the next three nights." She gave the manager her warmest smile in an effort to diffuse some of her tense nature, but it was to no avail. "I'm here with the Washington Post, but I think it should be under the name L/N?"

Y/N waited a moment, trying to roll some of her post-travel soreness out of her shoulders as the manager typed away at the computer before her. She creased her brow, frowning for a moment. "Y/N?"

"That's me," she said, enthusiasm weak in her voice.

"Alright, you're up in room 569, so let me get you your key." She paused, rooting through drawers as her coworker appeared next to her, apparently taking a post at the next laptop over. She looked back up. "Alright, you should be all set," -- she slid the keys across the counter to Y/N -- "but it's still early, and I'm not sure your room's been checked out of quite yet. Excuse me for a moment to go see about that."

Before Y/N could say another word, she was gone, and Y/N let out a heavy sigh. It'd been a long 12 hours, and all she wanted was a proper bed and a nap. It seemed rest wasn't what the universe had in mind for her, though.

She began checking her Twitter while she stood in wait, paying no mind to the energetic bustle of who she'd worked out to be politicians and the like, given the snippets of conversation she'd picked up standing there; however, tuning out became significantly more difficult when a familiar voice sounded next to her.

"Yes, only the next three nights. The room is registered for the surname 'Madison'." If she couldn't guess from his voice, his words were a dead giveaway. She looked up, and sure enough, there was the man himself. Well, shit.

Not only was she painfully opposed to having to interact with him in her near-pajamas and slipper socks, feeling like the biggest mess she'd ever been, but she also knew that where he was, Jefferson wasn't far behind.

She immediately busied herself with something, anything on her phone, facing down and away from him in the hope that he wouldn't notice her. She'd just pulled up a scintillating article on diabetes in labradors, when--

"Y/N?" The man at the desk helping him had disappeared when she reluctantly turned to face him -- busying himself with something other than helping protect her from social interaction, apparently. James, however, looked all but amused.

"Hey, James." She did her best to return the positive sentiment he perpetually seemed to give off, but she knew it came out weaker than intended. "Should I assume I know what brings you here?"

"Should I assume that it'd be the same thing that brought you here?" He quirked an eyebrow, unable to resist eyeing her outfit. She sighed.

"That might be fair," she conceded, small smile resting on her lips. "Is the campaign all ready for the first round of debates?"

He laughed; not a polite chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh, as though he couldn't believe the question. "Something like that. We've prepared Thomas as many talking points as we could think he might need, but I'm worried the moderators--" He gave her a pointed look, wearing a knowing smile, "--may end up grilling him regardless."

A wry smile crept onto Y/N's face. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Word travels fast, especially from the Washington Post's Twitter account."

"You really are always one step ahead, hm?"

"You're the one with the questions, last I checked."

"Well, I'm sure your campaign will be thrilled to hear them -- following you is why I got the gig, anyway." She only shrugged, despite the self-content etched into her grin.

"Oh, really?" Amusement was deep-set in his smile.

She nodded. "I'm forever grateful."

"Grateful enough to go easy on Thomas?"

"Not quite," she laughed, "When following his campaign makes me my first million, then we'll talk."

"Sounds like we'll have to step it up, then."

"Running on a deadline, James," she warned him in a singsong voice, folding her arms.

"We'll win you over by the end." He grinned, turning back to the woman at the desk, handing her his credit card, and shot Y/N a sly glance. "Thomas has always loved a challenge."

Her stomach turned at his words for reasons she couldn't explain, amused smile faltering for only a moment as James slid his card back into his wallet and tucked it into his coat pocket. James raised an eyebrow at her silence, her moment of hesitation.

To her delight, that was the moment the concierge returned, wearing a wide (and contrived, but that was how customer service was) smile, stepping back up to the desktop Y/N stood before.

"Alright, your room should be all set, Ms. L/N." She returned to quickly tapping at the keyboard, before pulling out a number of brochures. "These are for room service and the various hotel amenities. Our pool is on the second floor, gym is on the third along with the spa, meeting rooms are on the fourth, and the business office is on the fifth, fully equipped with desks and printers." She hesitated, glancing with disdain down at Y/N's choice of travel outfit. "Are... you here on business? Or... ?"

As she trailed off, Y/N sighed, returning the less-than-candid customer service smile. "Yes, I am, actually. Thanks so much for everything."

She nodded. "Alright! Don't hesitate to come let us know if there's anything else you need. There will always be someone here to help you."

"Perfect." She turned back to James as she folded up the brochures, shoving them into the side pocket of her purse. "Well, sounds like I'll be seeing you around, then."

"Thomas and I look forward to it."

Then, the automatic doors of the lobby slid open, and a rush of cold air, as well as a grand entourage, made their way in, catching both of their attention. "Well, speak of the devil."

At that, Y/N realized exactly why there was such a crowd, and it became immediately clear why the Washington Post had chosen that hotel to set her down in, among the countless in the area. Thomas Jefferson had just entered, along with a bustling crowd of Secret Service and reporters, all orbiting him like he was the sun. He wore a broad grin, laughing and shaking hands, and Y/N stared for decidedly a moment too long, longer yet than James had. Her breath caught as Thomas looked over at her, and she found herself frozen, rooted to the spot, his gaze locked on hers.

Thomas, too, was stunned when she caught his eye. His pause was minuscule enough to be unnoticeable, hardly a fleeting glance that even Y/N didn't think anything of, but his self-consciousness couldn't let it go in that moment. His smile faltered for a moment, softening to become small, apologetic, and certainly more sheepish than it'd ever been, all the teasing self-content drained out of it. For the first time, she returned the smile -- tense, nervous, but real.

The flash of a camera broke their gaze, and the moment ended as quickly as it came.

_______________

Y/N CRASHED ALMOST immediately into her hotel bed upon reaching her room; she'd had less sleep than she'd have liked during the past thirty-six hours, anxiety keeping her awake. She was shaken from her long-overdue nap, though, by her phone buzzing angrily next to her. She groaned as she recognized the number as belonging to Ashley, her boss, and declined almost immediately.

After that, though, despite her best efforts, her nap seemed to have ended, and much to her dismay. She made the mistake of instead opening her email, then, deciding productivity was the obvious cure for sleeplessness -- until she opened her most recent email from Ashley. (The subject line read 'IMPORTANT, IMMEDIATE, AND URGENT.' Got any synonyms for 'redundant'?)

The oversized, highlighted body text blared at her to the point where her eyes began to water, still adjusting to the light and certainly not ready to be staring directly into all the light of the sun her boss had managed to stuff into a single communication.

There's no reason to use font size 25, she thought, rather irked, and highlighting every word in bright yellow goes entirely against the point of highlighting.

She could only bring herself to skim the message, but when she did, she groaned at its contents, falling back onto her hotel bed in annoyance. Thomas Jefferson was having another campaign rally, apparently, to garner support going into the debates. And she was being prodded to attend.

It was expected to be a small ordeal; the venue was modest, and around 100 people would be in attendance, maximum. So, she went. Grudgingly, with a full 30 oz cup of coffee, and in jeans and a tank top, but she went.

She showed up just over 20 minutes before the event -- a town hall on his policy, as it turned out. She felt a bit out of place, the look she was rocking from her hiking boots to her disheveled post-nap bun not exactly screaming 'distinguished professional,' but she liked to think throwing a blazer atop the whole look saved it.

The venue was small, homey -- she'd read that it was generally used as a comedy club, but that the space could be rented out (obviously). Y/N figured the best use of her time there was to get to know Jefferson's base of voters. Who were they? What did they care about? And, most importantly, how long could they keep her occupied so she never actually had to speak with Jefferson?

The first person she met, though, wasn't exactly a supporter.

She'd tucked herself into a back corner as everyone swarmed Jefferson, who was busy giving his opening remarks, but she was content just to record them, to reserve judgment for the time being (verbally, at least). She had the audio being taped, all but absentmindedly taking notes for herself for the debates. Yet, there wasn't much substance in most of what he was saying.

"This seat taken?"

She looked up with her eyebrows raised, surprised to have been approached. What met her was the smiling face of a vaguely-familiar Democratic reporter, and eyebrow cocked in question.

"I... No! No, please sit." She smiled, motioned to the metal folding chair beside her. "We've met before, right? Ben Arnold, New York Times?"

"That's me. And it's Y/N, yeah?" He pulled out the chair, swinging a leg around it and resting his forearms on his thighs as he looked to her. "You're from the Washington Post, the one tracking Jefferson."

She sighed. "That seems to be everyone's first reaction to meeting me, hm? Jefferson's media adversary?" Her tone was joking, but there was a certain bitterness in them at her career now being irreparably tied to Secretary Jefferson. She hoped Ben didn't take it personally. "Yeah, you've got the right girl, though."

"To be fair, you've become famous for digging up info on him that no one else seems to have." He shrugged. "I've read some of your recent stuff, since we're following the same campaign; hope you know you're famous in your own right, even if it is tied to him." He nodded toward the stage with that, just as applause broke out and Jefferson began taking questions from the crowd.

She chuckled, though it was all but mirthless. "Thanks, but I'm not so sure about that. Everyone loves gossip, and they only know me because they think I'm here to dish out the dirt on Jefferson."

"Now, that's not true." She raised a brow, and he grinned. "They follow you because you knowledgeably and eloquently dish out the dirt on Jefferson."

"Oh, that's so different." She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help her laugh at his words.

"It's true!" he protested. "C'mon, there's a reason the public has latched onto your coverage and not mine."

"I dunno about that." She pursed her lips, stifling her small smile. "I've read your writing. It's really good."

"Aw, you've looked up my writing? I'm flattered." He appeared touched, though mockingly, placing a hand on his heart and plastering on an exaggerated pout, causing her to laugh.

"Well, you did give me your business card."

He sighed, nodded sagely. "Ah yes, I suppose the media circus is easily Google-able, huh?"

"What can I say, clowns recognize clowns." Her gaze drifted back toward the stage with this, turning toward Jefferson as she cast Ben a sidelong glance. The corners of her lips quirked up. "And we are all caught in this circus, too." The pointed look she gave Jefferson at that was entirely devoid of subtlety, and Ben laughed.

"Are you claiming Jefferson as part of our circus? A bold move, Y/N."

"Good point, good point." She leaned back in her chair with a grin. "So what are we, then? Consumers taking advantage of free entertainment?"

"I dunno, we're making money off this circus." He pursed his lips. "Shit, what d'you call the people who like, run the circus?"

Her eyes widened in amusement as she looked back over at him. "What, we're the ringmasters?"

"Yeah, yeah, exactly!" She couldn't keep herself from laughing at that, the idea of Jefferson as a circus freak or a traveling sideshow too comical to entertain. He cracked a grin as well, unable to take himself seriously. "C'mon, hear me out -- he's up there playing the fool, and we're making the big bucks off of it, hm?"

"Fair enough," she conceded, grin now chronic and apparently contagious. "Anyway, what're you here for? Just general info from the town hall, or looking for something specific?"

"Well, I figured this was my chance to question Jefferson before the debates, y'know?" He nudged Y/N at that. "Or can I just pass my questions off to you for tomorrow, since I've heard you're moderating now?"

She sighed. "Word really does travel fast when Jefferson's name is attached, huh?"

"Or it's because your name's attached." She gave him a skeptical look, and he held up his hands defensively. "I'm serious! People care about what you have to say now, y'know? Given, it is about his campaign, but really, it's your take on the next election that they want -- it's no longer just about him."

Y/N had to pretend her chest wasn't swelling with pride at that. Perhaps he was just feeding her ego, talking her up because he wanted to be able to use her for sources, but it was nice to hear regardless of the motive behind it. Her small smile grew. "Well, thanks, I guess. I'll certainly take it."

"You should." He looked like he was about to continue, but his following sentence was broken off by a sudden uproar of excitement. Hollers, cheers, and applause sounded loudly from the center of the room, and they both looked over to see Jefferson exiting the podium, moving down to begin talking to the voters there to see him, and Y/N sighed.

"Guess we'd better get a move on if we want anything out of this event."

"I suppose so." He huffed as he lifted himself out of his chair, and Y/N immediately followed suit, tucking her laptop into her bag. "You headed to talk to Jefferson?"

"Nah, actually." Her gaze darted through the room as she tried to find where to begin. "Just tryna find out what his supporters care about for the election. Needa know what points I need to drive home tomorrow at the debate." He nodded, and she cocked an eyebrow. "Care to join me?"

"Think I'll have to take a rain check, unfortunately. My editor wants direct quotes from Jefferson, and this is most of my window of opportunity." He glanced over at her with a small grin as they walked together toward the center of the room. "Come find me if you get sick of the Republicans, though. I'd be more than happy to abandon Jefferson for a cup of coffee at the place around the corner."

He winked before he made off toward where Jefferson stood, and Y/N was left stunned a moment. Shit, was he hitting on her? She couldn't help it as her eyes raked over his retreating form, biting her lip as she decided that she certainly wouldn't have minded if he was. After all, even the clowns need company in the media circus.

She didn't let herself dwell, though, but instead fixed her focus on the task at hand. She floated throughout the room for the next hour or two, meeting Ben's eye in passing here and there, receiving a wry grin. A few trends emerged from Jefferson's supporters, and they were fairly generic. Russia, China, healthcare, the crushing weight of existence and the feeling that they were running out of time, fear of the impending race war, healthcare -- y'know, the usual.

(Perhaps she'd spoken to one too many alt-righters. The fact that they were at the Jefferson town hall spoke volumes.)

A few hours deep, she checked her watch, concerned about how long this would go on, leafed through her notes trying to determine whether she had enough to just jump ship, to climb into her hotel bed, order room service, and take her pants off. She glanced back up at Jefferson warily.

Her gaze traveled lazily around the room as she decided talking to one or two more people wouldn't kill her, wincing internally even as she made the decision. She braced herself for just a few more minutes of crazy.

"Y/N!"

Oh, the voice that came from her left was melodic, sounded of angels singing, of her walking miracle saving her from the political shitshow, and she turned with a smile. Walking toward her brightly was Dolley Madison, and her brows shot up as she reached her.

"Hey, Dolley, what's up?"

"Not much." She pulled Y/N for an unexpected hug, grinning as she pulled back to look at her from arm's length. Her hands still rested on Y/N's shoulders. "Fancy meeting you here, though. What are the odds?"

"Oh, so low. Especially considering my job and your marriage, who knew we'd both end up at Jefferson's town hall?" Her tone was playful as Dolley rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't gimme that. I'm just glad to see you."

Y/N laughed as Dolley finally pulled back, settling beside her. "Jesus; tell me about it. D'you know how many crazy voters I've had to pretend were completely normal in the past few hours. Even just your sanity is a breath of fresh air."

"Yeah, the American voter." Her smile was amused as she eyed the crowd. "Really gives you hope for the future of our country, hm?"

"Of course." Y/N laughed, tucking a hair behind her ears. "Comforting to know these are the people who determine our president for the next four years."

"I'm sure." Dolley glanced back up toward where Jefferson stood, James apparently now beside him making his way through the crowd. "Though, I do find a bit of comfort in the idea of Thomas being the one behind the wheel for the next four years."

"That makes one of us." Though Y/N's tone was joking, her words were dead serious, and transparently so. Dolley grinned as she caught her eye.

"Yeah?"

"I might be just a little bit biased." Y/N shrugged. "To be fair, I've spent the past four months digging up all the dirt there is on him, and reviving any and all skeletons in his many, many closets."

"Yeah, I gotcha. I keep up with your articles." Dolley winked, and Y/N could feel herself flush. The fact that Dolley Madison actively kept tabs on her writing felt like quite the honor. "Didn't think any of it was all that damning, though, to be honest."

"No, I agree with you." Y/N nodded reasonably, eyes fixed on Jefferson as he moved fluidly through the room, weaving between people and families, shaking hands, taking selfies. "And I'm glad it comes off that way, too. I try to keep the tone of my writing neutral, but as a journalist, I have to look at everything with a critical eye, y'know?"

"I've gotcha. I may be biased too, considering my husband is probably gonna be his running mate." Dolley grinned as she caught James's eye and waved to him. He was at the opposite end of the room, but he began walking toward them almost immediately.

"James may be what saves the ticket in my eyes, to be honest." Y/N returned the smile as he neared them, and turned to Dolley. "If not, though, is it too late to take you up on covering my therapy costs?"

She laughed, squeezing Y/N's forearm lightly. "I'll just have to hope James helps keep your sanity these next few months."

"What's that about Y/N's sanity?" James furrowed his brow as he reached them, a small smile resting on his lips, but his gaze full of concern.

The two women shared an entertained look before Y/N turned to James. "Just that when I lose it, the two of you had better find me a comfy asylum."

James's visible confusion deepened as Dolley's grin grew. "Don't worry about it, love. We were just discussing Y/N's writing about the campaign."

"Ah, so that's why you're losing your sanity?" He raised an eyebrow, and Y/N nodded in confirmation. "Then no worries, we'll find you the best therapist money can buy."

She let out a soft 'aw,' placing her hand over her heart. "When you do, I'll be sure to write an exposé on the generosity of the Madisons. You'd better be honored when I cross party lines for you two."

James grinned. "Abandoning partisanship for the Jefferson campaign? Never thought I'd see the day."

"You won't. It'll all be for Dolley." Y/N shot her a wink. "I'll throw all my weight behind Jefferson when Hell freezes over."

"You do so much for me," Dolley sighed dramatically, wiping away an imaginary tear as she squeezed Y/N's hand, pretending to be moved by her words. Meanwhile, James folded his arms, wearing a small smile.

"He'll see to it that that's sooner than you think."

________________

SHE ABANDONED JEFFERSON'S rally not long after, having no desire to breathe any more air that reeked so heavily of contrived charisma and shitty cologne, but having all the desire in the world to snuggle into her warm pajamas and pop open a bottle of hotel wine. After all, the debates didn't start for nearly 24 more hours.

She was about to pick up her nap from earlier right where it'd left off, but had first to piece together what she'd taken away from the rally and forward it over to Ashley. Not to mention the unfortunately necessary hours of preparation between her and the debates. She couldn't mess up her first run on TV. It was two hours and half a bottle of wine later that she sent off the culmination of her notes and recordings from the afternoon, and by the time Ashley emailed her back, it was nearly eight PM. After that, she resolved to spend no more than two hours writing and revising her questions for the following evening.

She groaned at the fourth email from Ashley -- she had too much criticism, but not nearly enough suggestion. If all my ideas are bad, Y/N thought, frustrated, why don't you have any better ones? After shooting her a response, she decided to take a well-deserved break.

At this point in the night, shame was a non-factor in her decisions, and she was far beyond caring if anyone down in the lobby was going to judge her tank top or bunny slippers. She just wanted whatever candy went best with shitty, five-dollar, red wine, and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos, and she knew the hotel's food kiosk was the most convenient place to find both.

"Wait, hold the elevator!" She only really kicked into gear when turned the corner on her floor to see the elevator's doors about to close, and she really didn't have the patience left to wait for the next one down, let alone actually take the stairs. To her delight, a hand darted out against the door at her words, and they bounced back open. She breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached them, ready to sing her mystery savior's praises -- that is, until she saw who was standing in the back of the elevator, and her eyes widened; she'd be lying if she said she didn't seriously consider braving five flights of stairs just to reach the ground floor undisturbed.

"Oh, I-- Y/N..." Jefferson's voice trailed off, surprised, as she stepped hesitantly into the elevator, keeping her distance from him even in the small space. "Hey."

"Secretary Jefferson." She only acknowledged him, not meeting his eyes as the elevator doors finally closed. He glanced over at her with an eyebrow raised at that, though, almost surprised that 'Thomas' had somehow reverted to 'Secretary Jefferson' in just the past few weeks, but he couldn't pretend he didn't know why -- that was why he didn't say a word about it, especially since they both knew, and both wanted to deny, that they couldn't help but still think about the last time they'd met. The tension was heavy in the growing silence.

She could feel his gaze over her shoulder, could see him out of the corner of her eye, but she was determined not to catch his eye, looking instead firmly down to her phone screen, responding to Angelica and Alex's texts from earlier in the day (keeping her brightness down, though, so he couldn't see those, either). She swallowed thickly as he looked back up, biting her lip as she glanced over at him. She looked back down for a moment, anxious in the deafening silence, eyes unfocused but toward her phone screen, but she figured she was safe to sneak another glance at him -- apparently, he'd made the same calculation.

She froze as their eyes met, breath catching in the back of her throat and heat rushing to her face, and he only smiled, waiting to see if she would make the next move. She was determined to ignore him, but it appeared as though she'd been caught. He held her gaze a moment as the elevator descended; it appeared she wouldn't be the first to speak.

She bit her lip, looking up at him as his eyes traveled down her form, grin widening as he caught sight of her pajama pants and slippers, and he raised a teasing brow. "Harry Potter? Really?"

She glanced self-consciously down at her Deathly Hallows pants, her face growing hotter by the second, and she looked back up at him weakly. "They're good books, okay?" she said, tone defensive as she folded her arms, fixed her gaze back on the elevator doors before them, and he chuckled.

"You won't hear me arguin' with that." He had to choke back another laugh as she rolled her eyes, letting out a nearly-inaudible huff. "Aw, c'mon, I'm just teasin'."

She scowled as she looked up at him, feeling more-than-flustered and far from entertained. "What do you want from me, Jefferson?"

He quirked up a brow at her. "Really?" He paused, seemingly in disbelief, and she shook her head blankly at him, waiting for him to continue. "We just never gonna talk about that state dinner, then?"

Her face was now burning; she couldn't meet his eye. He'd finally pointed out the elephant in the room, and for once in her career, it didn't happen to be the one that belonged to the GOP. Just the one that had decided to sit directly on her ego and crush her spirit. "I certainly wasn't planning on bringing it up."

He sighed. "C'mon, Y/N." She didn't look up. "Alright, fine, pretend it didn't happen. But I just wanted to say that--"

That was the exact moment the elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor, catching both of their attention immediately. He cut himself off as the doors began to open. As they caught sight of the numerous people standing before them in the lobby, waiting to get onto the elevator, he glanced back down at her to find her looking up at him, biting her lip but her expression unreadable.

"Some other time, Secretary Jefferson."

She exited the elevator without another word, and he did the same, although slow to follow suit. He didn't continue after her; he couldn't see the point. There was no way he'd be able to have that conversation with her in a lobby full of politicians, but his stare was still attached to her as she left. He really didn't know what to make of her -- but he intended to figure it out.

________________

THE NEXT EVENING was the first night of the debates. To be quite candid, to Y/N, nearly the entire night was a blur. She'd gotten ready with a series of emails to her boss and with Angelica on Facetime, helping her strike the perfect balance of femininity and professionalism (it'd proved to be a tough line to walk), and arrived at the venue hours early as per her official instruction. She steeled herself for the ordeal, determined to ignore any lingering tension between her and Jefferson. She had a job to do there, and she intended to do it right. After the debate, once she began to remove her microphone and slowly make her way out, she avoided him at all costs -- even if the confrontation was inevitable, with the unfortunately large overlap between their lives, it was neither the time nor the place, and she intended to put it off as long as possible.

Chatter filled the room behind her. Everyone who had shown up to watch the debates live was now slowly filing out, apart from groups here and there of stragglers or of people who wanted to approach the candidates afterward. She handed her microphone off to a tech intern with a warm smile and a 'thank you,' collecting her notes before she went backstage to retrieve her coat. (Michigan winters, she'd learned, were brutal.)

She shuffled everything back into her folder, glancing at the crowd behind her, when she caught sight of a familiar face. She furrowed her brow and squinted. She paused, considering whether to go down to greet him -- she hardly knew him, after all -- but he beat her to the punch. He waved, beckoned her over when he caught her eye, and warily, she obliged.

"Hey, it's Lafayette, right? We met at the state dinner; I'm Alex's friend, Y/N."

He grinned as she reached him, clutching her papers to her chest and extending a hand in greeting, which he took without hesitation. "Oui, I remember. It is good to see you, Y/N, although Alexander neglected to mention zat you would be moderating ze debates."

"Oh, what, didn't he tell you how important I am?" She shrugged, shaking her head with a grin as though it was obvious. "Next I'm coming for Anderson Cooper's job, just you wait."

He laughed, folding his arms as he glanced up toward the stage. "I do not doubt it for even a moment. Are you moderating again tomorrow night?"

She nodded. "Mhm. You coming tomorrow night?"

"Oui. I came all ze way to Michigan for zis; it would be a shame if I was only 'ere for one night, hm?" He raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged, nodded. He flashed her a sly grin. "Besides, since I now know zat you are going to be 'ere tomorrow, zat gives me all ze more reason to show up."

Her breath hitched a moment, before she laughed nervously, running a hand through her hair. "Ah, yes, can't miss my political commentary and passive aggression for two hours onstage. Isn't that your idea of a perfect Thursday night?"

"More or less." His smile was sharp, his gaze all but wolfish for a moment, and a chill ran down her spine before his expression softened. "Would it be against your ethics as a journalist to tell me which of ze candidates you are supporting?"

Y/N shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not a fan of any of them at the moment, but we'll see how it shakes out after the second night of debates. After all, the candidates are only human, so I've gotta find a way to look past the skeletons in their closets."

Lafayette raised a wary eyebrow, looking concerned. "Ze 'skeletons in their closets'?" he repeated, and she cracked a grin.

"Yeah, like the bad things from their past?"

He stared at her, expression deadpan. "I am from France. You will 'ave to forgive me zat we do not use murder as an idiom for all wrongdoings."

She couldn't help her laugh at that, covering her mouth with her free hand. "Cut me some slack; I've grown up with it."

He raised his eyebrows. "With murder?"

"No! With the English language!" she defended, laughing, and he couldn't stifle his grin any longer.

"My apologies, chérie. I could not 'elp myself." He held up his hands in his defense, and she rolled her eyes. "Is it safe to assume you are not voting for any of ze candidates zat 'ave murdered anyone?"

She shook her head, amused. "Yeah, that's a fair guess."

"I am glad to 'ear it." He paused a moment, grinning as he nodded to someone behind her, and she raised a brow. She glanced over her shoulder to see none other than Thomas Jefferson approaching, headed down the same stairs she'd taken to reach Lafayette several minutes before, and she groaned internally. Just her luck. Would it be rude to immediately run the moment he reached where she was standing? "Thomas! 'Ow 'ave you been?" Lafayette immediately pulled him into a hug as he reached the pair of them, greeting him like an old friend, and Jefferson pulled back with a small smile of his own.

"Gotta say, I've been worse," he said, "Especially when you weren't here. Spendin' all that time over in France, abandonin' us." He put a hand on his heart, shaking his head with a playfully mournful frown, and Lafayette rolled his eyes.

"Oui, I am sure I was sorely missed." He huffed, shaking his head, and Jefferson cracked a grin. "I left you with an open invitation to come and visit me whenever you pleased, and you never came. I did not feel particularly missed, Monsieur Jefferson."

"Ah, I'll find a way to make it up to you." He shot Lafayette a wink, and in the midst of the interaction, Y/N considered just silently slipping away. They seemed to have forgotten she was there, and if there was ever a time to escape, it was right then. She hesitated. "Though, you never came to visit me back in D.C., either," Jefferson pointed out to his friend, who scoffed, "So who's really to blame?"

"I resent ze accusation, Thomas. I was busy. I am a very important person with very important things to do, and I simply could not find ze time. I tried to visit you, but alas, ze people of France must come first." He sighed dramatically, his entire proclamation made in jest. Jefferson rolled his eyes.

"You implyin' I'm not doin' anything down in D.C.? That hurts, Laf, really."

Lafayette grinned. "Of course not."

It was then that Y/N began to back away from the pair, seemingly forgotten in their enthusiastic greeting, and she figured that she'd be able to escape without a problem. Just after she began to turn, though, Lafayette spoke.

"Ah, Thomas, you know Y/N, hm?" She froze at that. Her retreat no longer seemed as secure as it had previously. His tone was jovial as he motioned to her, and she reluctantly turned back around to face them. "Obviously, from zis," --He motioned to the stage, and Y/N met Jefferson's eyes warily-- "but ze two of you met at ze state dinner, non? With Alex?"

Jefferson seemed to be taking his cues from Y/N at that point, watching her with raised brows as she sighed, plastering on a smile as she turned to Lafayette. "Yeah. Yeah, we've met."

What followed that was a momentary silence. Lafayette had obviously detected rigidity of the interaction, but he hadn't quite figured out what to do with it, and Y/N wasn't at all inclined to force the conversation to happen. She had no interest in making small talk with Jefferson. Lafayette cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at Jefferson, who sighed.

"Yeah, a couple of times now," Jefferson added tiredly. "State dinner wasn't the first."

"Oui? When else?"

Y/N and Jefferson shared a tired glance. The whole interaction was painfully out of character for both of them, their actions and words forced, and while neither of them seemed up to carrying the conversation, it certainly seemed Lafayette was doing his best.

"Just, through work, Lafayette. Nothing all that exciting. I've been covering his campaign for a while now, so by the state dinner, we'd already met once or twice," Y/N explained, offering Lafayette a weak smile. "Y'know, exciting stuff."

"Actually, about the state dinner." Both Y/N and Lafayette were surprised when Jefferson spoke up once again, instead of just letting the conversation entirely drop. She was concerned as to where this was going. "I just," he paused, meeting her eyes, "wanted to apologize, if I ever made you uncomf--"

"Don't worry about it, Secretary Jefferson," Y/N cut him off abruptly with a sigh before plastering on an understanding (obviously forced) smile. He raised his eyebrows. "It's fine; it was a mistake. And this really isn't the time or the place. We can... talk about this later." She huffed, clutching her papers even more tightly against her chest. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't hide how flustered she was.

He paused, searching her expression, clearly not quite believing her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled stiffly.

"Alright," he sighed. He made pointed eye contact with her, squaring his shoulders. His gaze was determined if not frustrated. "We will talk about this some other time. See you around, Lafayette, Y/N." He nodded to both of them, holding Y/N's gaze for just a moment too long, his expression steely. She could feel her heartbeat in her head; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and he turned and left. Lafayette and Y/N both stayed there a moment longer, frozen to the spot and stunned for entirely different reasons.

There was a skip, before Lafayette broke the silence.

"What happened at ze state dinner?" Lafayette asked, turning to her, but she didn't even hear him. She was still fixated on Jefferson's parting words. Her heart was in her throat as she watched him retreat. Jesus, fuck.

We will talk about this.

___________________

Twitter

@gilafayette started following you.

Y/N raised an eyebrow from where she sat on her hotel bed. The debates were only a few hours away.

@Y/N_L/N: As the second night of Republican primary debates nears, keep up with the biggest issues and the who's-who of the candidates with the Washington Post's recent article about night 1 of the debates. Join us tonight on the official live stream, co-sponsored alongside NBC, and hear it all firsthand from the candidates themselves.

Quoted article: https://www.washingtonpost.com/fakelink/clowns

@BenArnold started following you.

Replying to @Y/N_L/N: @BenArnold: or you could just read my recap, but to each their own ig

She rolled her eyes at the tweet, though smiling to herself. She considered replying to it, but then thought better of it -- his tweet was so clearly in jest, and it was too easy to misinterpret tones over the internet. She opted to like the tweet.

@JamesMdson retweeted your recent tweet.

New message from @A_Hamilton:

@A_Hamilton: wanna grill jefferson about our war debts with france tn???

@A_Hamilton: i could even write u the questions

@A_Hamilton: wait omg open it up to audience questions and claim it's from someone else if u don't wanna attribute it to urself

@A_Hamilton: Suzie from Mississippi asked: why the fuck would you decide not to engage in France's war as secretary of state, not even try to assist them when we HAD the funds and they'd just helped us in our war, and then oppose an improved centralized banking system so that we could unilaterally balance the national budget, asshole?

@Y/N_L/N: have u been drinking again

@A_Hamilton: ok ok hear me out. like he wouldn't suspect a thing!!!! he doesn't even know we're friends why would it b me

@A_Hamilton: wait shit we saw him at the state dinner

@A_Hamilton: fuck nvm just pin the question on lafayette as a bitter french diplomat

@Y/N_L/N: alex.

@Y/N_L/N: i swear to god, you are the ONLY voter THAT invested in our debt to france

@Y/N_L/N: isnt it just like a trade deficit, anyway??

@A_Hamilton: YES THATS THE PROBLEM

@A_Hamilton: he can't even deal w our relations with one of our oldest allies, he was a shitty secretary of state

@Y/N_L/N: clean up the language and ill lead the conversation there

@Y/N_L/N: it's not a completely shit idea

@A_Hamilton: ur the only reporter that matters ily

✅ Read, 5:27 PM.

@gilafayette wants to send you a message. Accept?

@gilafayette: what happened at the state dinner between you and thomas

@gilafayette: i tried to ask him but he is very evasive

@gilafayette: i am concerned about him since then

Y/N's eyes widened as she accepted the message. She'd expected it to just be dropped, for Lafayette to entirely let it go, as it truly wasn't his problem, but there she was. She raised a brow at the last message, though.

Messages to @gilafayette:

@Y/N_L/N: it was nothing important, but why are you concerned about him??

@gilafayette: he has been acting strange since we saw you

@gilafayette: he and i went for coffee and he was preoccupied for the whole time

@gilafayette: and when i tried to ask him he was being very evasive

@Y/N_L/N: it really wasn't anything monumental. hes probably preoccupied w/ the debates, don't read into it

@Y/N_L/N: have u tried just asking him what's on his mind?

@gilafayette: brb

She rolled her eyes at the message. Of course he hadn't even thought to consider the obvious solution: communication. There seemed to be a disconnect between Lafayette and the obvious, though..

Messages to @gilafayette:

@gilafayette: he says he is fine and not to worry

@gilafayette: but i worry

@Y/N_L/N: did he say what was on his mind

@gilafayette: no

@gilafayette: brb i will tell him you asked. perhaps he only does not want to talk to me.

Her pulse skipped as she read the message; her eyes widened. Shit.

@Y/N_L/N: no lafayette pls don't say that

@Y/N_L/N: i didn't ask. i just wanted to give you a better idea for what to ask.

@gilafayette: yes you told me to ask

@gilafayette: exactly

@gilafayette: what is the difference?

She let out a groan, burying her face in her hands. This whole interaction felt so middle-school to her. Y/N said to ask Lafayette to ask Thomas if he's still thinking about her!

@Y/N_L/N: please lafayette just keep me out of this

@Y/N_L/N: don't wanna get involved in ur relationship with him. if i wanted to ask him something id do it on my own time

@gilafayette: wait he has just responded

@Y/N_L/N: so you still sent the message???

@gilafayette: it was too late, i am sorry!

@Y/N_L/N: what did he say??

@gilafayette: "if she wants to know, tell her to ask me herself"

@Y/N_L/N: lafayette i stg

@Y/N_L/N: please tell him this was just a misunderstanding and it wasn't MY question!!

✅ Read, 5:49 PM.

She groaned, letting herself fall back onto her bed as she saw the read receipt. Just her luck.

@Thomas_Jefferson wants to send you a message. Accept?

Oh, fuck. She didn't want to open the message, but at the same time, she was desperate to see what he had sent. In the midst of her internal struggle, it occurred briefly to her that if she didn't just open the message, he'd find some way to confront her about it in person that night, and -- to her dismay -- her mind was made up.

Messages to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Thomas_Jefferson: did you really just avoid every time i tried to talk to you abt that night and then ask lafayette what was on my mind???

@Thomas_Jefferson: im going to come talk to you after the debate tonight. don't leave the building.

✅ Read, 5:56 PM.

________________

WITH JEFFERSON'S WORDS still in mind, Y/N fled the second night of debates the moment she could cut loose, calling an Uber before they even gave her the go-ahead to leave, not having a second to waste.

She caught his eye on the way out, him surrounded by three campaign staffers and James Madison, and he raised an eyebrow at her. The intimation was obvious: wait up for him.

She broke the eye contact immediately, shaking her head lightly. She had a blue Toyota Camry and a driver named Mandy to find out on the snow-coated street, and she was off long before he had even a chance to try to follow her.

She'd assumed the ordeal was over. She thought it was over with, that she'd somehow managed to escape scot-free, and that she'd managed to avoid Jefferson privately confronting her once and for all.

Boy, was she wrong.

She spent her final evening in the hotel carefree, drafting the second night's article as Lizzo played in the background. She'd packed most of her things, aside from the previous night's bottle of wine and the second pack of Flaming Hot Cheetos she'd bought with her future self in mind (she was patting herself on the back for that one, of course).

She strolled over to the business office on her floor with a pen in her mouth, still humming along to her long-abandoned music, as Ashley had requested that she fax over her handwritten notes from both nights of debates -- she'd called down to the front desk to ask first if they had a fax machine. She hadn't intended to get out of bed if she didn't have to.

Balancing her notes across the keyboard of her laptop in one arm, she opened the door to the office, eyes still fixated on the screen of her computer as she pushed the door with her shoulder. When she looked up, she was met with more than just a printer and a fax machine.

His nose was no longer buried in the book he held on his lap, seemingly distracted by the sound of the door opening, and he had his sweatpant-clad legs propped up on the desk before him, his glasses discarded on the table next to him. She froze when their eyes met.

"Y/N," Jefferson said, looking as stunned as she felt. She blinked. A beat passed. She almost responded, before she remembered the pen she still held in her mouth, continuing into the room and letting the door click shut behind her so that she could put her papers down. "Shit, uh... I can leave if you need the room, or--"

"No, no, you're fine." She finally took the pen out from between her teeth, withdrawing her papers from her laptop, closing it atop the desk. "But I can, ah, come back, if--"

"No, 'course not." He gave her a soft grin, fiddling with the page of his book. "Seems like you're the only one who actually needs the room, anyway."

She returned his smile, though hesitantly, feeling awkward to be alone with him in the small space. "Thanks."

She began shuffling her papers into the fax machine one by one, and the silence grew heavy. She tried not to feel the need to fill it. Yet--

"What brought you here, anyway?" She glanced back at him over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised and found his gaze still trained on her. She shifted her weight, and he chuckled.

"Just tryin' to escape."

She furrowed her brow, not sure if she understood, and another moment passed as she fed her last paper into the fax machine. Now she just had to play the waiting game (which was unfortunately long, considering the number of papers Ashley demanded). "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, lifting his feet off the desk's edge as he leaned forward to rest his forearms atop his legs. "Just needed a moment to myself. I'm sharin' my room here with James, and since I started runnin' for president it hasn't been easy to find some time alone."

She nodded, glancing down at the book in his hand, and grinned. "And you're spending that time reading?"

"You got any better ideas for me?" He raised a playful eyebrow when she turned to lean against where the wraparound desk met the back of the incredibly small room. She only shrugged.

"Could spend this time cleaning up your entire political platform," she suggested, and he laughed.

"Now you're just baitin' me."

"Never!"

He rolled his eyes as he turned the office chair to face her. "Now tell me why I don't believe you."

"Beats me." She plastered on an innocent smile, ultimately pursing her lips, though, to stifle her grin.

"Mhm." He shook his head in amusement, wide grin adorning his lips as he looked down once again, thumbing the nearest page of his book. Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Whatcha reading?"

"Nietzsche." He held up the book, showing her the name scrawled across the cover and the spine.

"Zarathustra? Really?" She eyed the book with a wary gaze, and his eyebrows shot toward his hairline, amused.

"Don't tell me you've read it?"

"It seems we have annoyingly similar taste in literature, Secretary Jefferson." She grinned. "Can I get past you to the printer real quick?"

"Hm? Oh, 'course." He glanced over his shoulder, standing and taking a step over immediately as he realized the chair was situated directly in front of where she needed to be. She thanked him softly as she moved past him to collect her newly-inked papers. There was a skip; he hesitated.  "So it's back to Secretary Jefferson now, huh?"

She looked over to where he stood beside her, eyebrows raised and heat creeping up the back of her neck. The look in his eyes was expectant, but not demanding. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said, wearing a small, almost comforting smile, and she couldn't help but return it, before he added with a grin. "Thomas is better, though."

Despite the amusement in his eyes and the mischief dancing in his smile, Y/N let out a sigh as she pushed herself onto the counter beside the fax machine. "I'm sorry, I really just--"

"I know. 'M sorry. We don't have to get into it, if you don't wanna."

She paused as she met his eyes. The understanding tone he was taking now felt like a far cry from how he'd been earlier in the day, but sitting alone with him in that hotel business office after hours, both of them out of their suits and into their sleepwear, joking about his reading material, she felt like she was just then seeing him clearly. "I..." She gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

"You never responded to my message on Twitter, though," he continued, a grin once again breaking across his face, and she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "C'mon, don't pretend, I saw that you read it."

"Lafayette was out of line!" she defended, "God, he was asking for advice on what he should say to you because he was worried, and somehow I became his advisor, and I literally just told him to ask you what was wrong. I wasn't trying to pry after avoiding you the past few days."

"I kinda figured, after Laf's next couple messages. Basically told me you were chewin' him out for askin' that," he laughed, but raised an eyebrow as he met her eyes. "But you admit you were avoidin' me, though, huh?"

"I--" She paused, mouth open to respond, and eyebrows raised, but she didn't know how to respond. The question caught her entirely by surprise. "I guess so, yeah."

Her face burned as he chuckled lightly, and she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She bit her lip, folded her arms across her chest. "Don't act like it's some big confession, now; it was kinda obvious. You said all of three words to me in the elevator, shut me down when you were talkin' to Lafayette, and then today, at the debate?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly enjoying watching her squirm. She didn't look up at him. "Now, that was the most obvious of all. You read my message, made direct eye contact with me, and then were still the first one outta the building. You aren't subtle, sweetheart."

She sighed, crossed her ankles where she sat on the counter, and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I guess that's fair," she sighed, finally looking up at him, and he didn't say a word, waiting for her to continue. He cocked an expectant eyebrow. "Just, after the state dinner, and what happened -- or really, what almost happened," she sighed, and the corners of his lips quirked up. "I really didn't wanna talk to you, or know how to, and I'm sorry, I just-- What would I have said? What was I supposed to say? 'So, I know I, like, almost let you kiss me three weeks ago, but now I'm gonna grill you about fiscal policy on national television! Isn't that fun?'" She plastered on an exaggerated smile, mocking the hypothetical, and he laughed.

"That would've been a good start." She rolled her eyes, bit her lips, and his smile softened. "Could've at least let me talk to you, though."

She sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I should've, but I think I just scared myself into thinking talking to you meant my immediate demise."

"Now, that offends me a little," he teased, "I'm nothin' if not approachable, and I don't like hearin' you suggest otherwise."

She pursed her lips as she met his eyes. "Oh, of course. The Republican presidential frontrunner, who's always surrounded by people much more important than me, and is never seen in public without an entourage. The easiest to talk to." He didn't comment on the thinly veiled confession of insecurity contained in her dry sarcasm, but instead raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't I?" His tone, his wide grin both seemed to suggest that he was joking, but something in how he looked at Y/N made her breath catch.

"Yeah," she said, softly, "I guess you are." She swallowed, looking down at her feet, and the only sound reverberating through the little room was the cranking of the aging fax machine that still held her notes. The hush that fell over them only stretched on.

"Can I just--"

"I wanted to--"

They both looked up at once, though, voices overlapping as they chose the same moment to break the silence, and Thomas grinned. Y/N let out a light laugh. "You can go first."

"Yeah?" he asked, hesitant. She nodded, shooting him a wink.

"The floor is yours."

"Much appreciated." They shared an anticipatory glance, the tension in the room magnified by the close proximity the little space had pushed them into. They weren't even feet apart. "Anyway, I just, at least, wanna apologize."

Y/N quirked up an eyebrow. "What for?"

"The state dinner." She sighed heavily, raking a hand through her hair, and he continued, "C'mon, don't pretend there's nothin' to talk about there. I can't let myself ignore it, so I'm sorry." She bit her lip, trying to keep herself from squirming under his gaze, afraid to break the eye contact as he searched her expression. "Seemed like I scared you that night, and I wanna make sure I didn't make you feel unsafe, or uncomfortable, or... Just felt like I put you in a bad position, or made you feel like you couldn't leave because of me, since I was still the Secretary of State and all, and..." He trailed off as he saw Y/N raise an amused eyebrow, failing to stifle a grin at his words, and hardly stifling a laugh. He huffed, but there was no real frustration behind his smile. "Gimme a break, it's happened!"

"What, you've cornered other hot reporters in your office and leveraged your title against them?" she teased, and he rolled his eyes, cracking a grin.

"I usually go for hot Congresswomen, but none were around, so I figured you'd have to do."

"You've tried to stick it on Nancy Pelosi?" she asked in mock disbelief, and he laughed, carding a hand through his hair, "Can I quote you on that?"

"May wanna keep it off the record, just this once." He winked, and she couldn't help her light huff, playful disappointment mingling with amusement. He pursed his lips. "But seriously, Y/N, hope I didn't scare you."

"No sweat, Thomas, I don't scare easy." She gave him a soft smile, and he raised a brow, surprised to hear her using his first name again, but he held his tongue. She swallowed thickly, realizing it at the same time. "I'm not about to become your Monica Lewinsky, if that's what you're worried about -- you didn't put me in any position I didn't wanna be in." Her last few words had even her taking pause, surprised at having said them aloud. It felt more like a confession than a reassurance, and with that, Thomas's brows shot toward his hairline, and a small smirk rested on his lips. Y/N could feel her heart in her throat as she waited for him to respond.

"'I didn't put you in any position you didn't wanna be in,' huh?" he repeated slowly, his smug smile growing as her eyes slowly began to widen; she didn't like watching him take pleasure in this.

"I--" She cut herself off as he took a step toward her, pushing herself further back where she sat on the edge of the desk. "Yeah," she breathed, worried that her heart would beat out of her chest if she said much more.

"So--" One of his hands landed beside her on the desk as his stare became increasingly self-contented, "What if you ended up in that position again, hm?" His other large hand came to rest on her right knee; he was now hovering just inches above her, and her pulse threatened to stop altogether as she looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Thomas," she said softly, biting her lip, and she couldn't help but notice him track the movement, his gaze falling momentarily to her mouth. His hand lifted from her knee to her jaw, brushing a hair away from her face before running his thumb along her cheekbone, cupping her cheek. "What are you doing?" she asked, breathlessly.

"This time, is it a position you don't wanna be in?" he asked, the hand that previously sat on the desk now meeting her waist, pulling her closer to him. Something about his smile told her that he was confident in what her answer would be. He raised an eyebrow.

"What..." Her voice faltered as he pulled her into him, her legs now straddling his waist from atop the desk, and she prayed he didn't catch it when her gaze fell to his lips, if only for a moment. (The way he grinned told her he'd definitely caught it.) He stilled millimeters away from her lips, and the movement wasn't even conscious as her arms wrapped around his neck. "Thomas."

He smiled, his nose brushing against hers, and he couldn't help that his grin grew when she shivered at the contact. "Y/N," he whispered, too close even to make out her full face, but he could see every detail of her shining eyes clearly, could trace every ridge of her lips.

She was terrified. Every nerve in her body seemed to be standing on end, and she could feel everything. Even the slightest movements made her pulse jump -- the pads of his fingers digging into her waist, his breath as it fluttered across her cheek, him pulling her impossibly closer, yet still, not quite close enough. She swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. "Kiss me."

He obliged her immediately, his hand gripping her jaw as his lips moved against hers, and she reacted in the same moment. One of her hands weaved itself into his hair, while the other sank into the back of his old college t-shirt. His tongue pushed insistently past her lips, and she arched against him in an effort to pull him ever closer, pushing herself toward the edge of the desk. His hand slid down to hook itself under her thigh, and his grip tightened on her leg as she sighed against him. He nipped at her bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth, but nearly lost it when he yanked at her hair, and she let out a soft, needy whine against his mouth -- the kiss immediately became harsher, faster; in seconds it was all teeth and tongue. Y/N didn't know when his lips had begun to trail down her neck, didn't realize his hands began to tug at her shirt until she felt his fingers brush against her stomach, and she shuddered. She gasped as he scraped his teeth over the base of her neck, sucking a hickey into the skin, and she rolled her hips involuntarily up against his. He groaned against her.

"Fuck," she whispered as his hands finally breached the hem of her shirt, pressing into the bare skin of her waist, and she dragged her nails down across his back, feeling his muscles rippling in his shoulders as he pulled her harshly against himself.

"Shit, sweetheart." She yanked at his hair, began kissing along his jawline, grinding her hips persistently up against his. "Y/N," he groaned, his nails beginning to dig directly into her hips. Her movements faltered a moment. She swallowed.

It must have been then that she came to her senses. She couldn't have placed exactly when, or why she broke it off, but it must have been when she heard her name out of his mouth, against her skin, when she realized exactly where she was. She pulled back from him, gasping for air, her hands against his chest, and he raised his eyebrows.

"What...?" he breathed, equally winded, "What's wrong? Did I do somethin'?"

Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, shaking her head slowly, but her expression was despairing, the gravity of the situation just then beginning to sink in.

"I..." She trailed off, letting out a huff as she ran a hand through her hair, "No, no, it... it's not you, but..." She pulled further back, pushing him gently away as she broke out of his grasp. The look in his eyes was worried, but more so disappointed. "We can't do this, Thomas. Fuck, this was a mistake. What were we thinking? I just--"

She groaned softly, burying her face into her hands before hopping off of the desk, scrambling to collect her laptop and her papers. His eyes widened as she began to rush to leave the room.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart!" He grabbed ahold of her arm as she began to turn away, and she yanked it from his fingers. "Y/N, c'mon, wait a minute."

"This can't happen! Don't you get it?" she said. "This was so fucking stupid. I'm a political journalist, Thomas, and you're running for President, for God's sake! Can you imagine what would happen if we hooked up? If that somehow leaked?"

"Wait, be reasonable--"

"I'd become the next fucking Monica Lewinsky, and there goes your campaign, and there goes my career. Next I get accused of biased reporting, and you get accused of foul play with the media." She shook her head, shuffling her papers together as she turned to leave. "I'm sorry. I... I'm so sorry, this was such a mistake."

"Y/N." His voice was steady, but firm. "Listen to me: no one's losin' their career, no one's life is shatterin' because of this. Relax, darlin'. Leave if you want to, but relax. I'm not gonna try to make you stay."

She hesitated as he rested his hands on her biceps, as they ghosted down her arms. He smiled. "Don't get me wrong, you're more than welcome to stay, but I won't hold it against you if you don't."

"I can't do this, Thomas," she breathed, and he chuckled. Despite his small smile, and despite what genuinely were his best efforts, disappointment clouded his gaze, and he did a poor job of hiding it.

"Okay. Then go." His voice was soft, gentle. "If you ever change your mind, though, just know that I'm the only one with access to my Twitter messages. You know how to reach me if you want to." He grinned as he said that, and Y/N’s eyes widened. Did he just offer himself up as a booty call?

The thought had her breath hitching in the back of her throat. The look in his eyes told her that he was being perfectly sincere.

"I'm sorry,” she finally said, voice only just above a whisper, and he nodded.

"Don't worry about it.” There was a skip. “I'll see you soon, Y/N.”

“Bye, Thomas.” She held his gaze a moment longer, struggling to bring herself to leave, but knowing she couldn’t stay. He sent her a wink, and she finally began to move.

She was out the door without another word, her breathing shaky as she rushed back to her hotel room. She was desperate to immediately open her phone, to text Angelica or Alex, but shit, if that wouldn't ruin her life. Angelica would find some way to convince her to quit her job, or somehow weasel her way out of her assignment on the 2020 election, and Alex would be worse yet -- he'd take it straight back to Thomas and confront him.

She groaned into her hands as she walked into her bathroom. A cold, cleansing shower was what she needed at that moment. The first thing she saw as she walked into the bathroom, though, was a deep purple hickey, at the base of her neck; she'd be covering that up for weeks, she thought as she drew closer to the mirror, running a hand over it as she examined the area. Yet, it also left her with several 'what if's -- what if she hadn't stopped it? What if she were to let this happen? What if, for once in her life, she stopped worrying, let herself live, took a risk?

What if she'd decided to stay?

She met her own eyes in the mirror as she entertained the thought, and she swallowed roughly.

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[trash-writings]

Oh, there he is again, dodging questions with… diversions. Why do you make Chrollo sound so good you’re killing me! I have it bad enough for him already. Seriously, love the way you write, I’ll keep saying it, because shit like ‘slowly digging his finger in’ and ‘he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth’ the mental image! Also, still love how concise yet detailed scenes like this are; like, the balance, I know what is going on, can form a good mental pic, and can follow the movement but its also so nicely paced, doesn’t get slowed down with too many details. You don’t ramble like I do, I suppose lol. Anyway, dick move of Chrollo, leaving the door open (he knew the entire time, I know it); he really likes that possessive control, don’t he? A ‘fundraiser’ full of important people, huh? What are you planning… (What’s in the bag!? WHAT’s IN IT!!!)

In conclusion, I am dead. Loved the new chapter (and the 12 days of ho event, just forgive me for knowing lit nothing of hq).

THIS IS HOW I SEE ALL YALL TODAY LMFAAAOOO

Listen, I don’t make chrollo sound good... he is just perfect and you all have to come to terms with that!!!

I’m planning so much you all have no idea 💗 also I’m glad you liked the self indulgent smut hahaha. It was so fun to write after the break I took from the fic.

Aw I’m glad you’re enjoying the holiday event too!! No worries about HQ! I just got about triple the amount of requests for it than any other fandom so it’s pretty HQ heavy overall. You don’t have to read the things you don’t know ofc!!

[sailorsei]

Vicar Max x Fem!Captain

Word count: 5.1k (I can’t write a short fic to save my life)

Summary: The Vicar has a hard time hiding his feelings until his Captain is terribly injured.

Warnings: 18+, smut!, blood, rapt bites, drinking, etc.

A/N: First Outer Worlds fic! Hope yall enjoy! This is pretty self indulgent jjdksjsdsj. The reader has the background as my outer worlds OC so I guess this could be oc x vicar max too but whatever lol. take place after the empty man quest.

I had never been one to open up. I never had been one to have close friends. Not on earth, even when my “aunt” had sent me to countless therapists and counselors, not when she signed me up from after school activities, and certainly not now, when I’m traipsing around Halcyon as some sort of freelancer. Never in a million of years did I think that I would be in a different solar system, trying to help some scientist guy revive hundreds of thousands of people, while also avoiding being caught by The Board. But here I stood, waiting for my rag tag group of friends to finish up their drinks before heading back to my ship, The Unreliable.

Stellar Bay was nice aside from the constant presence of monstrous creatures outside its walls, among other things. Nyoka and Ellie drunkenly laughed over some joke they had made as they stood from their seats at the bar. They somehow held each other up even though they could barely stand. Parvati, Felix, and Vicar Max were engaged in a discussion about the recent tossball match. I waited for them to exit the bar before following behind. I looked up at the sky as we made our way over to the elevator pad. The skies here were so much more beautiful than on Earth. I may have had a miserable life on Earth, but sometimes, I missed it. Sometimes.

I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed Vicar Max had slowed down just a bit so he could walk beside me. He cleared his throat and I snapped back to reality.

“Something troubling you, Captain? You hardly said a word at the bar.” He said. I looked at him and could see his concern. Was it coming from his Vicar side, or his Max side, you wondered.

“I’m fine, Max. Just… Reminiscing.” I replied, looking forward. We all stepped onto the elevator pad and I pulled the level for it to bring us up to my ship.

“May I ask what about?” He asked. I looked out onto the small town, taking it all in. I considered lying, saying something bland to get him off my back. But he was my friend. He deserved a real answer, as much as my instincts said not to.

 “Just about my life before Halcyon.” I replied, turning to him. Max nodded slowly, considering how to respond. I didn’t talk about my old life much, besides the highlights.

---

Parents were killed in a car accident when I was 5, my mother’s business partner took me in. Raised me, well, my nanny raised me. Woman was a saint. I kept my head down in my school years. Focused on my studies, I didn’t want to get attached to anyone. The thought of losing someone again scared me. When I was 25, my nanny of my childhood had contacted me, saying she couldn’t take it anymore. She revealed that my “aunt”, mom’s business partner, had had my parents killed so she could take control of their business, after a heated disagreement between them. Mom wanted to run a compassionate pharmaceutical business. Aunt Lydia had other ideas. My nanny had then revealed, I was supposed to be in the car.

 So my aunt had to play the good friend role, and take me in. I went to go blow the whistle on what my aunt had done, when I was ambushed and drugged. I woke up in a space suit and in the frozen chamber on The Hope. My aunt standing before me. I weakly tried pushed against the pod door when she simply sighed.

“It’s no use. It’s sealed from the outside.” She said. I tried again when she yelled my name to stop.

“Why?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“I couldn’t have you expose me. Everything I worked for would have been ruined.” She said. She walked up to the pod, inches from the glass.

“I know it won’t mean anything, but I am sorry for what happened to them.” She rested her hand on the glass for just a moment, before retracting it. She backed away and turned to leave when she looked back. “I hope you can make a life for yourself.” She walked away. The next thing I remember is waking up to Phineas reviving me.

 --

 Max decided to not press the issue further, giving me his usual spiel of if I needed to talk, he was there for me. And I silently thanked him with a nod. It’s not that I didn’t think I could trust him with what was going on in my head, I was afraid that if once I opened up, it wouldn’t stop.

 --

 I made sure Nyoka and Ellie were tucked into their cabins, shutting their doors so they could sleep off the impending hang overs without interruption. I grabbed a snack from the kitchen and said goodnight to the rest of the gang and headed to my room. The view of space was something I would never get sick of. I laid on my bed and just lost myself in the stars, and soon, to sleep.

I woke up to hearing ADA saying that there is only one bathroom for the millionth time. I got up from my bed, rubbing my face. I slipped on some fresh clothes and made my way to the kitchen. Everyone was in the kitchen, talking to each other, while SAM cleaned around everyone.

“Mornin’ Captain!” Parvati chirped. She turned her attention back to a little gadget she had been tinkering with. I offered a small wave to my crew as I made my way over to the fridge to get some water. I could feel Max’s eyes on me as I was standing at the counter. My cheeks warmed up from the supposed attention and turned around, nonchalantly, to see if my suspicion was right.

Max averted his eyes quickly and I tilted my head slightly. Did I have something on my back? Was my hair messy? I was going to ask him when Felix called for my attention.

“Hey Boss, so, you’re like 95, right?” Felix asked. I looked at him confused, but did the math quickly in my head.

 “I believe so. Froze at 25, to be awakened 70 years later. Why?” I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms.

“Since you’re the oldest, you make all the rules around here.” Felix said, looking like he just proved some point that you were unaware of.

“I mean, I feel like being Captain trumps that, but I guess?” I replied. Felix sheepishly whispered “Oh yeah…” before turning back to what he was doing. The others giggled at that.

I pushed off from the counter and started to make my way down to ADA when I heard Max call my name. I stopped at the stair I was at and looked up at Max.

“What’s up, Max?” I asked.

“Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were ok, after last night. I, uh,” He paused for a moment, he seemed nervous. I tilted my head, curious.  “I didn’t want to press.” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just in a weird head space last night. Thanks for the concern, but you’re the one that seems to have something on his mind, do YOU need to talk about something, Vicar?” I rose a few steps, crossing my arms. Even though I was just two steps away from him, my head had to tilt back a bit so I could still maintain eye contact. He stood at 6’4”, whereas I was 5’4”, so I had to do this often.

Max stammered a bit before answering.

“Nothing is the matter, Captain, I assure you. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded and walked back towards the kitchen. I stood there, baffled, but turned and walked down to ADA.

“ADA, why are humans so confusing?” I asked, mostly rhetorical, as I typed away on the terminal.

“I’m not sure how to answer that, Captain. Humans are truly an enigma.” ADA replied.

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.” I said, amused. “Anyway, let’s head to Groundbreaker. Gladys has a side job she needs done.”

“Right away, Captain.” ADA replied. The ship roared to life and headed towards Groundbreaker.

 --

 Walking off the ship, Max and Parvati followed close behind.

“Do you mind if I go see Junlei while you talk to Gladys, Cap?” Parvati asked. When I had first gotten to Edgewater, I had quite the crush on Parvati. But she soon showed interest in Junlei and I reeled back my feelings. Didn’t need to complicate the crew.

“Of course, Parv. Just meet us back on the ship in like, 20 minutes.” I replied. Parvati nodded quickly, and took off to see her girlfriend. It was sweet how smitten she was.

Max and I walked in silence towards the Rest-N-Go, when Max cleared his throat.

 “If you don’t mind me asking, Captain, I’m curious. Did you have any paramours when you were on Earth?” He asked. I looked at him, and kind of laughed.

“Are you asking if I was seeing anyone while on Earth? You’re not going to lecture me on pre-marital sex are you?” I asked. Max quickly tried to back pedal on what he asked when I nudged him with my elbow.

“Relax, Preacher Man. I’m teasing.” He rolled his eyes at the nick name. “I had a few people I saw every now and again, but never anything serious. Attachment issues really get in the way of healthy relationship.” Max went to inquire more when we arrived at Gladys’ office.

“Well look who it is, hello sweetheart. Did you get my message?” I nodded and Gladys pulled out a cartridge with information on the job and handed it to me.

“Now you be careful. I would hate to see my favorite freelancer get gobbled up by some rapts.” She cooed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I have quite the crew with me.” I rested my head on Max’s arm as a sign of trust but I felt him tense up. I chose to ignore it and waved goodbye to Gladys.

We stopped by Belle’s Shells for ammo, but the walk there was weird, to say the least. Max refused to make eye contact, and then made up some excuse that he needed to go to the ship immediately and just about sprinted to it. I scowled but turned back to the vendor when Parvati strolled up.

“Why did Max just literally run away from you?” She asked. I turned to her as the vendor grabbed more ammo from the back.

“I have no idea. He’s been acting weird lately. I tried to ask him about it but he clamed up. I thought maybe men would be easier to read in the future, and in a different solar system. But it seems I was wrong.” I said, huffing in frustration. “It’s fine though. He doesn’t have to open up about stuff he doesn’t want to. But I do think it’s funny how he always is asking me how I’M doing but as soon as it’s him, he just shuts up.” I looked over at Parvati to her holding in a snicker. I put my hands on my hips and looked at her with curiosity.

“Oh! Sorry! I don’t mean to laugh, Captain, just... I agree. Men are just that weird here. Yep.” Parvati nervously smiled. I wanted to press her further but the vendor came back with an arm load of ammo. I handed some to Parvati and headed back to the ship.

 --

 Parvati and I put the ammo in the cargo bay and then I headed to ADA, using the navigation terminal to head to Roseway. Gladys wanted me to check out a crashed ship that might have been holding some chemicals that are super hard to come by.

 We landed on the Roseway landing pad and I geared up to check it out solo when Max stopped me.

“Captain, you’re not going alone, are you?” He inquired.

“Yeah, I am. It’ll be a quick in and out, and I didn’t want to bother anyone for that.” I offered him a smile and went to leave when he grabbed my hand. I looked at my hand and then at Max. He quickly let go.

“Allow me to join you, I would hate myself if anything happened to you.” He waited for me to respond.

“I’m 95, Max, I can take care of myself. I’ll be back before you know it.” I winked at him and headed out before he could protest.

 --

 Max paced by the door of the ship for what felt like hours. She should have been back by now, Max thought. Max considered going out to make sure things were alright when Ellie told him to chill out.

“She’s fine Max. I’m sure she’s just having a hard time finding whatever the fuck that old lady wanted her to find.” Ellie leaned against the door frame. Max considered that but still, he was worried.

“I still would like to know for sure. We should make sure our Captain is okay. ” Max said, checking the ammo in his gun.

“Sure, that’s why you want to check. Wink Wink.” Did she just say wink out loud, Max thought.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Ellie.” Max replied, anger bubbling up.

“Please. Everyone on this ship knows you have the hots for the Captain. Just tell her already.”

“Ellie, that is just—“

“Vicar, sir? I think you should tell her too.” Parvati appeared next to Ellie. Max rolled his eyes. “Now, listen, sometimes you need to take a chance? If the Captain hadn’t told me to take a chance, Junlei and I wouldn’t have gotten to know each other better. Just consider it.” Parvati walked away before Max could respond.

“You all can stay here but I’m going to go check on her.” Max walked over to the door and opened it to find the Captain standing on the other side. Max turned bright red. Had the Captain heard? He went to ask her how long she had been standing there when he looked down to see the huge bite mark on the Captains side, blood soaked clothes shredded around it. The Captain went to speak when her legs gave out. Max caught her just in time.

“Ellie! Get everyone now! The Captain is hurt!” Max picked the Captain up bridal style and rushed her to the cargo bay. He laid her down on the cot that was left there from the previous Captain and moved it to the middle of the bay.

 Everyone rushed down, Parvati holding all the medical supplies they had on hand. The Captain was out cold, and the bleeding was getting worse.

“Okay, first we need to clean the wound!”

“What if there’s teeth embedded in her side?! We need to make sure!”

“Then get to checkin’!”

The group quickly got to work trying to save their Captain.

 --

 Everything sounded far away. Like I was wearing ear muffs but also was several rooms away from a loud party. I tried opening my eyes but even that was too much effort. My body felt like it was hit by a train. I tried to focus on what I could hear, since that was the only thing I could do.

I think I’m in my room. I hear Max. I heard Parvati. I think I hear Felix. My hearing is starting to get less muffled.

I think I hear Felix ask how I’m doing. Someone feels my forehead. I think it’s Parvati, her hands are calloused from all the work she does.  She says my fever has gone down. Felix sighs in relief. I hear a chair pull up and someone grabs my hand, holds it. I think it’s Max. Parvati and Felix’s voices are gone now. It’s just Max.

“Why did you have to go alone?” I can barely hear him when he says this.

“Law… I will do anything you want. Anything you name it. Just let her be okay.” He lifts my hand and kisses it. He presses his forehead against my hand and just stays like that for a while. I hear him quietly cry. I want to let him know I’m okay but my body doesn’t listen. Even moving a finger seems impossible. But I’ve already beaten the impossible. I was revived on a 28% chance of survival. I needed to let Max know I’m okay.

I muster up all the strength I have, and it’s not a lot, and by some act of God or Law or whoever, I lightly squeeze his hand. Max snaps his head up and I know he’s looking at me, searching my face for a sign of life. I try my luck again, and I squeeze his hand again, weaker this time, but I manage. Max gasps lightly and lets out the breath of air he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Don’t ever go alone again.” He simply says. He kisses my forehead and I fall back asleep.

 --

 The next time I gain consciousness I’m alone. But this time I’m able to open my eyes and move. My side is killing me, my throat is dry, and I’m starved. I slowly try to sit up, swinging my legs off the side of my bed. The thing about being in space is you never really know what time it is. We’re not on Roseway anymore. I wonder if we’re in orbit or had left entirely.

 I try to stand. With the help of the chair by my bedside, I’m able to. My legs are wobbly but I’m able to keep my balance. I’ve had to have been out for days. I slowly make my way over to my door but I stop at the stairs. I really want to know where everyone is but I don’t know if I can manage the stairs. It’s only 3 steps but in the state I’m in, it might as well be 30. I decide to try to step down when the door opens to reveal Max, holding some food.

We stare at each other for what feels like forever. All the feelings crashing into us like waves at sea. I must have leaned forward too much as I start to fall forward. But I don’t hit the floor. Max catches me with ease, at the expense of the snacks he had brought for me. He holds me to his chest, but he soon is clutching me. Trying to make sure I’m real and standing in front of him. I hear his heart racing and his breathing waver. I nuzzle into his neck as a way to bring him back from his racing thoughts.

“Are you okay?” He breaks the silence. I nod against his shoulder. He slowly lifts me up and brings me back to my bed. I reluctantly let go of him when he sits on the edge of my bed.

“How does your side feel?” He lifts up the loose shirt I’m wearing to make sure there’s no bleed through.

“I’m fine.” I croak out. Right, throat is still dry.

“Let me get you something to drink.” He says, he quickly leaves the room and comes back with a cup of water, and also the snacks he dropped. He gives me the cup and I drink it slowly, not wanting to choke. I hand him the cup back.

“You really gave us a scare.” He says, looking at his hands. I look at him and sigh.

“I’m sorry. Damn Rapt came out of nowhere and then my gun jammed—“ Max looks up and there’s tears in his eyes. I shut my mouth and lean forward and pull him into a hug. He hugs me tight, making sure he doesn’t hurt my side. I rub his back. I hear him chuckle and pull away, confused.

“Look at me, you’re the one that was at death’s door and I’m the one in tears.” He wipes his tears away.

“It’s okay to feel that way, though.” I reach for his hand, squeezing it. “How long have I been out?”

“Almost a week.”

“A WEEK?!” I gape.

“Rapt saliva is quite hard to work out of the bodies system. Plus Nyoka found some medication to keep you sedated so you wouldn’t try to move or do anything while healing.” Max said, sheepishly.

“I mean, that’s for the best. I would have wanted to go hunt down that rapt and show him whose boss.” I chuckle and lay back down. Max brushes hair out of my face and caress’ me.

 “Are we going to address the elephant in the room?” I ask. Sometime the direct approach is the best. Max’s face grows pink, but he nods.

“How long have you had the hots for your Captain, Preacher Man?” I say, smirking. Max rolls his eyes at the name, but is smiling.

“It’s hard to tell. It feels like I’ve known you for a lifetime. Your courage and confidence drew me in, but your good heart and honesty were the real kicker. I do hope that this doesn’t cause any issues with me being on this ship. I understand if you would like me to return to Edgewa—“ Max’s words were hushed when I kissed him.

I pulled away to see his expression. Max was wide eyed and speechless.

“Now Max, did it ever occur to that perhaps I may like you back? Perhaps Captain also had the hots for Preacher Man?” Max smiled and pulled me into another kiss. This one deeper. I rested my hand on the side of his neck, pulling him more into the kiss. I started to lean back onto the bed when Max pulled away, concern on his face.

“I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves, you’re still healing, remember?”

“Max, I haven’t gotten laid in over 70 years.” I pleaded. Max seemed hesitant still.

“If anything hurts, we stop.” Max stated. I nodded excitedly and grabbed him by the collar of his robes and crashed my lips against his.

Max rested one hand on the bed for support and the other on my cheek, his legs still hanging off the side of the bed. I rested a hand against his chest and the other around his neck. His lips left mine and kissed down the side of my jaw, down to my neck. I groaned lightly, and Max pulled away.

“Did that hurt?” He asked, worried.

“Max, I was moaning.” I said, flatly. He whispered “Oh” and went back to kissing my neck. I smiled to myself. He was such a goofball.

I slowly dragged my hand down his chest, down to his stomach, and then to the front of his pants. I rubbed his hard on through his pants. At that point he had stopped kissing my neck and was panting into my shoulder. I used my other hand and guided him back to my mouth so we could continue kissing. The kiss was very deep, as if he was trying to distract himself from me palming him through his pants.

Max’s free hand snaked its way up my shirt and started to massage my chest, rubbing my nipple with his thumb. I opened my mouth at the sudden feeling and Max pulled my lower lip into his mouth.

At this point, I just wanted to make Max feel good and loved, so I decided to unbutton the front of his pants and slide my hand into the front of his boxers. Max groaned when I ran my thumb over the tip, precum leaking out. Max slowly reached for my hand and pulled it away.

“I want to focus on you for a bit.” He said. He looked at me for approval to continue.

 “Yes, Vicar.” I said breathily, batting my eyelashes. I could see his eyes glaze over with what could only be pure lust. He pressed his lips to mine and devoured me. He now was fully on top of me, shoes kicked off, pants half way down his thighs.

His hand ran up my thigh and stroked my pelvic bone, making me shiver. He slowly traced the hem of my shorts, pulling them down and off, dipping his hand in. His finger traced along my slit, dipping in a finger. He growled lowly at how wet I already was.

“Is this all for me?” He asked, kissing my neck. I nodded.

“Use your voice, Darling.” He said.

“Yes,” I breathed out.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Vicar.” And with that, he began to massage my clit with such precise motions.

I cried out from how great it felt. I hadn’t been pleasured like this in so long. I wasn’t the most experienced, even when I was on Earth. Max inserting another finger brought me back from my thoughts. I held onto his arms, my head pressed back into my pillows. He moved my shirt up so that my chest was exposed and pulled my nipple into his mouth.

I was just a moaning mess soon after. Max would pump a few fingers in and out and then go back to massage my clit. I was so close. My first orgasm in over 70 years was highly anticipated. I pulled Max’s mouth back up to mine and moaned into his mouth as I rode his fingers through my orgasm.

Max rested his forehead against mine as I came down from my high. Orgasms were definitely the same as I remembered. I looked up at him through my half lidded eyes and I must have looked a mess.

“Perhaps we should stop.” Max said. The way I looked at him must have said it all as nodded.

I sat up and stood. Max tried to stand too but I pushed him back down so that he was on his back, me hovering over him.

“Your turn now.” I said. Max tried to protest but I kissed him, hand returning to his hard on. I palmed him through his boxers for a moment before slipping my hand in, stroking him.

He pulled down his boxers so I would have better access, and I gladly started to him a few more long strokes before I scooted down the bed.

Max’s eyes rolled back into his head when I licked a long strip up his dick. He gripped the bed sheets in his hand, white knuckled. I took him into my mouth and began to bob up and down. One hand found the back of my head and lightly gripped my hair. His hips began to press upwards as I would bob down. Max moaned as I ran a hand up and down his thigh.

“Darling, if we are to continue further, you must stop your beautiful movements.” Max said, clearly on the edge. I licked one last strip before looking at him. His hair was pressed to his forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed. He was so beautiful.

“If you don’t mind, I would prefer you be on the bottom, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” He said. I shrugged and switched places with Max.

Max took his shirt off, and then mine. He was toned underneath his holy garb. I admired his body until he climbed on top of me and I looked at him. The way he looked at me took my breath away. I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at with such love.

He kissed me again as he rubbed himself along my slit. We both groaned at the feeling. He slowly entered me and I groaned loudly. He buried his head into my shoulder as he began to pump in and out of me slowly. The bed creaked with the movements, and I prayed that no one else was happening to be passing by my room. I’m sure everyone knew what was happening since Max had been gone so long now, but you didn’t need anyone to hear it.  

“Oh Law, you feel so amazing.” Max moaned into my ear. I ran my nails gently down his back. The sound of skin on skin filled the room.

“Oh, Vicar…” He was hitting all the right places. Something about being called Vicar was really turning him on. He started to thrust deeper, bottoming out. He began to kiss me again, while he snaked his hand between us and began to rub my clit.

I could feel another orgasm coming. His fingers were like magic.

I clenched around him, crying out again, moaning his name over and over.

Max began to pick up his pace, chasing after his own release.

He kissed me harshly as he came, painting my walls white. His thrusts were erratic as he came down.

He rested his head against mine as we breathed hard. He kissed my nose before pulling out, I could feel his cum leaking. He laid beside me and I cuddled into him. We stayed like that for a while before I spoke.

“So, what are we then?” I asked, suddenly nervous. I had definitely used for just sex before, but I didn’t care since I didn’t want to have a relationship. But now? I didn’t want to lose Max.

“If you’ll have me, Captain, I will be by your side until the end of my days.” Max said. I looked into his eyes to find sincerity. I cried for the first time in a long time. Max alarmingly held me and rocked me until I calmed down.

“Sorry, I just haven’t been like, loved for real, in a long time.” I said, embarrassed.

“It’s okay. I can’t wait to shower you with all the love you deserve.” Max said. The water works were about to happen again when a loud bang rang out in the room from the door. Max and I froze in place.

“Are y’all done in there? We have places to go and bits to earn!” Nyoka’s voice rang out.

“Nyoka! I just got laid for the first time in 70 years, give a bitch a break!” I yelled back. I could hear Nyoka groan in disgust and walk off.

“I suppose I should shower since I haven’t in a week.” I said, standing slowly, legs feeling like jelly. Max rose from the bed and kissed me.

“I think I better help you with that. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He winked, and now it was my turn to roll my eyes.  

#vicar max #vicar max x reader #max desoto #max desoto x reader #outer worlds #the outer worlds #my fics

[gcldveins]

i’m sorry i have no self-control and also maya hawke, medalion rahimi, brianne tju is literally so freaking gorgeous so i couldn’t Not .... so here is my fourth child !! an actual child, louisa kwan !!

overview

✎⌠brianne tju. cisfemale. she/her⌡❝ — well, look who’s just arrived ! if it isn’t the one and only louisa kwan. though, around here they’re known as the insurgent. don’t tell ‘em i said this but the twenty-three year old drummer and reel tide cinema worker kinda has a reputation of being cynical and headstrong. but y’know, they can be understanding and clever too. typical taurus. anyways, welcome home and stay safe lou ! ❞

full name: louisa winnifred kwan.

nickname(s): lou, only lou or she will blow up ur mailbox

date of birth: may 11th, 1996

hometown: misty hollow, connecticut.

gender identity: cis gender

preferred pronouns: she/her

sexual orientation: homosexual

hogwarts house: slytherin

aesthetic: dirty converses, oversized sweatshirts, lots of flannel, the smell of vanilla and earl grey, dark circles under her eyes, the steady ticking of a clock, second-hand books, music so loud you can feel the ground vibrate.

their song from the sigh no more album bc i love this album and it makes me Sad™: the cave

background: sexual assault tw

lou’s lived in misty hollow her entire life ! and she hates it ! but is she gonna do anything abt it ?? probably not :)

she has one younger sister and together they lived w their dad at the trailer park on the outskirts of town ( though lou moved out when she was 17 and only ever comes back to check up on her sister )

lou and her sister grew up in a pretty tumultuous and unstable environment, never knowing what time their dad would come home, if he’d even be sober or not. sometimes he would just disappear for days at a time so lou and her sister learned how to make do without him.

she’s worked at the local grocery store since she was fourteen, picked up a few other part-time jobs here and there to accompany it throughout the years, but her job at the grocery store is one of the few constants in her life.

lou’s quite smart, always excelling in school without much effort. as she got older, teachers would encourage her to join writing competitions and apply for certain scholarships, but her father always told her she’d never make it, that they would never look at someone like her and see a winner.

so over the years, that’s just been kind of playing in her head on repeat. she’s incredibly afraid of failure, of not being good enough, to the point that she won’t even allow herself the opportunity to succeed if it means failing is a possibility. 

and that’s why she’s never really done anything with her life. after high school, she took up a full-time position at the grocery store and also works at reel tide cinema on her off days. she tried taking a couple courses at the college once or twice, but never really got past that point.

if she could have, she would have gone to school to be an english major. reading was always one thing she really enjoyed, same with creative writing. probably could’ve gotten her masters and been a teacher or something, she’s always been good with younger kids. 

lou learned how to play the drums when one of her dad’s friends offered to teach her. she really enjoyed it - music provided another escape, another outlet for her. but then he made a move on her at fifteen years old, so after telling him to fuck off, lou picked up extra shifts at work and saved up for almost two years to buy her own drum set.

she joined rosie’s band when she was a wee lil thing, hardly even knew how to play but !!! now it’s one of her favourite past times and allows her to feel like ... maybe shes KINDA doing smth with her life that isnt totally shit boring

personality

lou’s pretty quiet, likes to stay in the background of things. she doesn’t say much, but she’s not shy at all. just prefers to keep to herself.

once you get her talking or riled up though, you’ll find she’s quite opinionated and zealous. had behavioral issues as a child cause if someone couldn’t wait their turn for the sharpener .... they probably would’ve gotten merked. 

but in high school she grew out of that, learned how to control herself and channel her anger into things like music and writing. now just resorts to flipping people off as her physical expression of anger <3

lou’s the type of person that .. if she doesn’t like you, she won’t be afraid to let you know. 

but has always had a soft spot for kids .. she really loves her younger sister and they’ve made a pact that once she turns eighteen she’ll move in with lou in her shitty little apartment ;-;

always kind of has a calming, quiet presence. just an overall chill person. but when her chaotic energy is channelled... v much the anarchist, activist type. probably could’ve also studied social justice or smth in university. she’s like .. the one that comes up w the schemes and strategies then convinces someone else to do it for her nfjsndks

wanted

friends ! lou keeps a tight circle, mostly gravitates towards quiet types like her but i’d love for her to have that chaotic friend where they’re just .. a v bad influence on each other n like .. overall a bad omen on misty hollow

a roommate !! someone that’s willing to share a crappy lil apartment w her and eventually her little sister <3

people she works with ?? she’s had a lot of jobs over the years so !! anything will work

exes ?? lou’s been in denial abt her sexuality up until like two years ago probably lmao so anything goes !

people she went to school w or grew up w mayhaps ??

these are all just ideas, crappy ones at that, but i’m pretty much down for anything n would love to brainstorm w yall !!

#misty.intro #did i make this shit up right here right now? #yeah. yeah i did :~) #now to make her tags ndfjgdnf BRB #if u wanna plot w my babie pls !! feel free to hmu !! #ill try n mssg everyone tht likes this as well <3

[lapishasproblems]

“You two can’t be serious.” (Post-reveal love square fic)

<Previous Part [PART THREE] Next Part>

[READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

(Original idea right here by @livanarose , ps, I never told you how grateful I am for letting me use your idea so thank you, thank you so much :)))

My self-esteem is so goddamn low, I thought the notes were going to drastically dip right after the first one. BUt NoPE. So thank you to everyone who are still reading. Believe it or not, I still read the comments every damn time. It brightens up my entire day, yall. You’re the reason I’m even still writing.

One person mentioned that there are not many people who write fics about the aftermath of the reveal back in the previous part. Well, for that, you might want to thank the person who gave me the inspiration for this fic ;))

Alright, enough with the babbling. Please enjoy this next part (I wrote partially at the movies. I regret nothing)

~~~

“MODEL ADRIEN AGRESTE’S GIRLFRIEND FINALLY REVEALED.”

“YES! YES! I WIN! MARINETTE STYLE, BOO-YAH!”

Plagg took it as a chance to mock him. “Come on, Adrien. You’re not letting this girl beat you again, right?”

“That’s rude,” Tikki mentioned.

“I know.”

“No, I mean to Marinette. She has a name, you know.”

Adrien groaned. Pushing back the pink chair he was sitting on. Sure, he was sick of losing to Marinette all the time, but he could never hold back the smile that starts to blossom everytime the girl beats him. Whether it was a video game, or an akuma attack, or anything, really. The fact: Adrien likes getting his ass beaten by this girl, in whichever form she’s in.

“Alright, Agreste, ready for round two?” Marinette turned.

Adrien smirked, ready to test his luck again. “Absolu—“

“Marinette?”

The girl turned just in time to spot her mother pop her head through the trapdoor, a plate of croissants in her hand. The two kwamis that were lounging on the table moved to hide behind Adrien’s back.

“Your croissants are ready.”

Marinette put down her controller and went over to get the plate from her mother’s hands, giving the woman a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks a lot, Mom.”

Sabine smiled back at her daughter and turned to the blonde boy still sitting with a controller in his hand. “Adrien, will you be staying for dinner?”

Will you be staying forever? Marinette thought briefly before shaking herself awake from it.

The boy nodded. “Of course, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” Sabine nodded, turning to Marinette. “Come down for dinner soon, dear.”

“We will, Mom.”

The baker’s wife nodded before disappearing through the trapdoor again, closing it on her way down.

Marinette straightened from her crouching position before waking over with a plate of croissants in her hand. The two kwamis who were hiding earlier came out from behind Adrien’s back and zoomed away to the direction of the pink chaise lounge nearby.

Marinette and Adrien have been dating for a couple of weeks now. So were Ladybug and Chat Noir. This far, the plan worked perfectly, no flaws. Sure, Marinette wasn’t a really good actor and Adrien constantly recieved death glares from the girl when he nearly let the truth slip, but nobody suspected a thing. Everyone was oblivious.

It didn’t take long for the media to find out about Adrien’s girlfriend. What took forever was for them to find just who this girl is, exactly as planned. Adrien (and Marinette) were in the news today. As the boy expected, the headline, in bold.

The plan aside, Marinette was beyond glad that everything worked out. Adrien often stayed at her place for dinner, finally feeling love and acceptance since the last dinner he had with his mother. Marinette of the other hand received advices and feedbacks on her designs from Gabriel Agreste. Video games, holding hands, kissing, movies together, and little cuddle sessions were the other little things she loved.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were pretty much the same, just with a little more cat puns and flirting and a little less ice cream dates and talking at school. Akuma attacks were no longer excuses for Chat to see the lady of his dreams. What for? They meet each other everyday at school. But those times they spend in battle with each other were also reminders of how strong their bond was.

“Did you make these?”

The question brought Marinette back to the present as she placed the baked good-filled plate on her table before sitting on the empty chair next to Adrien.

“Yeah. I just asked Mom to watch over them while they bake,” she shrugged, picking one warm pastry. “How did you know that, though?”

Adrien smiled, picking one croissant. “By now I know that everytime I come over, you bake stuff for me.”

Marinette stiffened, her cheeks suddenly burning. The girl suddenly found her pink shoes interesting, not wanting to meet the pair of green eyes that were staring at her intently. She picked at the warm, fresh pasty in her hands, unable to function properly.

Finally, the girl eyed the croissant in Adrien’s hand.

“Uhm, well...is it good?”

Adrien nodded.

“Y-you haven’t even good it yet, how do you know it’s eaten?” she blurted before realizing her mistake, correcting it quickly. “I-I mean, you haven’t even eaten it yet, how do you know it’s good?”

Adrien chuckled. I wish it could be like this forever.

“I don’t need to eat it to know it’s good, Bugaboo. Everything you make seems to be good, whether it’s your baking or your design.”

Marinette was sure her face looked like a big tomato now. She didn’t even bother eating the croissant anymore. She simply covered her face with her free hand and shut her eyes, facing the other way, too embarrassed to even look at the blonde.

Adrien on the other hand, wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to coax her to start playing again before Sabine calls the both of them downstairs for dinner. He eyed Marinette’s chaise lounge, finding Tikki and Plagg there, giggling uncontrollably. Well, Tikki actually looked like she wanted to help the flustered girl, but Plagg was holding her back, the two giggling all the while.

The model leaned forward, taking Marinette’s hands. “Hey.”

“Adrien, don’t—“

“Uh, sorry to interrupt this beautiful interaction.”

The third voice brought both Marinette and Adrien to their senses, turning to the chaise lounge where the cat kwami was eagerly trying to catch their attention, which he succeeded in doing. The ladybug kwami had flown over to the window, looking at whatever is out there, if not the Parisian landscape.

Tikki finally turned to the two.

“It seems that Paris needs you both right now.”

~~~

Ladybug leapt to a rooftop, studying the akumatized victim not far from the Eiffel Tower, as if looking for something, her back facing the red clad superhero. The victim was a teenage girl around her age, with a black bodysuit and platinum blonde hair tied back into a tight ponytail. She had something like a staff in her hands.

“What do we have here, Bugaboo?”

The girl turned, finding her partner standing casually behind her.

“Let’s get closer, see what we’re working with here.”

Chat Noir nodded and the two heroes leaped from rooftop to rooftop, looking at the damage the victim caused around the Parisian streets. Ladybug swore she caught sight of people in other black bodysuits running like ninjas around the streets, as if looking for something while she threw her yo-yo for another momentum.

“She’s turning people into these spy-looking things, My Lady,” Chat blurted, still using his baton to leap around.

“Clearly.”

The duo stopped close enough to inspect and listen to the akuma victim better, but not too close that she would immediately spot them and pounce.

“Yes...yes! My minions, find Adrien Agreste and bring him to me!”

Ladybug eyed her partner. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

The woman with the black bodysuit and platinum hair turned around, finding the red clad superhero about to leave her hiding place and strike, looking like a deer in headlights.

Ladybug froze. Not because she just missed her chance for a stealth attack, but because the victim had these ugly pair of sunglasses on her face. As a designer, the blue-haired girl took her time to flinch.

“Ladybug! How nice of you to join us!” The woman sighed in delight. “I’m the Paparazzi and I have a special mission for you.”

“Yeah?” The girl spinned her yo-yo as a shield. “Do tell me.”

“Go and find Adrien Agreste’s girlfriend for me. What was her name again? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Ladybug scoffed, tensing up all the while. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you have no right to decide.”

“Wha—“

“LOOK OUT!”

Ladybug was ready for an attack, deflecting it with her yo-yo, but before she realized anything happened, she was up in the air, catching a swift black shape beforehand, taking her for a leap. Once they landed on a different rooftop, she turned to look at her savior.

“Thanks, kitty.”

“No problem,” he shrugged, pulling out his baton. “Mind telling me what you did that angered this akuma victim?”

“Wasn’t this your fault? She was looking for you!”

“You too.”

“Doesn’t matter—“

“AHA! THERE YOU ARE!” the Paparazzi turned and spotted the two on a rooftop, not far from where she was standing. “And with Chat Noir too. I shall make the both of you my minions.”

The akuma victim raised her sunglasses and Chat Noir quickly looked away, closing his partner’s eyes with his free hand.

“Don’t look at her eyes, she’ll turn you into one of her ninjas,” Chat warned, grabbing her cheek and urging her to look away with him.

“Where’s the akuma?”

“Purr-haps the sunglasses,” Chat Noir shrugged.

“Great, I’ll try to distract her while you use your cataclysm,” she replied, ignoring the pun.

“As you wish, My Lady,” Chat Nor replied before leaving her on the rooftop, leaping to another building using his baton.

Left alone, the red clad superhero racked her brain, trying to find a plan.

“LADYBUG!”

Without looking at where the voice was coming from, she groaned, extending her yo-yo to get as far away from the Paparazzi as possible. Just as she was ready to swing herself away from the rooftop she was standing on, a pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders, pinning her down and holding her wrists.

The blue-haired closed her eyes shut, knowing that she’d be unable to fight if she opened them and looked at her opponent’s.

“Come on Ladybug, join my army,” the akuma victim said. “All you have to do is look for that girl for me. I’d even accept her alive or dead.”

Ladybug turned her head to the left, not wanting to be face-to-face with the Paparazzi, despite the fact that her eyes were still shut tightly.

“Or, I can just take these—“

The heroine felt a hand on her right earlobe.

“NO!”

“—and you don’t even have to be one of my minions.”

Her opponent’s hand took the earring on her right ear, making Ladybug thrash and squirm within her grip, her transformation slowly dropping.

“Mind if I join in?”

The Paparazzi looked around, trying to find the source of the third voice. But before she could even pinpoint the person she’s looking for, a black-gloved hand reached for her sunglasses from behind, immediately turning it to dust. The akuma victim quickly found her attacker, facing the other way, letting Ladybug finally open her eyes safely.

Despite the fact that her vision was still blurry, she should’ve been able to see the akuma anywhere, but she couldn’t find it.

“Wrong target, My Lady,” someone shouted from behind the opponent that was still pinning her down. “It’s not the sunglasses.”

Ladybug took the chance while her opponent was distracted with Chat Noir and grabbed her earring from the Paparazzi’s hand, putting it back on her right ear. The red clad superhero was sure that the platinum-haired villain was going to go back and focus on her, but she was wrong. Paparazzi stood up and charged at Chat Noir, who was still looking away.

“CHAT NOIR!”

And everything seemed to go slowly when the Paparazzi whacked Chat Noir with her staff, so strong that the force was enough to drive Chat to the edge of the rooftop.

“NO!”

And Ladybug saw as Chat lost his balance and fell.

~~~

I was honestly expecting a lot of diabetes-worth fluff but this turned out to be a somewhat angst. I just let the ideas float, man. This wasn’t planned.

Bruh, the plan was just to create phase three but here we are.

Again, thank you for the love you all have shown for this fic. The previous parts recieved lots of notes and there is nobody else I can thank but you all. You guys keep me alive and writing.

But honestly, I suck at writing fights. I had to rack my brain to come up with this certain akuma victim with those certain powers. I also had to think intensively to come up with those fighting scenes.

Okay so I’d like to apologize for taking two (one and a half?) days before I continue. I’m watching the Promised Neverland (thanks to the person who recommended it to me in the other post, ps, I LOVE IT SO FAR!) and I’ve been so distracted. Do forgive me.

I’ve also been thinking to start mentioning people who want to keep up with the fic. So give me a “:))” if you’d like to be mentioned for the next parts.

Alright, that was part three for all of you! Thanks for keeping up with the story! Anyone up for part four? Don’t forget to leave your thoughts, advices, and feedbacks down there! I’d love to hear from everyone :))

#mlb #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladynoir #adrienette #ladrien #marichat #post reveal ladynoir #post reveal adrienette #post reveal ladrien #post reveal marichat #you two cant be serious

[almasidaliano]

a few of today’s new epiphanies; a dissertation. {pt 1 // 0304.}

telepathy is a beautiful thing really. strange this little experience. i thought i was delirious and honestly maybe i still am. however, i’m in control of how i use that. i understand now, a little more than before. i have a lot to do; few book series in store. i must commit to fluently typing on a typewriter. because of the aesthetic. {the idea is to release at MINIMUM 3 books in various structures; all the beginning of a different series/saga.} i plan to stick to handwriting until my muscles breathe with the memory. every word i write, solidifies the world’ll remember me. and every seed indeed.

thurtherfore, my mouth is not my only gifted piece, you see coupled with my ears- i don’t know how else to be.. blessings are curses too; it the most melocholny ways.. i listen to myself now; not immediately not completely however {i’m prone to self sabotage so we won’t be greedy😂} - only up from here ; just as soon as we find it again. :$ if everyone is truly listening how are things as they’ve formerly been? let that sink in..

so am i wrong; for trying to preserve, something that took every level of my existence to procure? seeing as it took every level of her existence to preserve; long enough to see the top; i didn’t expect the drop.. there’s power in having nothing to lose - expect i didn’t want to be who i was around your family because i couldn’t see past the bruising and the scars. i’m a product of my environment , just like you. different environment, so initial different construct. i met you and then all i thought knew was confirmed or surprisingly corrected. still easier said than done simply reframing your ideologies. because wounds aren’t healed, things still have been suppressed and have yet to even be addressed; because time had other plans in mind.. {so do i..}

so here’s the sitch ; i miss my stitch. and refuse to indulge something less than what exists within the bond we built, whilst feeling guilty so then receding into isolation to avoid feeling as if i was compromising myself and that bond. like i only can’t access 3/4 of one piece now. that physical aspect is missing.. that comfort that grounds you. the way her existence was my only addiction; used correctly you can help someone you love remember/find themselves; that’s what she did.

i’m in a place i’ve never been. this is when everything changed. WELL 2021. i say that because i’m way out of my lane; i have never been through nor felt the things i’m experiencing. i’m in a position i wish i had only ever seen on tv, while simultaneously thanking divinity. because - it is better to have loved and have lost, than to never know love at all.

***my ENTIRE romantic life before her was a sham. no shade, peace and prosperity to most. i say that because before i was testing society or fitting the picture; i was chasing platonic love because my friends were my family. they helped me manage and maintain my sanity. but friends aren’t caretakers yk we all get older. and not to say s/o are either; just meaning on the day to day. mental health is not easy, and i was never too much.

my friends and i we don’t touch like that {intoxication don’t apply because everybody extra —- eh only alcohol make the volume rise ; just depends lmao} i mean in day to day casual setting ? no. we may quick hug as the family bond grew, had handshakes and mf theme songs before that😂 my family dont exhibit PDA. when i seen people who were together interact it was usually abusive, toxic, portrayed through necessities {extremities} in some form. tough love has been vastly misconstrued. A PRODUCT OF THAT HERE! lmao however- a late winter night, outside a laundromat changed my life. HONESTLY. infinite times for the laundromat cause listeeennn; changed my life night after night. she touched me; and i could breathe again; and feel it. i could feel everything. the way i had been absent from the present; so numb.. she confirmed the theory she created when our eyes met; she always knew she “won”. and i wasn’t hella clingy; i craved the way she showed affection from the first look, first touch, first kiss or moreso gave me the support and courage to accept. besides her i can’t even tell you when any of that happened. AND she’s the only one w a first look and first touch qualifier lmao.

the bond is infinite. spiritual emotional and mental all intact. it’s the physical; the touch i’m searching now to get back. or get a consistent “this’ll be do” ; like we’ll be cool and shit still too.

confession 1: if i collected every night i ever SLEPT meaning truly rested, alone; i may have 2 years at max though.

whether family, roommate, friend, partner i’ve never spent too many night alone. and developmental years? yea maybe 10 of those single nights are from those.

ever seen twitches? i really think to an extend some darkness can consume souls. another time another place we’ve arrived at the gold; two gems to wrap up this expressions ordinance.

so the plan if not bone marrow when we would have a baby was going to be her brother because of the lineup of genes. i still feel , and want {regardless of semantics it will be} to continuing manifesting towards our dreams. it’s just strange; because well how do you approach any person in this situation? 😂 but how do you go to the brother and say this “ like i want to continue to build on the foundation we pavemented. and i was wondering if you’d mind—“ i never expected it to be under this condition. i think she’d be fine with that .

here’s the cavieat: first everything is the same but everything has changed i stg. he doesn’t look the same as i recall from my birds view . however he reminds me of her so much more than the rest of — eh depends it’s anywho. and it’s strange because i strayed and now i don’t know how to break the ice. and i meant to speak to him at all. and that’s like the most important part lmao. because i wanna know him. because him and i are a lot alike because i can’t really believe the “he’s okay” without talking to him, except niggas real short and vague these days i see lmao. he lost his big sister; i my big brother. full blood. balance. your rod. my brothers keeper. it’s ; i am him in this situation above the other siblings dynamically and i want to help however i don’t want to pry or seem weird. some people just want to be bothered because he also doesn’t talk to me so maybe he doesn’t want to. they have the same kind of light in their smiles he only squints his eyes when he laughs. dimples are genetic and let’s just say thanks yall lmao.

it’s energy. it’s just vibes fr. like —

sometimes; even my mind isn’t a place i’m alone.

to be continued..

-A.