#thomas jefferson x reader drabble

[dorkszn]

— letting you do their hair

— thomas j, alexander h, and phillip h x gn reader, john laurens x masc reader

+ black coded reader for thomas and john! modern-ish au!

PHILLIP H !

✩ he loves letting you do this hair. sometimes you don’t even have to ask, he’ll ask you.

✩ he only trust you and his parents to wash it and take care of it

✩ you style it a lot for him and eliza loves it

✩ tender headed as fuck

✩ if someone flirts with him in public, especially if they bring up his hair, he’ll just go on and on about you

✩ “oh my hair? yeah it’s nice, ain’t it? my (s/o) did it. Aren’t they so skilled?”

✩ you teach him how to braid his hair and style it the way you do so he can do them himself if there’s a time you’re not around

☆ watching your favorite shows 🤝 washing and drying his hair

THOMAS J !

☆ he is so protective of his hair. like he’s the only one allowed to touch it

☆ so obviously it took you a lot of begging and convincing but he eventually gave in

☆ he’ll make snarky comments and act like a baby when you first wash his hair or attempt to style it but a little pop with the comb gets him to shut up

☆ he almost fell asleep the first time you braided his hair, but he likes to pretend it never happened

☆ so embarrassed to ask you to wash his hair and you can’t help but tease him for it

☆ after a while, he had you braiding his hair once a week for an extra curl

☆ you guys have matching bonnets

☆ he will literally call James mid hair session and just start talking about the government with him

☆ he was very skeptical about your products but eventually they become the only thing he uses

ALEXANDER H !

☆ he was genuinely surprised when you asked him to do his hair

☆ he hadn’t had anyone to do it or take care of it for years, especially since his mother passed

☆ “you’d do that for me?” he’d question, genuine shock on his face

☆ and it takes all of both of you to not start crying when you do take care of his hair

☆ the first time you washed it for him was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him

☆ it was the most loved he’d felt for a while

☆ then there were times were you just played in his hair

☆ whether we was working or just watching tv, you were putting silly little styles in his hair. and it he loves it. he thinks it’s adorable.

☆ some mornings, he ask you to put his hair up for him or slick it back for him just so he can have the best start to his day

☆ his hair was very first thing he asked you to do when he came back from war

☆ scalp massages >>>

☆ they’re one of the only things that convince him to leave his office, just for a little bit

JOHN L !

☆ after he meets you, he refuses to do his hair unless you’re away on a trip

☆ he whines and pleads, making an excuses on “how you do so much better” and “how loved it makes him feel” while giving you kisses

☆ but if you’re truly tired, of course he’ll give you a break

☆ you came home once and found him wearing your bonnet/durag

☆ you also do most of his haircuts

☆ he doesn’t mind his hair growing out but he knows it’s getting too long when you start beating him while play fighting

☆ to him if you’re winning, his hair is messing with his vision and it’s a “handicap”

☆ definitely gets popped with the comb everytime you do his hair

“john, could you turn your head just a little bit?” you question, your frustration already growing. he couldn’t help but tease you constantly, it was in his nature. he slightly turns his head with a small smirk on his face, knowing he was pissing you off.

“john, don’t play with me right no—“ you cut off your words when john grabs you by the waist and pulls you in and onto his lap. his hand gripping the outside of your thigh to support you as you straddle his legs.

“this angle good enough for you?” he asks, giving you his typically stupid grin. you can’t help but softly smile as you look at him, your previous anger from before leaving.

“t’s fine, i guess.” you shrug before going back to attempting to cut his hair.

“see? why let anyone else do my hair when i can have you do it for free and get a lap dance at the same time?” he says nonchalantly, continuing to scroll on his phone. his free hand caress your thigh and slithering back to ass.

“john, i swear you’re going to wake up bald one day.”

[foxgloveprincess]

This masterlist includes works featured in challenges, requests, and other miscellany where characters do not have a masterlist of their own—yet. Other characters I would consider writing for: other MCU heroes, Chase Collins, Lance Tucker, Charles Blackwood, Bryce Langley. List may be subject to change.

Writing In The Dark Bingo 

Challenge Summary: The stories written for Writing in the Dark Bingo. Includes drabbles featuring Thor, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Loki Laufeyson, Natasha Romanoff, Jake Jensen, Lance Tucker, Ransom Drysdale, Bruce Banner, and Sam Wilson. Heed the warnings. (Dark, Smut)

Attic Wives Anonymous

Series Summary: Welcome to Attic Wives Anonymous! A social club with monthly meetings for likeminded individuals who understand how to kidnap an unsuspecting person truly take care of the one they love. Offered to members is a community, partnership, and protection from outsiders who might expose them as criminals cause distress in such delicate situations. Join our next meeting and unlock the potential for your never-ending horror love story. (Dark, Smut)

An Exploration of Comfort

Series Summary: A series of blurbs/drabbles exploring the various ways we can find comfort with the ones we love. Includes drabbles featuring Phil Coulson, Lee Bodecker, Jake Jensen, Eddie Munson, Jefferson, Thomas Sharpe, Ari Levinson, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers. 

The Undone and the Divine

Series Summary: Tales from a world crawling with old gods. Heed the warnings. (Dark, Smut)

Justin Capshaw Blurbs [Justin Capshaw x Mommy Domme x Female Reader, Smut]

Series Summary: A peek into the life of a Mommy, her puppy, and their babygirl. 

Bare It All [Johnny Storm x Female Reader]

Summary: There are just some things you don’t expect to see when you step out of your shower.

Deliver Me [Wanda Maximoff x Vision x Reader, Dark]

Summary: Driving home after an evening away from your wife doesn’t go quite as planned. But Wanda’s prepared for anything.

Don’t Let Go [Eddie Munson x Female Reader]

Summary: Your days in high school were unforgettable thanks to Eddie Munson’s playful idea of teasing.

Let’s Be Honest [Eddie Munson x Female Reader]

Summary: Sequel to Don’t Let Go. It’s time to get reacquainted with Eddie. Honesty is the best policy, right?

Wanting More  [Eddie Munson x Female Reader]

Summary: Part Three for Don’t Let Go and Let’s Be Honest. With a reignited friendship with Eddie, you couldn’t ask for anything more—or maybe you could. 

Soft!Mr. Freezy Headcanon (Mr. Freezy x Reader)

Bruce at a Party Headcanon/Blurb (Bruce Banner x Reader)

[astralaffairs]

(i could never nag anyone to do anything thanks to my handy dandy anxiety disorder) BUT in the spirit of the spicy content you've provided in the past few days, imagine pres thom and aftercare. i mean how sweet he must be....

i got carried away w/ this oops :)) it takes place btwn their wedding n his inauguratiom

—————————

“Hey, shh, c’mere.”

Y/N could feel herself crying, even if it wasn’t fully conscious; the minute Thomas untied her hands, she curled into herself, but she didn’t put up any resistance when he pulled her into his arms, cradled her against his chest.

“I’ve got you, alright?” he murmured, and the concerned look he wore softened when she clung to him, her arms around his neck. He rubbed circles softly into her lower back. “You’re safe. It’s alright; just relax, sweetheart.”

They sat in silence a few moments, then, leaning against the headboard as Thomas pressed soft kisses to her hair and to her arms, where they were close enough to his mouth. He shifted her on his lap, and she whimpered against his skin.

“You okay?” he whispered. When she just gave a noncommittal hum, he muttered into her hair, “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Her words were muffled, her face buried into his chest, but they made him smile. He smoothed her hair back and lifted her chin. Her eyes still watered; her gaze was hesitant as she glanced up at him.

“Everything feelin’ okay? Anything hurt?”

“I’m fine.” She reclined against his arms, tilted her head back when he kissed the red marks his fingers had left on her neck.

“You sure?”

“Promise.” Her smile was halfhearted, and he furrowed his brow when she didn't meet his eyes, cupping her face in his hand.

“What d’you need? Water? Food?” he asked, “If you want, I can draw a bath, get you cleaned up, or we can just go to sleep ‘n worry about all that in the morning.”

She sniffled, shrugged. “Food sounds nice,” she mumbled, but when she frowned, she went on. “But ‘m okay. Don’t go off to the kitchen. I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Relax, I’m not gonna leave you.”

"Okay," she whispered, pulling herself up to bury her face in the crook of his neck. He massaged her back when she turned to straddle his lap, and she hummed contentedly. "That feels nice."

"Good." He kissed her shoulder. "Want you to feel good."

"I do." She finally leaned back, looking him in the eye. His hands were gentle as one came to rest at her waist, the other pushing her hair away from her face. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?" he repeated, and when she shrugged hesitantly, he gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm just fine, sweetheart. 'M a little more worried about you, right now." He leaned in toward her, but he stopped himself short, running his thumb along her cheekbone. "It okay if I kiss you?"

At the concern in his quiet voice, the tentativeness in his actions, she smiled, pulling him closer. "Of course," she whispered, kissing his lips softly, and when he went on, kissing her cheek tenderly, her smile widened. "You're sweet."

"Dunno if you're gonna be singing the same tune when you wake up covered in bruises tomorrow," he warned, and although he meant the words to be playful, worry permeated his voice; she could feel it in every press of his lips against the side of her head, with every nervous brush of his hands against her body. He was treating her like fine china, afraid that if he held on too hard, she just might shatter. She shook her head.

"Don't talk like that," she murmured, pulling his face back to hers with a hand under his cheek. He raised an eyebrow. "I hate when you talk after sex like you did something wrong. You know I wanted all this, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know," he reassured her, resting his forehead against hers. "I just worry."

"I know you do." Her hold on his body tightened; she pulled him closer, if only because she could tell he was too hesitant to do it himself. "Love you, Thomas."

His smile was watery. "I love you, too."

She rested the side of her head against his chest, kissed his collarbone, and her expression softened when he wrapped her in a blanket; she let her eyes fall shut. When he tucked it under her side and pulled it over her legs, he looped his other arm under her knees. She could’ve fallen asleep there quite easily as he nosed into her neck, kissed the blossoming hickeys on her soft skin, but when her stomach growled loudly, he sighed.

"Alright, we needa get you somethin' to eat." His words sounded final, and when he shifted under her, she pulled back with a concerned look.

"You said you'd stay with me," she protested, and he smiled, kissed her forehead.

"I know. I'm not leavin', but you should have a snack before you fall asleep, here."

"Forget a snack, I could go for a whole meal," she muttered, curling back into his chest, and he raised an eyebrow. "Can you make pancakes tomorrow? A big breakfast sounds nice."

"Aren't you hungry now?"

"I can wait."

He huffed at her words and a surprised yelp escaped her when he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself to his feet, her still resting in his arms. Her eyes flew open.

“Thomas, what are you doing?” she asked, and despite the trace of panic in her voice, a laugh permeated her words. He grinned.

“What, don't you want pancakes?” he asked, and her sigh was exasperated. “We’re going to the kitchen.”

“You could’ve given me some warning before carrying me through your penthouse,” she murmured, shoving his chest lightly.

“Our penthouse,” he corrected her. She rolled her eyes, curling back into his chest.

“Your penthouse. I just live here.”

“Oh, hush.” He shook his head as he turned to the side, shuffling her through the doorway. “This place is every bit as much yours as it is mine. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Whatever. Nothing in this place is mine.” She glanced up at him, wearing a wry smile, and he met her eyes with a raised brow. “Except you, of course.”

Her words made him laugh, but the quip was reassuring as she stretched up to kiss his collarbone; he was relieved that she was still feeling alright.

“What, you wanna remodel this place?” he offered. She cocked her head to the side. “We can redecorate, if you wanna.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sweetheart, if I haven’t already made it clear, I’d do just about anything for you.” He kissed her forehead as he set her down on the kitchen counter, tucking a cushion from one of the kitchen chairs under her. She hummed contentedly, pulling her blanket tighter around her. "You need ice for anything? I know tonight got intense."

She shook her head. "Nothing hurts too bad. It's nothing that I won't be able to sleep off." He furrowed his brow, and when she met his eyes, she added, "but I'll let you know if anything still hurts tomorrow, okay?"

"I'm holdin' you to that," he warned as he turned to withdraw a dish towel from the cabinet above the sink, ran it under the water from the faucet. He wrung it dry. “C’mere.”

Her eyebrows jumped when he pulled her to the edge of the counter by her thighs; her eyes widened when he parted her legs by the knees.

“Thomas,” she whined, shifting in his grasp when he used the rag to wipe both their drying cum from her inner thighs. The lukewarm water and the feel of his calloused fingers on her sensitive skin sent shivers down her legs. “Let me do that.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He pulled the cloth away as she tried to take it from him, and she looked at him impatiently. He took a step closer to her; she raised her eyebrows, and he rested his forehead against hers. “C’mon, baby. Just lemme take care of you, alright? I’m the one who made this mess, anyway.”

“To be fair, it’s both our mess.” She rolled her eyes as he ran his hands up her legs. Despite everything, the feeling still made her skin jump under his touch as she rested her arms across his shoulders.

“Just lemme clean you off,” he said, and his pleading pout made her bite her lips, suppressing her endeared smile. “Please?”

“Must you be so overbearing?” she asked. He shrugged, unapologetic, and reluctantly, she leaned back onto her hands. His smile was soft as he leaned down to kiss her shoulder. She squirmed when he used the dishrag to wipe her pussy clean, and he laughed at her tiny whimper.

“Can’t you sit still?” He pulled back to look her in the eyes with his brows raised. Her scowl was playful.

“Not my fault you left me so sensitive.”

When she swatted his arm, his smile only widened as he leaned in to kiss her. She could feel his grin against her lips, more teeth than technique, and when his mouth found its way to her neck, she giggled.

“Love you,” he murmured against her upper chest, and she knit her hands into his hair, lifting his head back up to hers.

“I love you, too.” She kissed his nose. “Now, are we eating, or what? C’mon, Jefferson; I was promised food.”

“My apologies, Jefferson,” he replied, tone ironic, and she rolled her eyes.

“God, maybe marrying you was a mistake,” she huffed. His grin only broadened.

“‘S a little late for that regret, sweetheart,” he said frankly. “Can’t get an annulment, now, ‘n we’re moving into the White House in a month. You’re stuck with me.” He bumped his nose against hers, and she snorted.

“Oh, the horror.” He rolled his eyes at her words as he walked over to their pantry, and she watched him with a small smile. "Can you put chocolate chips in the pancakes?"

He peeked his head out from behind the pantry door. "I was thinkin' blueberry pancakes, tonight." When she stuck her bottom lip out in a sulking pout, he wore an amused smile.

"Oh, c'mon, I'm the injured one," she whined.

"Thought you said you were fine."

"I changed my mind." She shrugged when he emerged with the pancake mix and syrup, but he rolled his eyes.

"See, you manipulatin' me tells me loud 'n clear that you're doin' okay, sweetheart."

She huffed. "So no chocolate chips?"

"How 'bout half and half?"

She pursed her lips as he pulled the griddle out and plugged it in. "Only if you put sprinkles in the chocolate chip ones."

He laughed. "Alright, fair enough."

Her smile matched his when he kissed her forehead in passing before retrieving a bowl from the cabinet under her. His soft humming as he made the pancake batter, flicked water onto the griddle to see if it was hot enough, made her smile. He drizzled the first couple pancakes on, and she laughed softly when he made a smiley face out of chocolate chips in one.

"You're adorable," she said softly, and he glanced over at her with a smile.

"I try." The self-satisfaction in his voice made her laugh. She sniffled.

"I'm gonna go put on some clothes, alright?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're feeling good enough to be on your own, right now?"

"I'm fine, T," she promised, kissing his upper arm as he flipped a pancake. "Be right back."

"Can you grab me a pair of pants?" he called after her, and she only nodded.

She yawned as she padded across his cold hardwood floor, tugging at her hair to try and get the worst of the tangles out of it. She went straight for his dresser in their bedroom, disregarding her own, and when she slipped on one of his old college t-shirts, she pulled the hem up to her nose, inhaling deeply. She didn't bother to put anything on under them.

When she returned to the kitchen, she pushed herself up to sit on the counter right beside the griddle, watching Thomas as he cooked (and popping several of the blueberries he'd retrieved from the fridge into her mouth). He turned his head, raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Thought you were the one who didn't want the blueberries."

"And I thought you wanted to put on a pair of pants." She raised her eyebrows, holding up his sweatpants, and he grinned as he took them from her.

"Hey, I was just gonna let you enjoy the eye candy for a little longer, but if you've had enough, I guess I can get dressed."

"Please," she snorted. "I have a whole life ahead of me to look at your limp dick. I think I'll manage."

"So mean," he complained, but as he put on the sweatpants, he leaned over to kiss her. "I still like thinking about the fact that you're stuck with me for the rest of your life, now. It doesn't get old."

"Yeah, but we will." She ate a handful of chocolate chips. "Are you really looking forward to bingo nights at our nursing home in fifty years?"

"Fifty years," he repeated softly, and when he sniffled, lifted his hand to wipe at his cheek, her eyebrows shot up.

"Thomas, are you crying?"

"No." His defense was weak; as he lifted his head, she could see his watery eyes.

"You're tearing up."

"'S not my fault you're makin' me sentimental," he said, jabbing her arm with his spatula. She giggled as she ducked away from it. "You know that kinda talk gets me emotional; don't you tease me."

"You're just giving me more reason to tease you, baby," she replied softly, but when he gave her a flat stare, she giggled. She kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I can't help myself. I love you."

"Yeah, yeah, sure you do," he dismissed, and before she could defend herself, plastering on a pout, he turned to their spice cabinet. "What kinda sprinkles d'you want? Chocolate? Rainbow?"

"Rainbow, of course." He pulled them down from the shelf. "Chocolate chips and chocolate sprinkles would be overkill. Aren't you supposed to be the chef in this relationship?"

"Oh, shut it," he grumbled, and she squealed when he poked the side of her waist. He paused, though, when they heard his phone buzz behind him. "Hey, can you check on that for me?"

"Mhm."

He went on humming a tune she couldn't quite place as she grabbed his phone from where it was charging in the kitchen, and when she unlocked it, she laughed.

Thomas turned around. "What's so funny?"

She held up the phone with a grin. "Lafayette says he's going to file a noise complaint if we ruin another night of sleep for him."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Guess we'll have to be quieter, next time."

"Maybe you should just buy me a gag."

Her words made him choke on his own spit.

[spideyswifey]

I Will Try To Fix You: Thomas Jefferson x Reader Preview Part 2

Note: Hi guys! I’m honestly so sorry that I suck at updating! 🥺 But I thank you for your patience and love! So I am still working on this one, however I didn’t wanna just leave y’all hanging in the dark. So here’s another preview before I post the whole thing, which should be very soon! Keep an eye out because it will be out before Christmas! I promise that! Thanks for all the love and support babes! Enjoy this little snippet! -Cai ♥️

P.s: Y’all are gonna hate Martha. 🤭👀

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, trauma, depression, Drinking/drug use, cursing, mentions of sex. If any of this is triggering for you I’d suggest not to read.

Summary: You and Thomas Jefferson are best friends and would do anything for each other, which is exactly how you ended up at this college party. But when a creep from the football team comes too close to you, you immediately regret your decision. Your life changes in an instant and you lose yourself. Will Thomas be able to bring his best friend back?

Tags: @sillyteecup @theatrenerd86 @lindsay3002 @summerofsnowflakes @i-know-i-can @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @bravelybea

—

“So,” You spoke as you approached Thomas’s black camaro, “Besides Martha, who else is gonna be there?” “Why?” “Because if I’m going to a party, I’d like to at least have someone I like around!” “Um, hello?!?” Thomas gestured to himself. “Besides you! Lord knows you’re going straight to the table set up with beer pong once we get there, so I’d like to have some company while you’re busy getting drunk outta your mind!” “Huh, you know what good point!” “Mhm!” “But!” Thomas interjected, “I promise not to get shit-faced this time, only mildly tipsy. Lord knows I make the wrong decisions when I’m drunk!”

“Kinda how you ended up with Martha in the first place isn’t it?” You pointed out. “Ugh, please don’t remind me!” Thomas groaned while leaning his head back for a second, before bringing his eyes back to the road. “That’s the exact reason I ain’t getting drunk! I won’t be able to think straight and she’ll sink her claws in!” “Ok I get it! She’s bad for you, which is what I had said in the beginning.” You mumbled that last part, but he heard you anyways. “I know Y/n, I know. You told me so, you’re always right!” “I didn’t say that...but I mean I won’t stop you from doing so.” You playfully smirked, trying to keep the atmosphere light in order not to fight.

—

But you were right. You knew from the moment you met her, that Marta was toxic! She was manipulative, devious, and not to mention, a bitch! Thomas had met Martha at, of course, a party! Thomas was super drunk and immediately taken by her, one thing led to another and they hooked up. The next morning he asked her out and she agreed. At the start of their relationship, she had him wrapped around her finger. Anything she wanted Thomas would get her, and since he was loaded, she wanted everything! The newest pair of Louboutins, that Gucci designer bag hanging on display, those Raybans that would go so well with her outfit to the beach; she got it all! You saw right through her, but Thomas was blinded by the adoration he had for her. But you could tell he was miserable inside. Though every time you tried to bring up Martha’s actions, he always made an excuse for her. “She’s just stressed and shopping relaxes her.” “It was my fault, I bought her the wrong Chanel purse.” “No, he’s just her study partner, she’s never do that to me!”

But she did.

She did, and without any remorse! He caught her when he went to her place to drop off the notebooks she left in his car since she was going to “study” that night. What he saw made both the notebooks in his hands, and his heart, drop. There she was, making out with her “study partner” on the couch. When they heard the thump of the notebooks hitting the floor, they pulled apart and saw a heartbroken Thomas in front of them. And all that bitch said was “Let’s be honest, Thommy. You should’ve saw this coming! You never really paid attention to what I wanted! You never got me the right things I needed and you spent too much time with that slut you call your best friend! Face it sweetie, you’re just not good enough for me!”

Thomas had no words. He just stormed out, tears streaming down his face as he ran to his car. You were on your couch watching Civil War when you heard frantic knocking on your door. The sight in front of you made your heart ache. There in front of your dorm was your best friend, eyes red and tears streaming down his face. “Tho-” “She cheated on me!” Immediately, you brought him in to sit on your couch and vent about what he just witnessed moments ago.

You were there for him through it all. You remember hugging him tight and doing your best to comfort him through his heartbreak. You remember the anger you felt for that dumb gold digging bitch. You remember how miserable Thomas had felt. You remember the nights he’d call you asking you why he wasn’t good enough. She broke him. What was once your cocky, flirty, dumb best friend was now a heartbroken man in shambles.

For the next month you were with him everyday trying to cheer him up and get him out of his rut. Slowly but surely he started to be him old self again and you got your best friend back.

Though every now and then, she would show up at the same place Thomas was, both would be drunk-him more than her- she’d flirt, he’d fall for her charms again, and they’d end up in bed once more; leaving Thomas to regret it in the morning. There were no more feelings involved for Thomas but lust. He would say that he wanted to just feel it one more time before he moved on for good. But one more time was at least 3 times, the last time you checked. He needed to stay away from her before those feelings came back and before he lets his heart get broken once more. Thus, why you were going to the party in the first place; to prevent a regrettable “one-night stand” for your best friend.

—

“Yeah yeah, nice try. There’s only enough room in this car for one big ego!” Thomas spoke, interrupting your previous thoughts. “Ain’t no arguement here!” You joked. Thomas just rolled his eyes as he continued to drive.

“Burr and Mads will be there.” Thomas said, answering the question you asked minutes before. “Ok, but where there’s Aaron, there’s Theo; and I’m not gonna be a third wheel to those two, no matter how cute they are!” Thomas let out a slight chuckle. “And I love James but knowing him, he’ll be too stoned outta his mind to even have a full conversation.” “Ok true,” he held up one hand in surrender, before placing it back on the steering wheel.

“The Schuylers will be there.” Your eyes widened with surprise. “Dude! Why didn’t you start with that in the first place?!? I mean don’t get me wrong, I love James and Aaron, but those are my girls!” “I didn’t want to mention them being there because I know you’re gonna head straight towards them once we get there.” “And that’s bad because...?” Thomas sighed, “I have nothing against the schuylers, they’re lovely.” “Buuuuut?” You pushed. “Where there’s the Schuyler sisters, there’s Hamilton and his crew.” Thomas huffed.

It was no secret that Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton had beef. They just couldn’t see eye to eye. You on the other hand, had nothing against him or his crew. Sure, Alex could be a little arrogant, but hey, so was Thomas! If you were able to deal with his cocky ass for seven years, you were sure getting along with Hamilton would be a walk in the park; for you at least.

“C’mon T, they’re not all that bad.” You tried. “You’re right, Lafayette is cool, and Mulligan’s alright. Hamilton and Laurens are the assholes.” You sighed. “Alright look, I’m coming to this party with you to help you stay away from Martha, not to keep you out of fights. So please don’t start anything!” “I won’t.” Thomas reassured you. “Good.” “As long as Hamilton keeps his mouth shut.” He mumbled. “Thomas!” You glared at him. “Ok ok! I promise sweetheart, no fights!” “I’m holding you to that!” You kept your cold gaze for a second longer before relaxing your face again.

Thomas finally pulls up to the house with music blasting and lights flashing from inside. Yup, you were definitely at the right spot. You took a breath as you tried to ease your nerves before opening the car door. “Hey!” Thomas grabbed your hand before you had the chance to step out of the vehicle. “Look, I know this ain’t really your scene, so I really appreciate you doing this for me Y/n, honestly.” “It’s no problem T, really. You’d know I’d do anything for you, ya dork!” You smiled cheekily while gently squeezing his hand in reassurance and comfort. Thomas let out a small snicker at your words before continuing. “If it gets too much after about an hour, then we can leave, ok?” You nodded in response. “Ok, then let��s do this!” Thomas beamed.

[deja-you]

since feeling is first

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: a rainy day on campus leads to desecrated poetry (based off the e.e. cummings poem)

masterlist

“since feeling is first

who pays any attention

to the syntax of things”

If you’re being honest with yourself, reading poetry in the rain makes you feel like the main character. It isn’t a completely pleasurable feeling–the water seeps into your bones in a way that will keep you cold for days. You find yourself shaking your hands free from water every few minutes and you’re certain the droplets of water are acting as magnified lenses on all the blemishes of your skin. But! You feel like the main character. It’s worth it.

That’s where he finds you, sprawled across the lap of a fading statue in the rain, clutching a rain-soaked book in your hands. He doesn’t hesitate to march over to where you’re perched to start verbally harassing you with phrases you can’t understand at first. Maybe it’s the rain, maybe it’s his accent, you can’t tell.

“What are you doing! You idiot!” He continues to call you names, some in French, but they all share the same meaning. His words are tinged with affection but he delivers them with urgency.

Just like that, he’s pulled you away from your statue and toward cover. You think it’s sweet that he cares about you, like this is something that a lover would do for their partner in a tragic novel. Perhaps you think this too loudly, because Lafayette fixes you with an intense look.

“I’m not in love with you, you know.”

You trudge through the water beside him and nod. “Good.”

He’s quiet for a moment. He reaches toward you and tugs the book of poetry out of your hands. It’s incredibly soggy and the cover is nearly falling off. Lafayette hardly gives it a second glance before tossing it toward a puddle a few feet away.

“What was that for?” You’re not irritated, mostly curious.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He says. Looking back at the book, he seems to feel a pang of guilt for littering, and to assuage his conscience he quickly adds: “I’m sure someone will think it is romantic to find a book of poetry lost in the rain tomorrow morning.”

You’re the kind of person who would find that romantic, so you don’t argue with him. The rain beats heavily on the two of you while you continue walking along in silence. Now you realize he’s walking with direction; Lafayette is walking you toward your dorm building.

“It’s what people have been saying, that’s all.” His comment comes out of the blue, and you blink at him a few times.

“Huh?”

“That I’m in love with you. That’s what people say.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He’s quiet for a little bit before he adds on: “And it’s not true.”

“I get it. I wouldn’t want you to be, anyway.” If that’s a lie, the both of you are already aware.

The rain lets up for a little bit to let a streetlight shine over the both of your faces. Neither of you take the opportunity to look at each other, hair matted down from the rain and skin soaked, you wouldn’t want him to look at you right now anyway.

The back of his hand brushes the back of yours.

He wants to tell you you’re stupid for sitting out in the rain to read, but he wouldn’t want you to think he cared too much for your well-being. Maybe he’s the stupid one for that, but if he was, he was already aware.

The two of you arrive at the steps to your dorm. Lafayette’s feet are glue now, stuck to the ground as if there were some sort of invisible boundary that he can’t cross (never mind that he’s crossed those steps to see you many times before).

It isn’t until you move to take a step forward that his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. It’s when you turn to look at him with puzzlement that he shouts it out loud enough for the entire university to hear.

“I love you!”

Your clothes feel too heavy to wear and the rain is too loud that you’re not certain it wasn’t your imagination.

“What?“

He clears his throat this time to make sure you hear him right.

“I love you.”

In this moment, his heart reaches out to yours to confirm what you already know. What you’ve always known.

“the best gesture of my brain

is less than your eyelids flutter

which says we are for each other”

[daveeddiggsit]

WIDEOUT: The Masterlist

Summary: When you’re assigned to tutor Thomas Jefferson in chemistry, you find out that there’s more to him than just football. Will you end up being more than just a tutor? If you do, just how strong does your relationship become?

Chapters:

i - TUTOR?

ii - FRIEND?

iii - CHEMISTRY?

iv - PRACTICE?

v - BOYFRIEND

vi - GAME DAY

vii - BROKEN, BUT NOT SHATTERED

viii - THE PLAN

ix - HOMECOMING

x - EPILOGUE - TBD

Headcannons:

T’s Shenanigans

T is Extra AF

PDA

Thom’s Relationship with his Family

Pregnancy Scare

First Time

Drabbles:

Storage Closet

Post-Game Milkshake & Fries

Date Night

Another Football Player Flirts with You

‘I Love You’ Scenario

Party

Meet the Parents

Spooky Haunted House

One-Offs:

Breaking Chains - Thomas gets into a fight during a game.

*release dates subject to change

bold indicates smut

[itevilhag]

See, I'm smiling

:Thomas Jefferson x reader!

A/N: this one is inspired by that scene and the song "See, I'm smiling" from The Last Five Years, damn that musical is so underrated i mean come on! The is story is great and how it was written is actually kinda genius, the backwards/forwards thing and having them meet in the middle is just👌

You and Thomas sat their at the pier in silence both not knowing what to say, your hands fitting perfectly on his, your head on his shoulder, both enjoying the silence. You lift your head up to look at him, admiring his features as he stares at the lake, the movement made Thomas turn his head toward you.

"What?" Thomas asked his brows slightly furrowed, a small smile making its way to his lips "Nothing. I guess I can't believe you really came" you smiled, squeezing his hand.

"And that were sitting on this pier" you started to look around the peaceful lake and the surroundings "See I'm smiling. That means I'm happy that you're here"

"I stole this sweater from the costume shop, it makes me look like Daisy Mae" Thomas laughed and you chuckled "See, were laughing. I think we're gonna be okay" you looked at him softly and nodded.

"I mean, we'll have to try a little harder and bend things to and fro. To make this love special as it was five years ago"

"I mean you made it to Ohio! Who knows where else we can go?" Thomas started to lean in but you turned your face away "I think you're really gonna like this show, I'm pretty sure it doesn't suck" Thomas laughed again "See, you're laughing and I'm smiling, by a river in Ohio and you're mine, we're doing fine"

Thomas tilted your chin up to meet his eyes "Hey, i love you" you smiled "i love you too, so much" he leaned in again but this time you don't turn away, meeting him half way the kiss was sweet and filled with passion, his hand cupping your cheek, yours went to rake it through his hair, you pulled away for air when your lungs started to burn.

"So we'll just start again this weekend and just keep roling along" Thomas stood up offering his hand to you, you took it and started to walk beside him, but then he suddenly stopped.

"Baby I'm sorry but i can't stay. I have somethings to do back in New York. I wanna stay with you here and see you're show but I can't"

Your smile faltered a little bit. He has to leave again "I didn't know you had to go so soon, I thought we had a little time"

"Yeah Y/N baby i know, but those meetings are important" Thomas reasoned "But so am i" you wanted to say but instead you replied.

"Look, whatever, if you have to then you have to, so whatever It's all right" you wrapped your hands around his neck, your noses almost touching, his hand went down your waist holding you close.

"We'll have tonight"

"But the tickets that i bought were for tonight. The flights for tommorow are already booked so..." You looked at him indignantly for a moment before you free yourself from the embrace, raking a hand through your hair you say.

"You know what makes me crazy? I'm sorry, can i say this? You know what makes me nuts? The fact that we could be together here together sharing our night, spending our time and you are gonna choose someone else to be with"

"Y/N that's not true-"

"No, you are. Yes, Thomas that's exactly what you're doing you could be here with me or be there with them. As usual, guess which you pick!"

"Y/N those are meetings important to me i could lose my job-"

"No, Thomas, you do not have to go to another party with the same twenty jerks you already know. You could stay with your wife on her fucking birthday and you could, god forbid, even see my show and I know in your soul it must drive you crazy that you won't get to play with your little girlfriends" you stated your voice starting to rise from time to time.

"'Girlfriends'? What are you talking about?"

"The point is, Thomas that you can't spend a single day that's not about you and you and nothing but you marvelous novelist, you! Isn't he wonderful, just twenty-eight! The savior of writing!" He started to scoff.

"You and you and nothing but you miles and piles of you pushing through windows and bursting through walls en route to the sky!- And I..." The tears that was welling up in your eyes seconds ago started to stain your cheeks, you withdrew a shaky breath, wiping your tears you turned to him, his face had soften, looking slightly guilty.

"I swear to god i'll never understand" you smiled bitterly "How you can stand there straight and tall, and see i'm crying and not do anything at all."

[weshallbegolden]

MAIN MASTERLIST

This is my main masterlist on which you can find my all my other masterlists.

My requests are closed for an unknown period of time. Please, do not send me requests because I will not fill them, I’ll probably just delete them so it doesn’t take space in my inbox. You’ve been warned.

IF YOU WANT TO READ MY WRITING FROM NOW ON, YOU MUST GO ON  AO3.

Masterlist (OS + Fics) | HCs | Ficlets | Pref/Reacs | Aesthetics | Recommendations | Fanart |

Please, be careful when you read my things. Most of my fics are NSFW (because of smuts), so keep it in mind when you start reading my stuff.

The blog is 18+, so know what you engage yourself in when you wander here.

At the beginning of every story, you will have the warnings written, make sure to read them accordingly so you don’t end up surprised!

You can find it on my AO3, which is linked just above.

You’re free to DM me or send me an ask but please be respectful about it. Thank you.

louise.

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

Only Human

Part 9 of the wizard!au

Tagging: @terrazure    @a-hopeless-fan

Thomas was numb.

There was no fight left in him. He knew it would be a mistake to come back, yet he did it anyway and now you were all in danger. 

“Thomas”, Lafayette called

There was nothing he could do. The last time he faced his father, Peter nearly killed him.

“Thomas”

“What”, he seethed

“We need a plan”

“I told you. There is no plan. We can’t beat him. You already know what he’s like”

Peter smirked as he stood near the door. He had Thomas right where he wanted him.

Thomas kept quiet for the remainder of the evening.

You were thankful you decided to come home for spring break. It’s been too long since you had a family dinner. Your parents asked you about your classes, campus life, and how you liked being away from home.

“I like being away. Just not all the time”, you mused

“You don’t feel safe on campus. I can see that because you’re only human”, your father continued, “If that’s the case, you should transfer to be with Angelica. Stay far away from here, keep you safe, and you’ll be with a friend I can trust”

“I’m sure that’s the complete opposite of what she wants to do. She goes to a great school. The last thing she wants to do is uproot her entire life just for you when she can be out living her life the way she wants”, you mother interjected 

“Sylvia”, he simply stated, giving her a pointed look 

“I’m sorry”

You didn’t heed the warning your father sent your mother. She immediately looked away, knowing she overstepped.

“Is that bakery up the street still open?”, you ask

“Yeah. Cherry on Top will never go out of business”

“Can we go tomorrow?”

“Of course”, your mother gave you a warm smile and you couldn’t help but smile back. It felt so good to be back home. Your father grinned at the scene in front of him. It was a dream come true to him when you were both complacent. 

The next day, you and your mother were seated at your favorite bakery. She caught you up on everything she could think of. Work, your father, the neighbors and the dog that barks at all hours of the night. You tried your best to keep up.

“If that’s the case, you should transfer to be with Angelica. Stay far away from here, keep you safe, and you’ll be with a friend I can trust” , you remember your father telling you.

Why did he want you to stay away from here? This was home. He wanted to keep you safe. Why was he concerned with you being human?

The thought of moving away was becoming more enticing by the second. You would be safe. You would be with Angelica. Suddenly, there was a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Leaving school meant leaving the rest of your friends behind. 

No more Alex and John or Hercules and his boyfriend.

Your fork stopped halfway to your mouth. Hercules has a boyfriend? 

You’ve met before. You had classes together.

The more you tried to remember him, the more it felt like your skull was on fire. The pain started at each of your temples as a dull throb, then it started to  spread. The fork fell out your hand as you put your head down.

It was like an itch you couldn’t help but scratch. Something was telling you to let it go, so the pain could stop, but your curiosity wouldn’t let you. 

“(Y/N)? Baby what’s wrong?”, your mother said, voice laced with worry

“Nothing”, you groaned, “Just a headache”

“How have you really enjoyed being on campus”, she said as she gave you a pointed look

“I don’t mind being on campus. I miss being home though”

Sylvia’s smile began to fade. Something was off. You hated that your father chose to send you so far away, but you also loved the idea of no longer being under his control. Sylvia wanted that for you too. She wanted that for the both of you. 

“How has it been with you and your bodyguard?”, your mother asked

Bodyguard? You would have remembered having someone following you around school. In your confusion you knew something about that statement felt familiar. 

As the throbbing increased in intensity, all you could think about was that first week of school. Seabury followed you around campus. He tried to grab you and was almost lit on fire.

“What is that young man’s name? I know it was your father’s idea”

All you could see was his curls and cocky grin as you experienced a skull splitting headache. You wanted to scream.

Your heart pulled at the familiarity of your friend’s grin. You could feel the joy from when you finally finished putting his favorite jacket back together because you knew it would make him smile. He was the friend that you swore to protect, even though it was his job to keep you safe and he was no where to be found. 

You looked around the room as if you expected him to appear out of thin air.

“Thomas”, you managed to get out, “His name is Thomas”

Lafayette and Thomas disappeared the moment you stepped out of the station. You forgot about them the moment you stepped foot into your home. 

“You said dad hired him?”

“Yes”, Sylvia stated, “Your father was more than willing to hire him. Peter was a bit skeptical”

“What else do you now about dad and Peter’s relationship?”

Across town at the Jefferson residence, Peter opened the door to the basement with a malicious grin. It’s only been two days and Thomas had already given up.

Thomas fell into an uneasy slumber. It was all he could do, given there was not chance of escaping.

Thomas was in the garden. He had a rare chance to break away from his father. Ever since he sent away his mother and his siblings, the only person he has left is James. 

“Thomas”, James called as he reached the gate

A smile broke out on his face. Jemmy was the light at the end of the tunnel. The quicker he finished his training, the quicker he could break away from Peter, venture out on his own, and take Jemmy with him...only if he wanted to.

When Thomas reached the gate, the handle disappeared. His heart began to race. The bright summer day began to fade as the clouds rolled in. 

The moment his hand touched the metal, his skin began to burn, but it didn’t stop him from grabbing the gate again and again. 

‘This isn’t normal. This isn’t normal’, Thomas thought frantically

"Thomas”, James said calmly, “Why did you do this to me?”

“What?”

Thomas finally looked up at his friend who was beginning to fade away. 

“Why did you do this to me”, he screamed 

“No. Jemmy I didn--”

“Liar. This is all your fault”

“I--”

“This is all your fault isn’t it?”

Thomas dropped to his knees, tears flowing down his cheeks. Peter warned him. He told him he would go after James if he didn’t obey him. Deep down Thomas knew who to blame.

“This is all my fault. This is all my fault”, Thomas repeated like a mantra

James smirked at him as he faded away completely. 

“Just listen to your father. He knows what’s best”

Thomas jumped as he finally woke up, cheeks still soaked from the tears. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He was worn out.

“The punk is finally awake”, Peter groaned

“Don’t call him that”, Lafayette yelled

With a wave of his hand, Lafayette’s lungs couldn’t pull in any air. He writhed against the chains as he tried to breathe. Thomas didn’t say a word. When Peter felt satisfied, he snapped his fingers and Lafayette could breathe again. 

“What do you want from us?”

“You two are going to help me kill (Y/N)”

“No. There’s no chance in hell”, Lafayette started 

Lafayette stopped shouting obscenities and cursing Peter’s name as he looked to Thomas. The same Thomas that wanted to take Peter down was no longer present. His friend was not the same.

Thomas managed to get out one sentence. With a broken voice, barely holding back his sobs, he said, “Just listen to him. He knows what’s best”

[leslieohdamnjr]

Hiya! Another one? Thomas Jefferson (I just love that guy) with Accidental pregnancy? Would be cool if they weren’t actually, officially a couple either. Angst ya know. I’m still a fragile bean so I’d prefer a good ending but whatever floats your boat, I’ll read it anyways. Don’t worry about being “late”, write when you feel like it and add/remove what you want to just I don’t want you to be pressured now that ur having a ‘fresh’ start. No force, no rush. -ART anon.

Sure thing! Thanks for another prompt ;)

“It’s cold out honey.” You argued, frowning at the little boy who ran down the small entryway in front of you, “Just, please, wear your jacket.”

Laughter spilled from his lips as you began to chase him around the apartment, “It’s not funny.” You said, even as you began to laugh yourself, “If you want to go to the park, you have got to wear your jacket.”

“But Mooooom,” He whined, “I don’t neeeeed one.”

You stepped in front of him and wrapped your arms around him, “Alright, gotcha, tough guy.” You held out the coat for him and he sighed, slipping his arms into the sleeves. “You’ll thank me later.”

Once you’d arrived at the park, your son ran off immediately for the playground equipment. As soon as he layed eyes on her, he asked another kid- about his age- to race him, to which you chuckled .He played for a while as you sat on the bench with your book, making sure to look up and check on him every few pages.

“What are you reading?” A voice pulled you away from your book and you looked up at a man with the same eyes as your little boy.

“Thomas.” You breathed, you hadn’t seen him in… six years.

“You’re reading ‘Thomas’?” He smirked. “I’ve never heard of that one.”

“Um, no.” You chuckled. “I’m rereading Harry Potter, actually.” You showed him the front of the book with ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince’ printed across the cover.

“Nerd.” He teased. 

“That’s what I am.” You smiled, closing your book and slipping it into your purse. “Who’s this guy?” You asked, eyes drifting to the big golden retriever on the leash in Thomas’ hand.

“This is Maverick.” He smiled at the dog. “I call him Mav.”

“He’s cute.” You said, petting the dog.

“Do you want to sit down?” You gestured to the spot next to you. He nodded and did as you said. It was weird to talk to him again. Especially to hear his voice and for the first time notice the ways in which it resembled your son. A lot about him reminded you of your boy. His leg barely touched yours as he sat down, the bench being too small for both of you and your purse sitting beside you. You resisted the urge to flinch at the feeling of his touch. The last time he’d touched you had lead to a lot of tears, and the reason you hadn’t seen him in so long.

“Mommy,” You looked away from Thomas when you heard your little boy’s voice as he ran over to your bench, “I need a kleenex, please.”

“Of course, honey.” You dug through your purse until you found the travel size package of tissues and pulled one out for him.

“Thanks, Mom.” He said as he wiped his nose. “Ooh! Puppy!” He said excitedly when he noticed Maverick.

Both you and Thomas chuckled at his enthusiasm, “Can I please pet your dog, Mister?” He asked Thomas.

“Sure.” Thomas smiled. “His name is Maverick.”

You son grinned and began to pet Maverick, his tiny hands almost disappearing in Maverick’s long golden fur. “I didn’t know you had a son.” Thomas whispered to you.

“Uh, yeah.” You weren’t supposed to know. You added in your head. “He’s the only man I’ll ever love.” You said, smiling at the little boy despite the nerves bubbling up from your stomach.

“What’s your name?” Thomas asked him.

You bit down on your lip anxiously. You didn’t expect him to ask. You didn’t want him to know. “Tom.” The little boy said.

Thomas glanced at you before turning back to Tom. You were afraid of what the expression on his face would be, and were surprised to find his eyebrows drawn in, almost sad. Not angry or frustrated, but a strange wistfully sad look you would’ve never expected to see on Thomas. “That’s a really cool name.” He turned back to the little boy, “You know how I know that?”

Tom shook his head at Thomas, indicating he had no idea what the older man meant. “Because my name is Thomas, too.” Thomas said, winking at Tom, though he wouldn’t see it through the sunglasses sitting on Thomas’ nose.

“No way.” Tom gasped, turning to you with wide eyes. You smiled briefly at him, not wanting the tears pricking the corner of your eyes to roll down your cheeks in front of him. Not while Thomas was here anyway.

“How old are you?” Thomas asked. You would’ve said you noticed a little bit of shaking in his voice, but doubted it too much coming from Thomas. 

“Six.” Tom said, his attention quickly turning back to the dog.

“Oh.” Was all Thomas could say.

“You wanna meet for lunch?” You asked Thomas. “Next week? We can… catch up.”

He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing wide eyes that matched your own. “Yeah. Tuesday? Noon? Alfonzo’s?”

“I love Italian.”

“I know.”

“Are you guys going on a date?” Tom asked, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Um… not really.” You told him.

“We did that once and it didn’t really turn out the way I expected.” Thomas said, looking Tom up and down. “But I’m not necessarily unhappy with it.”

Okay wow, that got kinda long. I hope you like it though, that wasn’t too angsty, right? I’m sorry that took so long!

Prompt List and Instructions

Ask Box

Please send in a request, I’d love to work on some more of these!

[serkewen12]

Noooo I read the Thomas x Reader “Thanksgiving” story and now I’m crying. Can you make a Drabble of when they actually get a kid/pregnant/child 5 years old? Your choice I just don’t want that to be the end.

Sorry that this took me 10 million years to write. I hope you enjoy it. =)

Sequel to: Thanksgiving

“Here let me help you Thomas,” you commented as he grabbed multiple Easter baskets out of the backseat of your car.

“No don’t worry about it I got it,” he replied.

Throwing him a skeptical look as he carefully balanced all seven baskets that were for your niece and various younger cousins. After he had them all in his hands he looked at the car and grumbled as he tried to nudge the door shut. Laughing you went around the car and pushed the door shut.

“I hope you can make it up the stairs…”

Hurrying to the door of your parents house so you could open the door for him you were met by your dad. Giving him a quick hug you moved out of the way to make room for Thomas to get through the door. He sat down all the baskets and took a deep breath and smiled widely.

“We should of gotten you some bunny ears,” you smirked.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Thomas said cryptically.

“Kids! The Easter bunny has arrived,” your dad called out into the house.Excited squeals and foot steps could be heard from the living room as all the kids made their way to see. You sister quickly followed them and waved as all of the kids gave your both hugs and started to snoop around to see the baskets. They always loved all the personalized baskets you made them every year and were already asking which one was for them.

“Alright kids! You know better… no baskets until after dinner. Be patient,” she scolded, “That means you Ben!”

Ben pouted and made his way back into the living room followed by the other kids to finish watching their movie.

“Auntie I can have mine early?” You niece looked up at you both with the best puppy eyes the 4 year old could muster.

Kneeling down you said, “Now that wouldn’t be very fair now would it Sammy?”

“I s’pose not…”

“Don’t worry though the Easter bunny knows what things are your favorite,” you said with a wink.

As usually your mom had out done herself on a wonderful ham dinner with every side anyone could ever want and you spotted the pies on the counter when you had asked her if she needed any help finishing up and setting the table. You tried to not let your nerves show as you ate. Thomas debated basketball with your dad and brother in law and by the time dinner was winding down you were thankful your mother hadn’t questioned you both about children like she had a few months ago. If she had you weren’t sure how you would of handled it. Your mother had been to busy gossiping with your aunt and cousin about some drama with the neighbors to worry about your marriage and what you were up too at the moment.

Carrying some plates into the kitchen to help clear the table Thomas snaked his arms around you and gave you a kiss. 

“The kids are hovering around waiting for the baskets,” he commented.

“Well we shouldn’t keep them all waiting,” you said with a deep breath.

“Are you ready?”

“I wonder how they will react…”

“You should tell your sister to film them,” he whispered before walking away.

Drying your hands you looked up and saw your sister picking up Sammy and starting to head towards the rest of the family. 

“Hey,” you said hurrying over to catch her, “I made a special basket for Mom and Dad… could you film them opening it?”

“I guess? Why?” She eyed you carefully.

“It’s a surprise,” you said with a smirk.

Sitting on the couch you absentmindedly bounced your leg and you watched the kids all sit on the floor patiently waiting for Thomas to bring them their baskets. Thomas came around the corner dramatically with both arms full of baskets, a pair of fluffy white bunny ears poked out of his curls. You covered your mouth to hide your laughter when you saw the ears.

“Here you go Ben,” Thomas said handing out the baskets, “Tim, Jenny, Daphne, Chris, annnnd last but certainly not least Sammy.”

Thomas sat next to you and laced his fingers with yours and watched the kids excitedly rip into their baskets. Each of the baskets had all their favorite types of things. Ben loved sports so his had a basketball, new batting gloves, a jersey, and of course candy. Tim’s had various superhero action figures and comic books. Jenny excitedly held up her toy horses to show her mom who nodded in approval. Daphne was quietly looking though the new books in a series she had been reading while eating a piece of candy. Chris excitedly thanked you both for a whole bunch of new art supplies while talking about all the new drawings he was going to do. Sammy hugged onto her new baby doll and was laying out all the new doll clothes trying to decide what outfit she would try first.

“What do you say kids,” your aunt said.

“Thank you!!” They all chorused.

“You’re welcome,” you both said.

“Who’s that other basket for?” You mom asked curiously.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” you said feigning ignorance, “We made this one for you.”

Getting up you handed your mom the basket before sitting back down and shooting a glance at your sister who nodded and covertly pulled out her phone and started recording. 

“Oh sweetie you didn’t have to do this,” your mom said as she picked up a few of her favorite lotions and a bath bomb. 

“I think this is for me,” you dad said grabbing a few small fancy looking bottles “Is this the hot sauces you were telling me about Thomas?”

“It sure is… be careful with that,” he laughed, “You’re only supposed to use a few drops at a time.”

You bit your lip as they went through the basket getting closer to the main surprise you had put in it. Lifting up a few bars of chocolate your mom grabbed the card and pulled it out of the envelope and you saw her smile as she read the front. 

Thomas squeezed your hand as she opened it and her eyes went wide. For a moment her mouth hung open and then she let out an excited shriek and jumped up startling everyone. 

“IS THIS REAL? YOU TWO ARE GOING TO HAVE A BABY?!” She shouted while holding the ultrasound photo you had placed in the card. 

“Surprise,” you both said in unison.

[can-youimagine]

Could you please do a demon and angel au with Thomas Jefferson?♥️♥️ Ps I love you so much!

Drabble Day

Your wings wrap around you as you try to salvage any dignity you have. You shudder as you hear Thomas wake up. 

“Good morning,” he says. “Sleep well?”

When you don’t answer, he frowns. “Don’t be like that.”

“I want to go home.”

“And I will let you. Remember, I have your protection.”

“And I have yours.”

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 07 | thomas jefferson

title: freedom of the press 07

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: 15k

warnings: implied sex, mega jealousy, and heavy angst. that’s all for now im sorry for the ending </3

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudynblw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98 @nyxie75 @i-know-i-can @yxseminx @yavin4andor @sugacita @sstrawberry-fanta @youtxbemusic @queenwilty @someinsanefangirl @foudre-aqua @whatevs2000 @rwr-ites @maxi-ride @moose-on-the-l00se @itshaileyn @toxicidity @malos-moving @luckyfriesss @lovecass123

"THOMAS," Y/N MURMURED, fatigue heavy in her voice as she shook his sleeping body. "Thomas, c'mon, wake up."

He didn't move, and she sighed, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, shift his heavy arms from where they lay slung around her waist — the task was surprisingly difficult. His face still rested against her neck, and she began to tug harder at his forearms.

"Hey, come on, rise and shine," she huffed, and the frustration in her voice at her predicament was growing audible. When she could feel his smile widening against her skin, though, it became clear that his limbs weren't just unnaturally hefty and he wasn't the world's heaviest sleeper. He'd been awake the whole time, likely before she even had.

It'd been two weeks since Thomas had held his campaign event in Mira and Orlando's diner, and it'd been three days since her interview with John Adams. By now, they were 28 primaries deep, and it was almost irrefutable that Thomas would become the Republican presidential nominee come that summer's RNC.

She squirmed in his grasp, turning her head to look back at him, but he didn't let up. If anything, his arms tightened around her waist; his eyes didn't open. "I know you're awake," she said, her voice expectant. Still, he didn't budge. "Stop with the act. I want breakfast," she said, and though she was making an honest effort to sound stern, giggles pervaded her soft voice as he nuzzled his face into her neck.

"Shh, sweetheart, 'm still sleepin'," he grumbled, voice gruff despite his ever-broadening grin. "Go back to bed. 'S too early for breakfast."

"Thomas, it's 11 AM," she replied, and he cracked one eye open to see her skeptical stare. She couldn't hide her smile, either, though.

"'M not sure I follow your point." She rolled her eyes when his lips met the skin just below her ear, but she relaxed in his hold, tilting her head away as he began kissing down her jawline. "I've had a tirin' week; don't tell me you're really gonna try and deprive me of the little rest I get."

"Mmh, that I can understand, but I'm not sure you're making much of an effort to get back to sleep right now." Her voice was knowing, and when he chuckled, the vibrations of the sound, the tickle of his breath danced against her skin.

"Sure I am." She let out a squeak when he nipped at her earlobe. "'S not my fault you're distractin' me. You're not bein' very considerate, sweetheart."

"Shut up," she laughed, "I have places to be, you know. Keeping me trapped here may as well be actively sabotaging my career."

"Oh, so I should let you get up so you can get back to libelin' me in the papers?"

Y/N shifted in his arms, and that time he let her as she turned to face him, resting her hands on his chest. "Precisely."

As Thomas leaned in to kiss her, he let out a quiet huff of laughter, his hands trailing down to her hips. "And gimme one reason I should let you," he whispered against her lips.

She shrugged, giving a coy smile. "It's good for your publicity?"

That time, his laugh was full-bodied as he pushed her onto her back, resting on his forearm beside her head, and that time, she pulled him down to her with her arms looped around his neck. When their lips met, his hand slid under her where she lay, pressing up against the small of her back. Her grin widened against his, and his mouth fell to the skin of her neck, rising to leave the beginnings of a hickey just under her jawbone. She squealed, a hand tangling into his hair.

"Thomas!" She tried to scold him, but the lighthearted surprise in her voice abandoned her intention. "Thomas, you cannot give me a hickey there, c'mon."

Obligingly, his lips left her neck, but his grin was wide as his nose brushed along the bottom of her cheek. "Now, I don't see why not. You've got a couple of 'em elsewhere; what's wrong with this one?"

"You know what's wrong with it." That time, she managed to keep her voice even as she raised her eyebrows at him, pulling his head back up toward hers. "If I wanna be able to hide that, I'm gonna have to walk around in a ski mask."

"Aw, c'mon, sweetheart." His left hand rose from her waist to her cheek, his thumb sweeping across her cheekbone as his fingertips brushed the hair behind her ear. "You really that ashamed to be sleepin' with the future president?"

"'Future president'," she repeated with a huff of incredulous laughter, the sound almost a snort. "You're so fucking full of yourself."

"I've heard people say that confidence is sexy," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Maybe, but arrogance is kind of a turn-off." She gave an apologetic shrug, and as he shook his head with amusement, his smile was undeterred.

"I must be walkin' that line pretty well, then." His self-satisfaction permeated the entirety of his demeanor, and he kissed the corner of her mouth. "'Cause you've never seemed to mind."

"Oh my god, it is too early for your ego to already be this big," she groaned, shoving his shoulder, and though he rolled onto his back with little resistance, wearing a lazy grin, he pulled her with him, her hands resting on his shoulders and legs straddling his waist.

His hands ghosted across her hips. "Sorry, sweetheart, but really, you're the one feedin' my ego, so if you took some ownership of your actions, maybe we wouldn't have this problem."

She raised her eyebrows, eyeing him. "I'm feeding your ego? I have a few articles that'd beg to differ."

"I didn't say your writin' was." He shrugged, tracing circles into the skin of her lower back. "'S pretty unflatterin', really, but I'm above the haters."

"Then how am I inflating your ego?"

Despite how dubious her expectant expression remained, his smile broadened. "'Cause you keep comin' back here for more."

He didn't waste another moment before pulling her body back down against his, a hand resting at the nape of her neck as he leaned up to kiss her. She laughed against his lips and put up no resistance, not as he deepened it, not as his every action became more impatient, his every touch harsher. It was when he tried to push her back so he was above her that she pulled away.

"Nuh-uh." She shook her head, her voice stern despite how her chest was heaving, how she was struggling to catch her breath. "I'm getting up, Thomas. The options I gave you were to get some more sleep or to finally pull yourself together and be productive. Last I checked, neither of those included making out in your bed."

He frowned, but the look in his eyes was playful regardless. "You're just bein' uncreative."

Y/N rolled her eyes with an entertained smile as she climbed off of him, and despite the thinly-veiled disappointment in his expression (something that escaped her), he let her go easily.

"Where are you headed on a Saturday mornin' that's so urgent, anyway?" he asked, pursing his lips as he pushed himself off the side of his bed, standing and reaching down for the shirt he'd discarded onto his floor. She shrugged, pulling back on her jeans.

"I have an article I have to finish drafting by this evening. It's a bit longer than some of my others, and my editor's getting impatient."

There was a certain deliberacy in her not meeting his gaze, but it wasn't something he realized. "Yeah? What's it about?"

"The usual," she said, glancing back at him with a smile. "You."

He grinned. "Y'know, I can get you a meetin' with a primary source, if you want."

Her laugh at his words was light as she fixed the necklace she'd fallen asleep in, detangling it from her hair. "Might that meeting happen to be with you, right now?"

She raised an expectant eyebrow, and he huffed at her conviction as she pulled on her sweater. "'M gettin' too predictable, huh?"

"You still manage to keep me on my toes." Her reply was absentminded, her focus instead on the torn clasp of her bra, and she stuffed it into her purse with a disappointed sigh. "But really, I should be headed out. I have a feeling it won't be too long before I run into you again."

"Just can't stay away from me?" His gaze was teasing, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Not if I want to keep my job." She offered a wry smile. "And considering the benefits that apparently come with it, I'm not about to give it up."

"Glad to hear I'm invaluable."

"Keep telling yourself that."

__________

"...ANG?"

"HM?"

"HAVE you ever written an article that you felt like you shouldn’t publish?"

Y/N glanced back at her roommate from her spot on the couch, holding a red pen and a hard copy of the article she'd drafted the night prior. She'd promised her editor it'd be sent in by midnight, and there she sat, twenty hours later, agonizing over the writing with her sweatpants and a bowl of ramen.

Angelica shrugged.

"I dunno. Maybe?" She walked over from the kitchen, leaning on the back of the couch as she glanced down at her. "What's the article about?"

"It doesn't matter." Y/N was quick to turn it over, hiding the headline before Angelica could catch anything more than the words 'Family Values.' Angelica raised an eyebrow. "But... I just don't know if it's the type of thing I want to be writing."

"I'm going to need more information than that, honey." She came around to join Y/N on the couch with her own mug of tea. Y/N sighed.

"I've just been feeling lately like Ashley wants me to become a gossip columnist, or something. I want to write real news, my own analyses. Not some bullshit modern-day yellow journalism."

At that, Angelica groaned. "I got the same spiel when she was my editor, too. That's why I changed departments."

Y/N raised a brow. "Seriously?"

As she fiddled absentmindedly with her stack of papers, folding the article in her lap, Angelica shrugged, gave a halfhearted nod. "I didn't have much of a choice, as I saw it. Ashley doesn't really care about content; she cares about readers. She'll always do anything for more of them."

"But I like covering politics," Y/N sighed. "I just don't like doing it like this."

"You aren't leaving yourself too many options, there."

"I know." She picked her laptop back up from the coffee table, swallowing thickly, and she eyed her drafted PDF. "But I've worked too hard for all of this to just give it up, and I love what I do at the Post."

"So what's the plan?"

"Hm?" She glanced up, her preoccupied gaze having fallen to the page of John Adams's grim soliloquy. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what are you going to tell Ashley? You can't avoid her forever," Angelica pointed out. "You still have to go in to work tomorrow, so you've gotta have something to give her."

She drew in a shaky breath as she minimized the tab of her article, beginning to resent staring at the double-spaced, Times New Roman void that'd long since begun to stare back. "I'll probably just dig something up about James Madison's time in Congress. I'm sure there's some era of his voting history I've yet to dramatize."

"I'm sure she’ll love it," Angelica replied in a dry tone, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Lights, camera, James Madison votes 'nay' on impeachment. What an absolute riot it'll be."

Y/N rolled her eyes at the brash skepticism. "I know that's not what she's looking for, but it'll tide her over until I can figure out what to do with my draft."

"C'mon, what's it say? Just tell me; it can't be that bad," Angelica reasoned, tipping her mug in Y/N's direction (and ignoring the teaspoon of Earl Gray that sloshed over its side). "You were so eager to interview John Adams — what'd he tell you that you don't want to publish?"

"It's not... that bad. It'd be front-page news," she said, lips pursed. Her tone was hesitant. "The problem is, Adams couldn't give me anything to corroborate his claims. I have no way of knowing whether this is literally libel."

"Give it over." Angelica reached for the folded draft Y/N held in her lap, at which she raised an eyebrow. "What am I going to do with it, Y/N? I just can't give you any advice without context."

She handed it to her reluctantly, and the silence sat heavy atop her shoulders for the next few minutes. Angelica was skimming the article, collecting the main points and glossing over the rest, but every time Angelica's eyebrows jumped, so did Y/N's pulse. She swallowed hard as Angelica reached the final paragraph. She folded it back up, and just sat there a moment, took a deep breath. Finally—

"Wow," Angelica breathed. "You're right. That would be front-page news."

"I know."

"So what's the sticking place?"

"I just feel like..." Y/N trailed off, doing her best to pinpoint the source of her hesitation. "What Adams told me was years ago. He couldn't tell me anything about it happening again, and it feels so cheap to try and drag up Thomas's past like this now that he's broken away from it."

Angelica didn’t comment on her using his first name, although she raised an eyebrow. "But if you find out it's all true, then there's no harm. Not to you, anyway — unless you care about hurting Jefferson's feelings."

Sarcasm was lain thick in Angelica's words, but they made Y/N flinch. "It just isn't relevant to the election, and I hate to think it could affect it despite that. I don't want to be the kind of reporter that publishes things like this."

"But if he's done it before, who's to say he won't again? Who's to say he isn't already?" Angelica asked, and Y/N was struggling to hold her tongue — she was to say he wasn't; she would know; by then, wasn't she as good as a primary source?

When she didn't respond, Angelica shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Y/N. I get your hesitation, but honestly, there are worse things to publish than an exposé on Thomas Jefferson's harrowing past."

She glanced over at her, eyed Y/N's troubled expression with her lips pursed. "I think this is a decision only you can make. Only you know what kind of reporter you want to be."

_____________

THE NEXT NIGHT was the first time in weeks that Y/N had told her friends she was going to Lafayette's place and then actually went to Lafayette's place. He was at the stove when she arrived, making himself dinner, and he'd left the door unlocked for her, shouting to 'come in!' when she knocked.

"So, am I allowed to ask why it is zat you so urgently needed me?" He glanced back at her over his shoulder when she greeted him, shrugging her jacket off, but he didn't seem to have any patience for pleasantries.

"I never said I 'urgently needed you'," Y/N defended, brow furrowed as she took a seat at his kitchen counter. "I just want to talk."

Lafayette deadpanned as he turned to her, eyeing her skeptically. Apparently, her unease was obvious. "Why do you want to talk to me, Y/N?" he asked, voice flat. He folded his arms when she raised her eyebrows.

When she paused, his skepticism escalated, and she sighed. "I came to ask for advice. I'm trying to figure something out for my job."

"Oui?" He furrowed his brow as he turned to join her, taking a seat across the counter and leaving his food to simmer. Y/N nodded.

She eyed him warily when the silence between them stretched on, hesitant to ask her next question, but she was delaying the inevitable. She said in a small voice, "Can I ask you about Thomas's past?"

Lafayette's eyebrows shot up. "His past? What for?"

"An article, of course." Y/N sounded unfairly disgruntled as she let out a huff. "It's... a problematic piece. I met with a source who asked to remain unnamed, and I'm having trouble corroborating what he told me; it seems so tabloid-y. I was hoping you could give me some kind of insight into whether it’s true."

He folded his arms, contemplative gaze averted to the countertop, and gave a slow nod. "I see. What 'as your source told you?"

Y/N hesitated, before reaching for her bag. "D'you know about Thomas's late fiancée?"

"Martha?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up. Y/N nodded reluctantly. "What could zis possibly 'ave to do with 'er?"

"It's not about her, but..." She trailed off, but after a moment, she sighed, withdrawing a printed copy of the article from her bag. "She's a factor in the story. Here, just read it. You'll understand why I'm so hesitant to move forward with publishing."

"Alright."

Several minutes passed in radio silence after she slid him her draft. Ultimately, his reaction bore very little difference from Angelica's.

"Wow." Instead of the shock Y/N had received from her best friend, Lafayette's tone was of flat disappointment. He let out a heavy sigh. "I did know about all of zis, but I am not sure I understand why your source is bringing it up now. You do know zat Thomas 'as not done any of zat in years, non?"

"I mean, I know he isn't doing it right now, but to be honest..." Y/N trailed off with a shrug. "I haven't known him all that long. I don't know how recently he stopped, and I don't know if he'd ever do it again."

"Let us look at zis logically, hm?" Lafayette said, passing her back the papers. "I understand why you would want to publish zis, but I hesitate to tell you zat is what you should do. What do you gain from putting zis in ze paper?"

"Well, the benefits are pretty obvious," she said, her gaze downcast, and Lafayette sat with his patient, gentle concern. "This would be a big story. It'd be a major career booster; I might even be able to leave my job and find a higher-paying one. Otherwise, I could probably leverage it for a raise. It could solve so many of my money problems."

"Zat does seem rather nice," he agreed softly, but they were both aware there was more to the story.

"I know," she groaned, slumping on his counter, and she wore a guilty frown. She didn't meet his eyes. "But I just... don't know if that's the right choice."

"So what is 'olding you back?" Lafayette leaned onto the counter, a brow raised, and Y/N met his gaze.

"I … don't know if I can do that to Thomas. I mean, he's running for president, sure, but at the end of the day, he's just a person," she said, and sympathy laced Lafayette's gaze. "He told me about his fianceé, actually. I know this is a really, really sensitive subject, and it feels wrong to publish it."

"When did you talk to Thomas about 'er?"

"More than a month ago, now." She swallowed. "I was, um, telling him about someone I'd lost, and he told me about how she died when he was younger. It made me feel less alone; I don't want to betray his trust like this. I... don't wanna lose him, after all that."

"So you are worried about 'urting 'im?" Lafayette asked softly, tilting his head to one side, and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

"How could I not be?" she retorted, shoulders tense. "On top of outright airing his dirty laundry, it'd force him to address such a tragedy with the entirety of the American public."

A beat passed, and Lafayette was hesitant to voice his thoughts, but Y/N's mind was racing, dragging her back down to the frustrated, guilty headspace she'd been unable to escape over the past few days. Finally, Lafayette broke the silence.

"You really care about protecting Thomas, do you not?" he said quietly, and as she didn't reply, it seemed he'd hit the mark. "Chérie, if you care about 'im like zat, I think you are going to need to sort it out before you go any further with zis article."

"Wait, what d'you mean, 'care about him like that'?" Y/N echoed. "We're friends, Lafayette. Usually, I try not to put my friends through this kind of grief."

"Only friends?" he asked, a brow raised. He folded his arms as he met her dead stare.

"Yes." She scowled, folding up the article and tucking it back into a folder. "This isn't about my relationship with him; it's about me trying to be a decent human being. I'd do the same if this article were about you, y'know."

He wore a small smile; her frustrated insistence had become defensive. "Mmh, perhaps, but it would not be for ze same reasons."

"Shut up; yes it would," she mumbled. Her cheeks burned. "You're making this deeper than it is. It's a question of my journalistic integrity. That's it."

"Zat was not ze impression I was getting while you were going on about 'not wanting to lose 'im'."

"Can you stop making fun of me and just give me some advice?" She huffed, but he could only laugh.

"Of course," he said, resting a hand on her arm in an effort to placate her, but she rolled her eyes. "I believe zat it comes down to what you truly think is right, honestly, but as far as I can tell, you 'ave less to gain zan you 'ave to lose by publishing zis."

Her weary sigh was beyond heavy; defeat was strung across her shoulders. Publishing the article might be the wrong choice, but living as she was, hardly paying her bills and struggling to stay afloat with her student debt, working two jobs to make ends meet, the benefits were tempting. "Of course you'd say that," she said. He raised an affronted brow. "You're French nobility by birth. You have no idea what it's like to be broke, do you?"

He paused. "Non," he said. "I do not. And I will not stand 'ere and tell you zat Thomas is more important zan your job. But please, Y/N, remember zat you 'ave many friends who would be willing to support you through financial troubles. Myself included."

"Can you even imagine how shitty it feels to be dependent on everyone around me?" Y/N asked, and Lafayette pursed his lips. "I already feel so guilty for my godparents cutting me a deal on rent. But if I get to a point where I can't even afford that, I'm fucked. My car's already a piece of junk, and the brakes are so worn-out that it's a wonder I haven't gotten into a wreck yet. I need to, at least, be able to afford somewhere to live."

"But you would 'ave ze same income if you chose not to publish zis," he countered, and she sighed.

"I don’t think I would, actually. My editor's pissed about me not following through with an article from this interview—" She motioned to the papers, "—and she's been dropping thinly-veiled threats about transferring me to another department. Having to start over in an entirely new area of reporting, my pay is going to drop."

A beat passed as Lafayette considered her, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.

"Listen, Y/N, no matter what choice you make, I will not judge you," he ultimately said, "but if you go through with publishing zis, Thomas will almost certainly be unable to forgive you."

"I know," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "But I love my job. I love being able to report on the presidential election, be in the thick of everything. The position is more than just a paycheck, and the fact that it's in jeopardy hurts. As much as I hate to say it, I'm not sure if I can justify putting Thomas before my career."

"You do not 'ave to," he assured her, "but you asked for my opinion. And I do not think zat you should put zis in print."

A long moment passed in silence. He was right; she knew he was right, that this article could come back to bite her, but every time she thought about how often she had to crank down the heat in her apartment to lower her utilities bill, or the nights she’d count her tips from the diner down to the penny with the desperate hope that they’d put her student loan payment over the top, she found herself entertaining the possibility nonetheless.

"Thank you," she finally said, "Really. I just need some time to think. I need to sort this out for myself."

"I trust your judgment." Lafayette's answer was almost too generous considering the circumstance; nausea was settling into the pit of her stomach as he offered her a gentle smile. "But... is zere any chance you would be willing to consider bringing zis up to Thomas, if only for ze sake of clarity? I would hate to 'ear zat it did not represent 'is true experience."

"I..." The sentence was intended to be 'I can't.' Talking to him would multiply the guilt lain heavy across her shoulders, but Lafayette was right - were this about anyone else, she'd confront them without a second thought. But if she told Thomas about the article, even if it was true down to the last letter, she wouldn't have the heart to publish it. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. But right now, I don't feel like I can face him."

"You should do it before you send it in."

"And I will," she said, the words carrying a surprising air of finality. "But this has me feeling... too conflicted; I don't even know how I'm gonna deal with him showing up at the diner during my shift tomorrow."

"Can you not get someone else to cover ze shift?" he asked, and she pursed her lips, resting her head in her hands.

"Yeah, you don't get it. I live in the flat above the diner, so they'll just come upstairs and drag me out of bed in the morning," she said. "It's a no-win situation."

He paused, before offering, "If you want, you could stay 'ere overnight, just until your shift ends." Her eyebrows shot up.

"Wait, seriously?"

He shrugged. "You did not cause me too much trouble ze last time you stayed ‘ere, so I do not think zere would be any issue."

She hesitated, eyeing him as if looking for some ulterior motive, but when she (finally) accepted the authenticity of the suggestion, she answered, "That'd be excellent. Thank you."

"It is my pleasure, truly," he said, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile. "But can I offer you pajamas? To each their own, but I, for one, would not be eager to sleep in those jeans."

She laughed at the quip, his light tone putting her at ease. "That’d be great."

"Alright, give me one moment."

As he retreated from the kitchen, disappeared down the hall back to his bedroom, Y/N stuffed her article back into her purse, zipping it shut — out of sight, out of mind. Instead of dwelling, she kicked off her shoes by his door, went to curl up on his couch with her phone. Casting her guilty conscience aside would only last another minute or two.

The door to Lafayette's apartment clicked open.

Y/N's head shot up in surprise as heavy footsteps came in without a moment of hesitation. He didn't see her at first, not as he circled back to lock the door behind him, but the identity of the man who’d just walked in was unmistakable. He turned; as he surveyed the apartment, his and Y/N's eyes met, and Thomas Jefferson stood before her — it seemed she'd made the mistake of speaking of the devil, as, serendipitously, there he appeared.

Though he furrowed his brow, a grin split his expression. "Y/N?" he asked, tucking his phone into his pocket. "Hey, what're you doin' here?"

"Oh, I um..." Her smile was hesitant. "I just dropped by to say hi to Lafayette. What are you doing here?"

His smile drooped almost imperceptibly at her accusatory tone. "Just came over to see if I could borrow his laptop real quick. My charger broke, and I'm tryin' to send a couple files."

"Oh," was all she answered with. A moment passed in silence, then; she wasn't sure how to proceed when all she could focus on was the mounting guilt she carried on her shoulders, but she didn't break his gaze, and he nodded to the couch.

"Mind if I join you?"

Her relief at his breaking the silence was written across her face — she wore a grateful smile, gave a small nod. "Please."

When the couch dipped on her left, she took a deep breath, desperate to clear her head as she averted her eyes from him. When she turned back to him, though, she didn't find Thomas by her side, but instead seated with a cautious degree of space between them, his legs propped up on the ottoman. He was too far to unwittingly come into contact with her, for her to bump into his shoulder, for her to inadvertently brush her leg against his as she turned on the couch, but he was close enough that she could’ve. Her fingers twitched in her lap.

"So where's Laf, then?" he asked, turning his head toward her, and as she pulled her legs up onto the couch, she shifted in her seat, leaning against its back to face him.

"He's just back in his room," she said, and she had to bite her tongue before she could elaborate on why. "He, um, probably won't be long. He was just here."

A moment passed in silence as Thomas watched her, but she didn't say another word. "Alright," he finally said, but he paused before he asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Hm?" Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. Her gaze had drifted toward Lafayette's rug, away from Thomas. She didn't meet his eyes. "I mean, yeah, of course; why wouldn't it be?"

She offered him a tight smile, but apparently, he was just a shade too perceptive for her.

"You seem... preoccupied, sweetheart," he said, and concern was etched into his raised eyebrow. "Did somethin' happen?"

"Nothing; don't worry," she assured him, though the easygoing expression she wore was shallow.

"You really don't think I know you well enough to see right through that?" His disbelief was clear in his voice, too, but had it not expanded the weight of her guilt on her shoulders, his easy confidence that he could read her like a book would've softened her.

She frowned. "You don't have to sound so suspicious. Maybe you just don't know me as well as you think."

"'Suspicious'?" he repeated in disbelief, letting out a dry laugh. "Sorry, then. 'M not tryin' to grill you, I was just concerned." Her eyes were fixed on the four feet of space between them on the couch, and he still wore a tentative smile.

The way he watched her, eyeing her figure, the way she shifted in her poorly-suppressed agitation, was reminiscent of the hesitation on his face when he'd found her weeks before in that very room, clad only in a towel and a fading hickey, and proceeded to accuse her of sleeping with Lafayette. She wasn't fond of the parallel.

"Well, relax, then," she said. "Everything's just fine."

"If you say so.”

She couldn't remember having ever been so on-edge around him — not during Washington's state dinner, all those months back; not in Detroit after the debates; not even the fateful night when he'd showed up to her diner three minutes before closing — and she didn’t like the feeling one bit. She was painstakingly aware of where her printed article was tucked away in relation to their spots on the couch.

"Anyway, what've you and Laf been up to all evenin'?" Thomas asked, and the way he was watching her had annoyance compounding. Her focus was shifting from her article to the bitter trace in his voice. "Hope I'm not here... interruptin' anything."

"Not at all," she said firmly. "Like I said, we've just been talking."

"...Gotcha."

She didn't cherish the unsteady silence that fell between them, though, despite making no move to fill it. Maybe coming to Lafayette's had been a mistake.

To her relief, though, that was the moment Lafayette chose to re-emerge from the hall where his bedroom was, a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants (the same ones that she'd all but repossessed when she lived there) in hand. Upon seeing Thomas seated beside Y/N, though, he discarded them onto his kitchen counter, eyebrows raised as he approached them. The notable distance between them gave him pause, too.

"Ah, Thomas, it is good to see you," he said, tone unequivocally warm, but he paused before asking, "What brings you to my 'umble 'ome?"

Y/N snorted at his calling the luxury penthouse in any way "humble," but Thomas didn't regard it.

"Just stoppin' by to see if I can borrow your laptop?" Lafayette cocked his head to one side, and Thomas went on, "There are a couple files in my Google Drive I need to send, and my charger's broken. New one doesn't come in the mail till tomorrow. But if the two of you are, well, busy..."

Talk about beating a dead horse. We get it, Thomas. Shift your tunnel vision, please.

"Non. Non, of course, let me go get it. Give me another moment," Lafayette said, but before he left, he turned to Y/N with the stack of clothing he'd discarded on the counter, passing it off to her as he continued toward his office. "And 'ere are ze clothing zat you requested, chérie."

Thomas caught her gaze with a curious brow raised: apparently, Lafayette and Y/N sharing sweatpants wasn't helping her case that they were just there “talking.” She swallowed her grimace.

"Actually, Laf, I appreciate it, but I should probably go." Lafayette paused at her words, turning around with a frown as she stood up with an apologetic smile. "It was good to see you, though."

"I thought that you were staying over ze night," he said, brow furrowed. Thomas's reaction to that wasn't subtle, either, his jaw tense, and her smile was turning into more of a wince.

"No, I mean, I'd better not," she said, giving a halfhearted shrug. "You know I've got my shift at the diner in the morning, and I won't get up early enough to drive back across town before it starts, so really, I should be going."

She had begun to back herself away toward the kitchen, having pulled her purse back onto her shoulder.

"It is 'ardly five in the afternoon. You can still stay longer, then, no?" Lafayette asked, folding his arms.

"I really shouldn't," she said hurriedly, offering little explanation. "I don't want to impose, anyway."

"You would not be imposing. Do not worry," he assured her, but glancing between her and Thomas, a sly smile split his expression. "Thomas, you should stay for dinner as well. It would be nice."

'Nice' was not a word Y/N would've used for it. In a few short minutes, her stay at Lafayette's penthouse had turned from an escape from facing Thomas in the morning into an evening trapped in with him.

"I appreciate the offer, but that's alright," Thomas said. Y/N glanced at him. "I'll give you two the night to yourselves."

At that, she let out a heavy sigh but plastered on a stiff, apologetic expression. "That's not necessary. I was just leaving, anyway. I really should get back to the diner."

Thomas eyed her with heavy skepticism in his gaze. "Yeah? You don't have a shift tonight."

"How would you know that?" Y/N asked, looking him up and down, and despite everything, he cracked a small grin.

"Didn't I say I was gonna learn your schedule, sweetheart?"

A moment passed in silence, and when Thomas raised a playful eyebrow, Y/N couldn't help but smile, pursing her lips in an effort to abate it. "You're still on that?" she asked, and he shrugged. "You're ridiculous."

"You don't seem to mind." He sent her a wink, and while she rolled her eyes, her smile was unbridled.

Meanwhile, Lafayette was watching the interaction with a brow raised, entertained grin playing at his lips. "Are you sure you would not like to both stay for dinner? I was planning on making pasta."

While they'd both glanced up at the sound of Lafayette's voice, at the question, their gazes fell back to one another, both hesitant, both questioning. The silence was drawn-out, but Y/N was the one who decided to break it.

"As much as I'd love to, I really do have work to get done tonight." Her voice was soft as she walked back to where she'd slung her jacket over one of the chairs in Lafayette's kitchen. "Thanks for having me, Lafayette."

"I'm gonna get goin', too." Thomas's actions were hasty as he stood, giving Lafayette a small smile before following Y/N toward his door. Lafayette folded his arms.

"I thought that you needed my laptop."

He paused. "Yeah, 'bout that, I decided I'm gonna go out and buy myself a new charger, instead." His gaze flickered back to Y/N, who was watching him with a brow raised, a small smile playing at her lips as she stood by the door, hesitant to turn the handle. "After all, I can't be comin' over here every time I need your computer. Thanks, though."

"Did you not say you ordered—?"

"Bye, Lafayette." When Thomas spoke that time, it was firm, and Lafayette knew enough to take a hint, backing off with his hands raised in mock surrender. "The offer's real nice, though."

By then, Y/N had made her way out, the conversation between the pair of them falling to the outer range of her earshot as the penthouse door began to fall shut behind her. She was walking down the hall, her pace slow as she focused on re-buttoning her jacket, when she heard heavy footsteps approach behind her, too distinct to mistake. She pursed her lips and glanced back.

Thomas had pulled the door back open just before it'd clicked shut, headed after Y/N but seemingly in no rush (or, otherwise, confident she'd wait for him).

"So, suddenly sending those files isn't much of an urgent matter?" Y/N had stopped in her path when she saw him heading her way, and though her tone was teasing, her small smile was in earnest. He shrugged, the picture of nonchalance.

"I've gotta learn to be self-sufficient at some point, now, don't I?"

"Awfully convenient timing."

"Isn't it?" He grinned as he reached her side, and she rolled her eyes while they continued toward the elevator. "Gimme a break, though; I needed an excuse to get outta the house for a while. I've been inside editing speeches and runnin' numbers for the past couple days."

"And so you decided to follow me out," she said matter-of-factly, glancing at him as they crossed the hall.

"That's exactly what I did. No need to harp on it," he said, and though she wanted to huff at his words, she instead found herself swallowing an endeared smile.

"Hope you didn't leave on my account."

"And I hope you didn't leave on mine." His dry tone had her furrowing her brow, and when she met his eyes, his gaze was expectant. "Think I heard something about you plannin' to 'stay the night' back there?"

She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks; her skin burned. While she'd seen Thomas's reactions to Lafayette's words just minutes before, she hadn't been expecting to be confronted with them so abruptly (particularly because she'd been there trying to avoid Thomas in the first place). "It's not what you think. I was planning on crashing, but I don't have my work phone on me, and there's a lot I need to get done tonight."

"Oh, yeah? Can I give you a ride home?"

"That's alright," she said. "I drove myself here, so I have my car with me."

"So you're not gonna take me up on an opportunity to spend some more time together?" He arched a playful eyebrow, and the tension had melted from his gaze. His skepticism about Lafayette was no longer visible, at least. Y/N wore a small, soft smile that was threatening to split her expression into a grin. "I'm hurt, really.

"As tempting as it is," she replied, "I'm parked illegally."

"Whatta shame."

"Mhm. I'll have to remember to Uber next time."

"Next time I pull you away from spendin' the night with Lafayette, you mean?" he asked, and the teasing bite to his voice was edging closer and closer to bitterness. Her smile fell flat.

"Not what I had in mind," Y/N replied dryly. "Anyway, like I said: it isn't like that."

Thomas's stare was all disbelief — no degree of his suspicion had faded, apparently. "Then what's it like, Y/N?"

"I was just trying to skip my morning shift. Stop reading into things."

"And you couldn't have, I dunno, just stayed home tomorrow?"

"I live above the diner, Thomas." She wanted to scoff. "If I'd stayed home, Mira would've just come to get me."

"You could've come spent the night over at my place."

"What's the difference?" She pressed the 'down' button on the elevator, and as they came to a stop, she looked up at him. "You were working, anyway."

"I coulda taken a break, for you," he insisted as he knocked his elbow into hers, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"What's your problem with me staying over with Lafayette, hm?" she asked. "I don't think it's any of your business, regardless of what I was doing there."

"Don't be like that," he said with a sigh, "You know why I'm askin'."

"That doesn't make it a fair question."

The elevator came; they both entered it, and after its doors slid shut, the proximity was stifling, almost claustrophobic, but it was moving at an astoundingly slow pace as it descended through the tens of floors below Lafayette's and Thomas's penthouses. Thomas glanced down at Y/N.

"So are you tellin' me you and him are a thing, then?" he asked. She scoffed.

"God, why are you so concerned about this? Can you relax?"

“All I’m askin’ for is a straight answer.”

“Lafayette and I aren’t together.” The standoff that followed was unnecessary, and when he didn’t respond, she went on. “But that said, even if we were, it wouldn’t be your business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it?”

“No.” His silence told her that he was waiting for an explanation. “We aren’t together, either, in case you’d forgotten.”

A beat passed. “No, I guess we aren’t.” He turned away from her, glancing at the floor number as they came to a stop. “But I’m allowed to care, sweetheart.”

“This isn’t caring. It’s being nosy.” She sighed. “Listen, I like you, Thomas, but I have a million other things going on in my life that don’t involve you. Can’t you stop prying?”

“I’m not tryin’ to pry.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Oh, gimme a break,” he scoffed. “Like you wouldn’t care if I was sleepin’ with other women?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m serious,” she defended. “Who you’re screwing is your business. I mean, as long as you let me know when one of them gets an STD.”

She meant the last part as a joke, but Thomas wasn’t amused. “So what I’m hearin’ is to watch my mail for a doctor’s note sayin’ one of the guys you’re sleepin’ with put me at risk of herpes?”

“Thomas, I’m kidding.” He rolled his eyes. They heard the ping that told them the elevator doors were about to open. “You’re not seriously mad about this, are you? I’m not sleeping around.”

“Well, that’s none of my business, is it?” he said, and Y/N furrowed her brow.

“I mean, no, but...” she trailed off, looking up at him as they left the elevator together. “I really don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Then you don’t need to.” His jaw was set, and he didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t say anything, and finally, he glanced down at her. “I’ll see you around, Y/N. Take good care of that life of yours I’m not a part of.”

She didn’t know then that this was the last thing he’d say to her for the next three weeks.

___________

SHE DIDN'T SEE Thomas at the diner the next morning.

In fact, she didn’t see him at all for two weeks after that, let alone talk to him. She didn't reach out to him, and he didn't reach out to her. They were both sharply aware of the other's absence.

And they both knew it was intentional, at least on their own part, but Y/N didn’t realize it went both ways. For her, it was guilt — she moved around her schedule at the diner, swapped shifts whenever she could, but some small part of her desperately hoped he'd text her. Being around him would make the stress weighing on her heavier, but she dearly wanted the reassurance that he still had any interest in seeing her.

The closest thing she received to that reassurance was a registration confirmation for her spot at his next press conference.

Thomas had seemingly grown fond of closed events — the fewer reporters and the smaller the venue, the more exclusive the information becomes. Y/N didn't mind, either. By that point in the election cycle, she was beyond sick of having to shove her way through crowds of tabloid "journalists" and locals from whatever small Midwestern swing-state town was hosting the campaign's major rallies.

But she also knew very well that, given the limited scope of the events, Thomas had to approve the list of registrations himself. Of course, she'd have been wildly offended if he'd turned her away, but the fact that he didn't, at least, was something.

Regardless, small press conferences were much more Y/N's style. They left her with much more personal space; they were cozier, more intimate (as though she had any shortage of intimacy with the man about to take center stage). In the conference room Thomas had rented out that afternoon, she actually had somewhere to put her laptop and notepad, an environment where she could focus, all but entirely free of distraction—

"Y/N L/N?"

...What was that about 'free of distraction'?

She sighed internally as she turned to whoever had apparently spotted her with little trouble, but when she met his eyes, it wasn't the burden she'd been expecting.

"Ben?" A small smile broke through her stony expression, and he answered it with one of his own. "Hey, it's been a minute. I didn't know you were going to be here."

"To be fair, you didn't ask."

"Touché," Y/N laughed as he reached the empty seat beside her, raising an eyebrow.

"Saving this for anyone?" His fingers drummed on the back of the rolling chair, and she shrugged.

"Well, it was available, but I just found out someone I know is coming to this press conference, so I think it's kinda reserved for him now."

He rolled his eyes. "You just found out I was here."

She pursed her lips when he gave her a pointed look, and when he raised an eyebrow, a half-hearted scowl broke through her facade. "Am I that transparent?" He shrugged, wearing a smug smile, and she rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, you win. Have a seat."

"Why, thank you," he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice as he pulled the chair out for himself. "You're the nicest."

"I do try," Y/N responded, and Ben couldn't help his smile.

"So what’s your agenda, today, then?" He looked up at her as he took a seat, withdrew his laptop from his satchel.

"Though it may surprise you," she began, "I didn't actually come today with much of a plan. I'm thinking I'll just let things play out however they will."

"Living on the edge these days?"

"Something like that." She gave him a small smile as she pulled up an empty Google Doc, and from where she was sitting, she couldn't see how Ben was watching her, but if they cared enough to look, the rest of the room could. Only one person cared enough to look.

"Glad to hear it," he said, and when she glanced back at him, the mischief dancing in his smile made her apprehensive. "I have always liked a woman who takes some risks."

Y/N was visibly taken aback, and he seemed to be enjoying it. "Oh, really?"

"What can I say?" He shrugged, and though she was fighting a losing battle against the heat rising up the back of her neck, she wore a small smile. "There's even something undeniably sexy about seeing people leave entire sections of their planners blank."

At that, she scowled, but there was no bite to it. "Don't make fun of me. I don't even own a planner."

He feigned surprise, wiggling his eyebrows. "Ooh, even better. Keep talking; tell me about all the files you haven't backed up, either."

"Alright, that's about enough outta you," she scolded him, face burning by then, but his laugh set her at ease. "I never claimed to be some sort of daredevil."

"Mmh, see, now you're just killing the mood," he said matter-of-factly. Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I was getting really into that, alright? You haven't even started telling me about how disorganized your underwear drawer—"

"I said enough," she cut him off with a pointed look, but amusement permeated her poorly-suppressed smile. "This is neither the time nor the place, and you very well know it."

He quirked a brow. "So there's a time and a place where you would want to hear all this? I can make that happen, just—"

"Ben, I'm serious." The laugh in her voice did little to dissuade him.

"—let me know when, and I'll be right over."

"Ben."

"I don't know about you, but I'm free the rest of the afternoon when I leave here, so—"

Everyone's heads snapped to the front of the room, though, when Thomas cleared his throat, and Ben cut himself off, throwing Y/N a sheepish smile. As the rest of the room's chatter subsided, though, he leaned back in toward her, adding in a low voice, "so give me a call if you're looking to get really risky."

She elbowed Ben when he winked dramatically, her lips pursed in a frail attempt to hide her smile. "Shh."

"Thank you all for bein' here this afternoon." When Thomas spoke, the room fell silent, and when Y/N turned back in her seat to face him, she found his eyes fixed on her. His casual expression was as measured as his tone, but when he paused a moment, she felt certain she was the only one who'd caught the strain in his smile.

He turned away from her as he continued speaking, but his words hardly processed with her. Instead, her focus was on the thinly-veiled glare he wore every time his gaze brushed over Ben’s seat; her focus was on the way he adamantly avoided looking in her direction, meeting her eyes. Her focus was on how she seemed to have become invisible to him in just a few short minutes, and as fixated on that as she was, she didn’t realize Thomas had opened the floor for questions until all the reporters around her started throwing rapid-fire questions out at him. Her eyebrows shot up.

With that, the press conference began to drone on for the two hours that followed.

Y/N couldn't complain about being there for as long as she was; for once, she could report on an event without reporters yelling over one another and cutting each other off as they scrambled to get their questions in.

Despite this, the notes she took were sparse. For the rest of the time she was there, Thomas didn't meet her eyes even once; however, his cordial manner didn't disguise from her the severity of his gaze whenever Ben piped up to ask him a question. This would've raised eyebrows had she not been the only one who noticed, and she had a theory or two as to why he seemed so cold.

As such, Y/N left with very little new information about Thomas's campaign, but she did learn two new key tidbits: first, that Thomas's favorite movie was Die Hard (a reporter from Teen Vogue had asked, and Y/N consequently wondered why they were there), and second, that he could be impressively petty.

She didn't ask many questions, either — not after how he regarded her when she did. Not only did he ignore her attempting to break into the conversation until she was talking over the man who sat three seats to her left, but when he addressed her, he was short with her, his words blunt and formal. He didn't even meet her eyes. Only after she noticed the sideways glances he kept stealing at Ben — who was concurrently murmuring something to Y/N, and whether it made her roll her eyes or elbow his side, her smile was unmistakable — did she realize the cause and effect at play.

Simply put, Thomas was beyond tense.

And for Y/N, the afternoon was a grand waste of time.

___________

"SECRETARY JEFFERSON!"

HE shuffled them all out of the conference room a little while after 6 PM, and in the building's lobby stood another crowd of reporters all ready to intercept Thomas the minute he emerged. He met them with a bright smile, waving, shaking hands and taking questions as he went on.

Y/N tried to push through the masses to him, lips pursed. "Secretary Jefferson, d'you have—?"

He was too far gone to hear her, and as she waded further into the crowd toward him with a huff, he kept growing further from her. "Mr. Jefferson, I—"

Right when she neared his side, her effort to get his attention was adamant, and for a moment, he glanced over at the sound of her voice. Their eyes met. Y/N figured he'd pause upon realizing she was there, but rather, his reaction was quite the opposite: he'd no sooner seen her than turned to the journalist on his other side, disregarding her. For a moment, she almost questioned whether he'd realized she was there.

Her scowl was deep-seated as Ben came up beside her.

"No luck?"

She glanced at him with a tired gaze, and he wore a sympathetic smile. "Apparently not. Jefferson doesn't seem to care about my upcoming article."

Ben laughed. "I wonder why that is." The wry sarcasm in his voice made her raise an eyebrow; he shrugged. "I mean, your articles never cast him in the greatest light, do they?"

"Guess you're right," she murmured, and her eyes drifted back to Thomas, now in the opposite corner of the room and greeting supporters and reporters. "Still seems kind of rude, though. I wouldn't think he'd even be paying that close of attention to what I'm publishing."

"Please," Ben scoffed. "Everyone's tuned into your writing. He'd be stupid not to be."

"I dunno about that," Y/N replied, turning to him with a small smile. "He probably has better things to do."

"Better than managing his brand? Nah, he's read your writing," he said matter-of-factly with a shrug. "Probably trying to avoid getting dragged, which seems like a weak strategy. He should do damage control, instead."

"I'm not doing that much damage," she said, a trace of a laugh in her voice, and Ben shrugged.

"That remains to be seen. It seems silly for him to not talk to you."

Y/N couldn't help but silently agree; or, at least, she'd have liked to, but with Thomas's sudden change in attitude toward her, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was a deeper motive at play. "Yeah."

"But whatever; fuck him," he went on, apparently sensing the melancholy undertone to her demeanor, and as he scoffed dramatically, she laughed outright. "I'm gonna get out of here. I've got what I need." When she nodded, he hesitated before adding, "You looking to join me?"

She turned to him with her eyebrows raised. "And go where?"

He shrugged. "There's a bar around the corner. And you seem like you could use a drink." She held her tongue for another moment, considering it, and he just watched her. "But I wasn't thinking of staying long."

The offer was tempting. As Y/N pondered it, well aware that his motive wasn't quite innocent, her gaze drifted back to Thomas. He was looking everywhere but at her, it seemed — he'd hardly said a word to her all afternoon, was dodging her attempts to approach him, and didn't seem to want anything to do with her — and she sighed as she came to a decision. She turned to Ben with a small smile.

"Just for one drink?"

"That's all I'll ask."

While she forced herself to shift her focus off of Thomas as they left the room, determined to enjoy her night, he caught sight of her retreating side-by-side with Ben, talking and laughing, just as they were reaching the exit.

She was the only thing on Thomas's mind for the remainder of the night.

____________

ANOTHER WEEK PASSED. Still, it was radio silence from Thomas, and while she didn't try to reach him, it was starting to worry her. Had that run-in at Lafayette's three weeks before put him off that much? Could he really still think she was sleeping with Lafayette?

As hard as she was trying to cast those thoughts aside, the only other thing she had to focus on was coming up with a solution for what to do with her article from her interview with Adams: so Thomas was never far from her thoughts. She couldn't decide whether continuing to avoid him was a good idea. She returned to her regular shifts at the diner, at the very least, but he never stopped by, or, if he did, it wasn't when she was around.

She was almost relieved when Ashley asked her to report on his next big-donor fundraiser, promising her double pay for overtime.

___________

THOMAS DIDN’T EXPECT to see her there.

The event was down in North Carolina, a hotel ballroom in Raleigh. He’d been dreading it, admittedly — he’d much rather have spent his time discussing actual policy with his constituents, maybe holding a town hall, but instead, there he was, shaking hands and wooing the über-wealthy to keep his campaign afloat. (Was it too late to accept funding from super PACs?)

He was chatting with a couple from the area, nice people coasting on a windfall from a strategic stock investment many years ago, when he spotted her at the edge of the room, standing beside Dolley and delicately sipping whiskey as though cautiously toeing the line of sobriety.

She glanced over at him, though, only moments later, and he was struggling to keep his composure as he tried to keep the conversation lighthearted — stick to the talking points. Y/N retained her spot in the corner of his vision all the while, though, and his thoughts remained there with her. When the old couple broke off from him to get something to drink, she was headed in his direction, and he didn’t suppose the timing was a coincidence.

He didn’t let her see the scowl he wore when he turned away. She couldn’t really think she could come chat with him after avoiding him for weeks, and he’d pretend like nothing was wrong. He knew this wasn’t the time to address the elephant in the room; however, if he gave in and gave her his time, that’d be all he could focus on. So, no: he wouldn’t be letting her pigeon-hole him into having that conversation, not after she’d been the one avoiding him in the first place. If she needed him, she knew how to reach him.

Thankfully, the table he’d been hovering near was full, so when he started walking further from her vicinity, he had somewhere to go.

He left without a second thought.

____________

THE REST OF the night proceeded much in the same way. She tried, and tried, and tried again to get a moment of his time, but there always seemed to be someone higher on his list of priorities.

By the time two hours elapsed, she’d lost him entirely, and that was the final straw. She owed it to her dignity to give up.

Dolley was the only one who knew she’d left as she roamed the halls of the hotel’s first floor — they’d been clinging to one another the entire night, and she’d been whining when Y/N told her she was going to get some air.

The entire floor carried the lingering scent of chlorine as Y/N passed conference rooms and bite-sized gyms, although there was no pool as far as she could see. She wondered briefly how every hotel managed to bottle that smell up and leave it everywhere, but the thought was fleeting; she dismissed it the moment she caught sight of bubbling water behind the door at the end of the hall: a hot tub. She could’ve laughed. If nothing else, it seemed she could count on hotels having shitty, cramped pools that they played up on their websites and in their pamphlets (though she’d have to check out the hotel’s marketing later to confirm her theory).

She was surprised to find the door unlocked when she gave it a tentative push, looking for somewhere to sit, if only for a minute or two, but when she stepped inside, she was even more surprised to find Thomas sitting to her immediate left.

When he met her eyes, he looked equally stunned by her presence. A beat passed.

Finally, she offered him a small smile.

“I guess I should be used to running into you every time I go to take a breather at some fancy party, huh?”

His expression was subdued as he looked her over. “Guess this wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Or the second,” she added, but as she let the door fall shut behind her, he didn’t react to her words, instead pushing himself up in his chair with his hands on the armrests. “Why are you in here?”

“Well, I was told that the hotel had a luxury pool and spa, so obviously, I had to check it out for myself,” he said frankly, and when she laughed softly, the corners of his lips twitched upward. He still didn’t meet her eyes, averting his gaze back to the water. “Not sure it lived up to expectations.”

“You got swindled that easily?” she asked incredulously. “I’d think the future president would be a little more discerning than that.”

“‘Future president’?” he repeated, disbelief clear in his voice. She shrugged.

“Your words, not mine.”

He allowed himself a wry smile, though he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, as the future president, I can’t be avoidin’ my own fundraiser for this long,” he said, and she furrowed her brow when he pushed himself to his feet. “I was just leavin’.”

“Hey, no, you weren’t.” She folded her arms, standing between him and the door. “Why are you trying to run the minute you see me?”

“...Excuse me?”

“Sit back down, Thomas.” She didn’t fold under his heavy gaze; their standoff only lasted a moment longer before he decided it'd be easier just to give in. He sat on the side of the lounge chair with a huff, and she took the one opposite him. “You’ve hardly said a word to me for the past month. Why?”

“Guess I’ve just been busy.”

“You’re always busy,” she countered, and his impatient sigh was audible. “But I haven’t gone this long without talking to you since the first time we kissed.”

The first time they kissed. Not the first time they had sex, not the first time she stayed over at his place, but the first time they kissed. Her using that as the milestone in their relationship made his posture soften.

“Yeah, well, the primaries are endin’, now, so I’ve got more to do.”

She scoffed. “I’m calling bullshit.” He raised an affronted brow. “That wouldn’t have stopped you from talking to me at your last press conference. Or here, tonight. Or even just texting me; there’s no way that could take more than sixty seconds out of your day.”

“Hang on, now, you haven’t reached out either,” he defended. “Talk all you want about me avoiding you, but you were avoidin’ me first.”

“That’s a groundless accusation,” she said, but he folded his arms, watching her expectantly.

“You haven’t been at your usual shifts at the diner for weeks, now, sweetheart,” he informed her. “And right when you saw me at Lafayette’s place, you bolted.”

“That wasn’t because you were there. My schedule changed at work, so I changed my shifts at the diner, and I had to be there that night.”

“Your schedule changed?” he asked skeptically, and she nodded. “What’s so different about it?”

Y/N shrugged. “Nothing too drastic. My editor just has me working late a few days a week, now.”

“Didn’t you tell me a couple weeks ago that you two struck a deal so you wouldn’t have to work overtime?”

“Nothing’s permanent, Thomas.”

“So when would I find you workin’ if I stopped by at the diner, then?”

“Oh, um…” she trailed off, taken aback — she hadn’t expected him to press her for details, but in retrospect, she should’ve. The look he wore was expectant. “Well, Wednesday and Thursday nights—”

“I was there on Thursday. You weren’t.” His words were blunt; his gaze was sharp, calculating. She was slowly being backed into a corner, and Thomas knew by then that he had her trapped.

“Your point?”

“Thought that was obvious enough,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re makin’ up all this about your schedule changin’, and I wanna know why.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she defended, and he huffed out a dry, humorless laugh.

“Don’t you start gaslighting me,” he warned. While Y/N scowled, she remained silent; unfortunately for her, he was right, and she didn’t have many other cards to play. “I know when I’m bein’ lied to, sweetheart.”

She was shifting under his heavy gaze; his using the term of endearment felt cold, condescending, then, rather than anything close to affectionate. “I don’t have to tell you everything that happens in my life.”

“And I wouldn’t ask you to.” He didn’t miss a beat. His eyes were narrowed. “But if you don’t wanna tell me the truth, don’t just make somethin’ else up. I feel like I deserve that much.”

“I didn’t want to leave you wondering about what you thought I could be hiding. It doesn’t involve you.”

“And I’m not gonna try to force my way into your personal life. I get that you’ve got things to do ‘n places to be.” He cocked a brow. “So are you just lyin’ to me ‘cause you really do have something you’re tryna hide from me?”

Y/N huffed, shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, yeah, I am hiding things from you,” she said, but the undertone of her words was harsh. “But that shouldn’t come as some surprise. At the end of the day, I might end up in your bed, but for every other hour, I have a whole life that you aren’t part of. I’m allowed to have things I’m ashamed of, and I’m allowed to have things I wanna keep for myself. You have no control over me.”

“‘Control’?” he scoffed. “Is that really what you still think of me?”

“That’s how you’re acting,” she said. “Let’s face it: you’ve been lashing out every time you see me with other men. First at Lafayette’s, then at your stupid press conference. You don’t own me.”

“Listen,” he said, looking her square in the eye, and his gaze was sharp, “It’s none of my business what you do or who you do it with, and I get that. But  if you weren't lyin' to me at every turn, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

“I'm not 'lying to you at every turn,'” she defended, “but I don’t owe you anything.”

"Don't I deserve the truth, at least?" he asked incredulously. “Or do I really mean that little to you?”

“I…” She didn’t know what to say. Of course not, she wanted to yell, of course you don’t, but right now, I’m stuck choosing between you and my income, my rent money, my student debt payments. She could justify neither half the things she’d said nor the way she’d been treating him, not without telling him everything that was going on, and when she swallowed hard, he took her silence as the answer it wasn’t.

He gave a bitter laugh, dragged a hand through his curls. “I dunno what I expected. Guess I shouldn’t have asked, huh?”

“We were never together, and we were never exclusive. You know that as well as I do.”

“No, we weren’t,” he agreed. “But I guess I managed to fool myself into thinkin’ all those hours we were spendin’ together meant something. Won’t be makin’ that mistake again.”

“Don’t be like this.” She scowled. "I never pretended our relationship was anything other than what it is."

"Nah, you made that clear enough when you started blowing me off to go spend the night elsewhere."

"I've already told you so many times that it wasn't like that," she said. “I don't want to jump Lafayette's bones. I can’t believe you have the audacity to be acting jealous.”

“Of course I’m fucking jealous.” He broke her gaze with a huff, shook his head as he looked everywhere but at her. “You’ve been dodgin’ my calls, stayin’ as far from me as possible, and then I see you spending your time with Lafayette and that little reporter friend of yours from the New York Times. How else am I supposed to feel?”

“I don’t owe you my time.”

“Maybe you don’t,” he said, voice frigid, “but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”

“Hang on, you’re deflecting from the fact that you were avoiding me, too.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes, I can.” She scowled. "You can't come complaining about how I've been treating you when you've been doing the exact same thing."

"What was I supposed to do, go chasin' after you?" he asked. "I have too much self-respect to be tryna hunt someone down when they're makin' it clear they don't want me around."

"I’ve been trying to talk to you all night."

"Yeah, sure, now that it’s convenient for you," Thomas retorted. "I don't just wanna be convenient, Y/N. I want more than that."

"Convenient is all this ever was. It's all this was ever supposed to be," she reasoned. "If I wasn't there, you would've just been trying to fuck some other girl in your office at that fucking state dinner."

"No, I wouldn't. That's what you don't get." His tone was biting, but his words made her frown.

“Why not, Thomas? You and I both knew what this was when we got into it. We knew it couldn’t last with our careers,” she said. He stayed silent, and she pursed her lips; when she spoke, her voice was softer, “Don’t be like this. This was never going to be more than what it is.”

“Couldn’t it have been, though?” he asked, and he raised an expectant eyebrow. His conviction was clear.

“No.” Her answer caught him off guard, and he frowned. “You weren’t under any illusions about that. We’ve been hiding for a reason.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

“...What?” Y/N’s eyes widened at his words, and despite how taken aback she was, Thomas’s eyes were narrowed when they finally met hers.

“What? If I’m not what you want, what are we sneakin’ around for? I think you oughta stop wastin’ your time with me.” The last sentence was saturated with bitter sarcasm, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, I never said I was ‘wasting my time’ with you,” she said, affronted. “I… like spending time with you. Isn’t that justification enough?”

“Then what have these past couple weeks been about, hm? You come around sayin’ all this now, but you haven’t been actin’ like it.”

“I haven’t been playing some kind of game, here, Thomas. I was always upfront with you,” she defended. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Oh, yeah, busy with Lafayette, right?” he sneered, and her eyebrows shot up. She folded her arms. “Busy with that reporter you left the fundraiser with?”

“Busy working two jobs to be able to pay my rent.” Her teeth were gritted; her jaw tensed when Thomas rolled his eyes. “We can’t all spend our whole lives coasting on daddy’s money, Jefferson.”

“So it’s like that, huh?” He huffed, shaking his head. The small smile he wore was sardonic, disbelieving.  “You’re playin’ that card? Seems like you’ve been able to find time for the other guys you’ve been screwin’, though.”

“Are you serious? Fuck you; I don’t have to take this from you,” she said incredulously. “Don’t tell me I’ve been acting like some whore when you don’t know my life.”

“Hang on, now, I'm not callin’ you a whore,” he defended. She scoffed. “Don’t you dare put words in my mouth."

"That sure is what it sounds like," she snarled. "You have no right to complain about me sleeping with other men. You don't own me."

"So you have been sleeping with 'em?"

A long moment passed in silence; Thomas's expression was unreadable, but Y/N couldn't bring herself to break his gaze.

"What if I am?" she finally asked bitterly. "Do you really think I'd let you stop me?"

"No, I don't," he said. "'Cause I never really meant shit to you, did I?"

"Now who's putting words in whose mouth?"

"What else am I supposed to take away from this? Hm?"

"That we aren't dating, and that you aren't my boyfriend. For god's sake, Thomas, you're a presidential nominee."

"We've long since established that," he said, and his gaze was cold, calculated, "but you really think that gives you license to treat me like shit?"

"I haven't been treating you like shit,” she defended, affronted.

"You've been ignorin' me for weeks. You've been out sleepin' with other men, not even giving me the time of day," he replied, and she narrowed her eyes. His voice was beginning to rise.

"But I don't—"

"You don't owe me anything. We aren't together," he snarled. "Yeah. I get it, Y/N."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"Do I really need to repeat myself? I don't like bein' treated like this; it's as simple as that."

"Then maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn't be doing this." Her words were impulsive, born of frustration and anger less than any conscious thought. Thomas raised his eyebrows, and Y/N's heart sank to her stomach at the shock in his gaze that he didn't react soon enough to hide.

For a moment, she wished she could take it back; that is, until he responded—

"Then I guess we shouldn't." It was her turn to be surprised, then, as the hurt in his expression hardened into contempt. She didn't respond, at first; her throat was tight, and her head was pounding, and she was struggling to wrap her head around the finality of his words. In that moment, she wanted them to be final.

“Fine.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, shook her head. “So this is how this ends, huh?”

"Accordin’ to you, there was never anything here to end,” Thomas replied bitterly. “Isn’t that right?”

When she met his eyes, they didn’t mirror the ache that permeated every inch of her body. Instead, he looked indifferent, just waiting for her to answer.

“I guess not,” she whispered. The heavy silence between them only grew. “But, Thomas, I never meant to—”

There was a knock at the door.

They both jumped at the sound; Y/N cut herself off abruptly as her head whipped around toward the door. Thomas turned in his chair.

"Who's there?" Despite the vulnerable position he knew himself to be in, his voice was commanding; he spoke with a degree of authority Y/N considered to be unearned in their circumstance.

The door cracked open to reveal Dolley wearing an apologetic wince, and she didn't step inside. Y/N and Thomas both breathed heavy sighs of relief, though, the rigidity softening in their postures at the sight of her face.

"I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to interrupt," she said softly, "but when you stopped talking, I thought you were done, and—"

"It's alright," Y/N said, her words sounding tired. “How much of that did you hear?” Dolley gave a nervous shrug.

"More than I should've," she admitted, and Y/N hardly stifled her groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm so sorry, dear; I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I was waiting for a good time to come in, and… one never came."

"Why's it always gotta be you?" Thomas said, and Y/N turned to glare at him.

"Hey, that's not fair," she argued. "She was trying to be considerate; this isn't her fault."

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he held his face in his hands. After a long moment, he turned to Dolley. "'M sorry," he said, "I didn't mean it how it came off. But what're you doin' back here?"

"Actually, I came here so someone else wouldn't," she said scathingly. "A Ben Arnold and an Angelica Schuyler are both looking for you, Y/N. I told them I knew where you were because I was worried about someone else walking in on you two."

Angelica? Y/N didn’t have time to dwell.

"Well, we appreciate it," she said firmly, and she could only pray her voice didn’t break when she said, "We were just about done here, anyway."

"...Okay," Dolley said hesitantly as Y/N stood, and although she didn't look back as she joined her at the door, Dolley could see how dejected Thomas looked.

"Then let's go." Y/N brushed past her without another word. Dolley didn't follow her for another minute.

Concern was heavy in her creased brow as she eyes Thomas where he sat, head in his hands and making no move to stand up. 

“Thomas,” she said hesitantly, “Are you—?"

"Just go, Doll," he sighed, and she frowned. "Sounds like you and Y/N have places to be."

"For what it's worth," —Dolley glanced back over her shoulder, and Y/N had already left her field of vision; she turned back to Thomas— "She hasn't been with anyone else since you met."

“How would you know?”

“She has a tendency to run her mouth when she’s tipsy,” Dolley said frankly, wearing a small, reassuring smile.

He sighed. It was far too late for that to be much of a comfort, and he couldn't keep the vexation from his voice when he responded.

“I appreciate it, Doll, really," he said, “but... it’s too late.”

___________

9:02 AM

From: ashl.sheddy@washingtonpost.com

Y/N:

The article looks great. Schuyler sent it to me. Although I’m not sure why I didn’t receive it from you the minute you finished writing it, I’m pleased with what you’ve come up with.

With that said, for the future, tell me immediately when you have a story this provocative. I hope it won't come to this, but withholding information that you gather on company time may result in the termination of your employment. Please don't force my hand.

Regards,

Ashley

[foundinfuckboys-blog]

Shy Boy

Paring: Lafayette x reader

AU: Modern

Word Count: 2500+

Warning: oral sex, smut, cursing, fluff.

You and Lafayette were currently in your room working on a project for French class. Everyone was allowed to pick partners so the first thing you thought of was to rush to Laf. But obviously you weren’t the first with the idea.

Surprisingly he turned down everyone’s request simply because he was the french transfer student. He accepted your invitation because he actually had the biggest crush on you and thought this was the perfect way to get close to you.

You heard a knock on your door making you and Laf turn your heads. It was your parents. “Hey sweetie, hey Lafayette we are going to pick up a gift from your Grandma’s house. It’s gift for my sister but she’s to lazy to give her the gift to her, herself,” your mom giggled.

“So you guys are basically transporting the gift,” Laf chuckled. You knew Laf was seen as the nerd to some in school but out of school he seemed a bit different. Less nervous and more bolder.

Like he was able to be himself without the pressure of his peers. And his voice, was amazing. It sounded a little more raspy now since he seemed tired. It was already 7:45pm. “Basically,” your dad spoke up smiling.

“So when are you guys going to be back?” you asked putting your pencil down, turning your full attention to your parents.

“Honestly, don’t know. I don’t think traffic is that bad but going from your grandma, to your aunts house will be a hour minimum,” your dad shrugged putting an arm around your mother.

No one was pay attention but from your dad’s last sentence Lafayette got an idea.

“Awe okay,” you sighed. “Well we will finish this project and I can try to make dinner,” you smiled.

“Good good. And if you go home before we come back Lafayette, I want you to have a good night,” my mom smiled. Wow they really like Lafayette.

“Will do Ms.Y/M/N,” he said before bowing. making your parents.

“Okay well we’ll be going now. Don’t burn the house down. Don’t break anything, and don’t make any loud noises. You get loud when your frustrated and its almost eight,” your dad instructed.

In Lafayette’s mind he was on his way to breaking the last rule. “I won’t. I won’t,” you pleaded laughing. Your parents said your goodbyes and now you were left along with Lafayette.

“Your parents are nice,” Laf chuckled. You got up from your chair to stretch and he watched as your shirt lifted up a bit.

“Yeah,” you yawned. “They seem to like you more than any other person I befriended,” you smiled.

Lafayette heart seemed to rush. You called him…your friend. No he didn’t have a hard time making friends at school but being yours was different. He actually like you. “Maybe because I’m french,” he joked.

“Maybe. You’re always saying things we we,” you laughed.

“No mi amour it’s oui, meaning yes,” he said swiftly making you swoon.

You sat back in your chair and rested your chin on your palm. “Just keep talking, it sounds heavenly,” you gushed.

“You don’t wanna learn? I can teach you. Um….oui is yes. Mi amour is my love. Princesse is my princess,” he explained calmly. When he focused his attention back on you, you were closer to him than a few seconds before.

“Back in France did you have a girlfriend?”

He choked on his words before starting, “Um yes, why?”

“What would you guys do?” you purred making him nervous again like how he was in school. He shifted in his seat praying you wouldn’t see the boner that was growing in his pants.

“Uh..I dont know. We would just hang out and go sight seeing because France is a really beautiful place,” he rambled. Gosh he looked so hot right now and maybe his accent did turn you on. But even if he didn’t have it, it wouldn’t have been long before you were putty in his hands. He was attractive, kind, well spoken, and so caring for others.

You leaned in closer. “You guys ever like.. have sex?” you whispered.

He closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. A really pretty girl, who is clearly aroused, and leaning over to him so he can see a little more of your cleavage. And to put icing on the cake he had a prominent erection that was begging to be satisfied.

“I mean a few times,” he sighed trying to maintain his breathing. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He cupped your face and the two of you began to make out passionately. You tensed at his sudden boldness, but felt butterflies in your stomach as he moved his lips against yours. He picked you out of your chair making you squeak. You wrapped your legs around him and moaned into the kiss when you felt his erection pressed against you.

He tried to stifle a moaned when he felt your breast against his chest. He hadn’t felt this feeling in a long time. Yes he had a girlfriend but they only had sex once and he wasn’t going to tell you that. From here he had to use what he knew as well as wing it.

He pushed you down on your bed and put your hands above your head intertwining your fingers with his. He gently tugged on your lip admiring how it slipped out his mouth when he let go. He watched your lustful smile and thought of how he could get used to that smile. And then it hit him, holy shit he was about to have sex with his crush. His movements were a little more hesitant and it wasn’t long before you noticed.

“What wrong?” you panted. He watched your chest rise and fall and then looked back up at you.

“You want the truth?” he sighed.

“Well yeah, I was told it’ll set you free,” you purred spreading your legs further apart making him gulp.

“I really like you. Like a lot, and I don’t want to mess up the moment or leave you unsatisfied,” he said softly.

“Well I like you a lot too. I’m not just saying this because you’re about to fuck me,” you said which boosted his confidence a bit. “You’re a great guy and you’re nice and kind. If you want I can start first,” you said wiggling your wrist signaling for him to let go.

“Oh sorry-”

“No no its dominating and hot but you’re currently nervous and hot. So I’m starting first and you can do whatever you like when I’m done,” you said slipping from under him. You took his hand and guided to sit on the end of the bed. “I would try to do a lap dance but I can’t dance for shit,” you joked making Lafayette laugh. He couldn’t dance either.

You could tell how nervous he was and wanted to make him as comfortable as possible. You kneeled in front of him and his eyes went wide. “Yeah,” you said softly before nodding.

You helped unzip his pants but he was so anxious that he took over. He pulled his pants off and kicked them to the side and then slid his boxers down to his ankles. Holy shit he was bigger than you expected.

“Is this too much?” he genuinely asked making you almost laugh but you did your best to hold back.

“Um yeah- I mean no. I just didn’t know you were this big, oh my god” you gasped the last words quietly making him chuckle. Yeah his confidence was back. You wrapped your hand around his cock and licked a long stride from the base to the tip.

“Holy shit,” he cursed under his breath making you look up at him and smile. A shaky breath leaves his lips as he swallows, looking down at you in awe, and you know he’s trying to keep his composure.

He’s so fucking hard for you as you pump him. Moaning at the way you twist your hand down his shaft. “Why do you like me?” you asked so he could have a hard time replying as you pleasured him.

You kiss the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue against it. “Fuck, um you’re beautiful and sweet- oh my god please don’t stop,” he whimpered as you take him deep into your mouth.

He’s a complete mess for you. There was no denying it as you watch him, flushed cheeks while strangled moans tumble from his lips. He licked his lips and his mouth was slightly agape. Watching his cock disappear into your mouth, his hands take place in your hair as he pushes you down further onto his cock.

You moaned and the vibrations make him more excited, he bucks his hips closer to your mouth. Your throat relaxes for him as you take him deeper. “Holy shit you don’t have a gag reflex,” he whispered with excitement. You shook your head no with cock still in your mouth making him chuckle.

It’s not before long until he starts thrusting in your mouth making you moan at his surge of dominance. His hand tugs gently at your hair and your eyes find his. “I’m so close,” he warns you.

You speed up and he can’t contain himself and the endless string of moans he makes as they spill out of his mouth. “Oh fuck, mi amour. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

His stomach clenches and his thighs tremble and there’s a sense of pride you have that you’ve done this to him. It takes everything in you to pin his hips back as he cums, sucking him through his orgasm and his taste fills your senses and you swallow, careful not to miss a drop of him. Those gasped moans have turned to whimpers as you continue to suck on his now sensitive cock.

“Mi amour, it’s too much. I can’t.” He pants out, hand gripping your shoulder. Slowly, you slip him out with a “pop” before kissing the head of his cock.

He pulls you up from the floor, lips finding yours as he kisses you. He’s hungry for you, you can tell by the look in his eye. You giggle as you stumble towards the bed, falling backwards before crawling to the middle.

Laf isn’t far behind you as you two quickly get undressed. Laf settled between your legs before his lips find your chest. Kissing the skin just above your breasts before his mouth finds your nipple. Sucking it into his mouth as he leaves hickeys on your skin. You whimpered holding onto his bicep and squeezing it. His hand snakes between your legs as he rubs circles into your clit making you moan. The double stimulation at once is enough to make you a moaning mess.

“Laf,” you whimper.

“Yes,” he breathed looking up you. Gosh he’s so hot.

“Fuck me please,” you whined helplessly. He face flushed red as he watch you innocently beg for such a sexual desire. He quickly grabbed the condom from his pants pocked as you whimpered at the sudden absence of his body.

He rolled it on licking his lips then he began to rub your wet slit with the tip of his cock. You gasped as he pushed in, trying to get used to the way it felt having his cock inside you. When he was fully in you two both moaned in pleasure.

Laf began thrusting into you slowly but deeply. You could tell he was concentrating hard on everything that made you feel good as his eyebrows furrowed deeply. His hips rocked back in forth at a slow pace, which had you growing impatient. The air in the room was filled with your soft moans and Lafayette’s heavy breathing.

You didn’t mean to whine and moan so much but this slow pace was driving you to the edge. Lafayette’s pace began to quicken, making him hit the right spot more frequently now and leaving you, a moaning mess under him. You fingers tangled in his hair as his lips moved to yours. You pulled him closer so you could kiss him. At first, his lips moved lazily on yours but they soon gave in and his tongue invade your mouth making you moan in result.

He pulled back and looked you in your eyes, “You like that?” he growled pounding into you.

You felt nervous and empowered has he made direct eye contact. You nodded your head whimpering. He didn’t realize he loved how flushed and innocent you looked as you whimpered and begged for him.

You couldn’t control your moans anymore and Laf could feel your walls clenching around him based on the helpless moans omitting from him that he tried to conceal. Your toes curled and my stomach knotted, leaving your body shaking as you climaxed around Lafayette.

You caught your breath, as he continued thrusting inside of you. “Cum for me baby. I know how much you like fucking me like this, yeah? You like when I squeeze my walls around you like that?” You whispered in Lafayette’s ear before nibbling on it.

“Oh, fuck amour,” He groaned. It took a few more strokes and the aid of your moans to get him to come inside of you. His warm release filled you up in a way that you could get used to.

For a moment you two just laid there panting and being lost for words. Looking into each others eyes, smiling. When he couldn’t physically hold himself up anymore he pulled out and fell beside you.

You winced at the feeling of him pulling out and went under the duvet. You watched Lafayette get up to toss the condom away before putting his boxers on and coming back to you.

“Do you want to put anything on?” he asked?

“Top dresser, any underwear,” you giggled and he smiled retrieving a navy blue pair of underwear for you. It was his favorite color. You slipped it on as he got back into bed under the covers.

“That was fucking amazing,” he said trying to catch his breath looking at the ceiling before looking over to you.

“It was and yes I’m satisfied,” you smiled over to him briefly kissing his lips.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” he asked shyly.

“If I’m allowed to call you my boyfriend,” you teased making him blush.

“Of course, and what are we going to do about the project,” he said tracing a finger up and down your hip.

“You can come over tomorrow,” you grinned, “We can finish then,” you shrugged.

“Orrrrr” he dragged out.

“What,” you asked with excitement.

“I can return the favor of you sucking me off?” he teased slipping a hand near your inner thigh.

“Laf I’m sensitive right now,” you whined and he pulled hand away, apologizing. “It’s okay, and yeah I’ll think about it. But we should ready to get dressed, I don’t know how long my parents will be.”

“We should,” he paused before continuing, “but can we cuddle first?” he begged jutting his bottom lip out.

“Sure,” you said kissing his forehead.

[deja-you]

Hey! Could you do a Drabble where like Thomas cheats on the reader and (kinda like Eliza) y/n takes him back but things just aren’t quite the way they were and it’s bothering both of them

yep! this one is 967 words

Your presence floods the room.

When the two of you were younger and newer to the whole idea of love and forever, you would flood the room with light. Golden, shimmering light that warmed the room from the inside out. He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You still fill the room with your presence; up to its full capacity. Now it's a flood.

You flood the apartment, the water damage seeping into the ground. Contractors say the damage is irreparable. But maybe it's not so.

Thomas can't remember the last time you've said his name. He misses the way it sounds on your tongue, but he understands this isn't something he deserves.

The bed is cold and empty while two people lay next to each other.

He reaches his hand toward you before pulling back. He knows better. Thomas misses you, but reaching out is what he wants, not you. He's made enough selfish decisions lately to last him a lifetime. He's afraid they will last him a lifetime.

If he's being honest, sometimes he thinks his life would be better if he had never told you. It was one mistake. One awful, unforgiving mistake that had destroyed everything good in his life. If Thomas had kept his mouth shut, everything could've remained unimpaired and beautiful. But nothing good can grow out of lies, and the very least you deserved was the truth.

That didn't make the admission any easier. The way you looked away from him when he had told you about her. If you were angry with him, if you had yelled or thrown something, he would've understood. Thomas, to some degree, had suspected this behavior. Maybe that's partly why it hurts more when you speak to him softly.

You are gentle to him in a way he doesn't deserve. It's not forgiveness, and it breaks his heart even further when he realizes it's shame. On your part. Somehow his actions have made you feel less than adequate, and this hurts him the most.

“Twenty years.” He remembers you saying after his confession. “I have loved you for twenty years.”

Your voice was quiet when you spoke, and he thinks it was so he wouldn’t be able to hear all the cracks and factures in your words.

“I have loved you and only you. I only know how to love you. I only know how to love you. Do you know that? I so desperately want to hate you for this!”

And Thomas responded with something like: “you deserve to hate me.”

“I know that. But I can’t. I can only love you, which leaves me to carry the blame of your infidelity myself. What could I have done to make you love me more?”

Thomas was stunned and shocked into silence.

You can’t help your voice from breaking on your next words. “You are the only person I will ever love. Why am I not enough for you?”

Those words haunt Thomas when he closes his eyes. And when he wakes up. And when he goes to work. And when he takes a shower. And when he makes dinner. There is no point in his life where those words don’t ring in the back of his mind like chains anchoring him to his crimes. Why am I not enough for you?

The two of you are lying in bed now, the both of you being as still as possible, hoping your presence doesn’t take up too much space. After a brief lapse into weakness, you have shut off your emotions, becoming a shell of the person you once were. Thomas misses your laugh and your anger and your raised eyebrows when he does something stupid and the way you used to kiss him because it brought you an endless amount of joy. There is nothing left, save for the pain and sorrow he has inflicted upon you.

Nights like these, the two of you can hear the entire city of New York. On the street below, a group of young girls climb into a taxi for a wild night out. In the apartment across the way, a musician is practicing for opening night at the city orchestra. Across the hall, a single mother tries to rock her baby to sleep while she talks to her sister on the phone. Brown-blue water washing against the riverbank a few blocks down.

There is so much going on outside, it reminds Thomas that there is more than just this moment lying next to you. There was the day he had first met you, sitting across from you in elementary and sharing crayons. There was your wedding day, when Thomas swore you were some sort of ethereal being. There was the day after he cheated on you, waking up with a pool of regret in his stomach. There were all these past moments in time that existed out of his reach, and there was every future moment he could spend loving you.

All these future moments with you could only exist if Thomas made a decision now. Gathering any remaining courage, he reaches out across the sheets that had become a vast ocean in the void between the two of you. You tense at the feeling of his fingers on your skin, but after a long moment, you allow yourself to sink into his embrace.

Thomas feels a warmth surge in his chest at your silent acceptance, and delicately – because this might all fall apart if he isn’t careful – he pulls you closer to him. He presses his lips against your back like they could take away the pain his actions had inflicted. It’s not okay, and nothing will ever be the same, but the both of you are learning to love each other in new ways.

[a-maladaptive-daydreamer]

Stop treating fanfiction writers like they are machines