#dark!thomas jefferson x reader

[random-fandom-chaos]

PLEASE read!!

hi:) Welcome to my blog!! Here is what I’m trying out! Also. my asks can be used for memes and random things in your day you wanted to share. Not just my fandoms

Hi :) so I’m a veryComplicated person…AND, I’m going to TRY out writing fanfics…These are my hyperfixations (Currently)

characters (And fandoms) I will discuss (Like you can talk to me about them) and write for:

Hamilton:

-ALEXANDER HAMILTON

-AARON BURR

-ANGELICA SCHYLER

-THOMAS JEFFERSON

-SAMUEL SEABURY

Tsams (The sun and moon show):

-Solar (NOT Solar flare…Srry :/ pls don’t hate me)

-(NEW and NOT Solars) Moon

-Sun

-Eclipse

-Lunar (Yes it can be romantic but Mild romance without makeout sessions or anything, Not with him…NO SMUT with him at least. I’m fine with the other characters having smut)

-bloodmoon (New and old one)

-KC (Killcode)

CRK:

Pure vanilla cookie

-Clotted Cream cookie

-Dark cacao cookie

-Hollyberry cookie

-financier cookie

(YES, I WILL WRITE SMUT WITH ALL CHARACTERS EXCEPT LUNAR!!! [My older cousin does so so don’t worry she is of age to write it so don’t be afraid to ask and I don’t read it] Remember, i Lowley suck at writing and almost never use tumblr…Unless I’m bored and it’s the middle of the night but other than that I don’t really use it…SO WRITING THE FANFICS WILL TAKE TIME!! The only thing I won’t do is Ped0files or a Child x Adult romantic..Btw thanks to

@yanderecookierunkingdom

@reeedvelvet

and other fanfic writers (I forgot about your handles, sorry). I follow that Inspired me to start writing myself!!! Feel free to ask for fanfics, Even if you’re a fanfic write yourself-)

(BTW, if there are Typos please don’t judge me- I’m still a person! And VERY busy in school :/ SRRY IN ADVANCE!!)

I will do character x character

AND

character x reader

(I forgot to add that!!!)

(and I forros to add another fandom…)

Splatoon:

-Marie

-Callie

-Marina

-Pearl (both the regular and drone!)

Btw I also just added:

I will write:

FLUFF ANGST

[older cousin will write]

SMUT

also please ask!!! Please don’t hesitate or be shy as you can use Anon. Please even if others might find it weird you can ask cause I don’t find anything weird when it’s fandoms!!

(The TSAMS characters aren’t related!!! So yes you can ask to ship them! In my writing way so please don’t hate. Please just block and don’t report.)

#cookie run kingdom #hamilton fanfiction #crk financier cookie #crk clotted cream cookie #crk pure vanilla cookie #Crk Hollyberry cookie #alexander hamilton #Angelica Schyler #Tsams #Solar!! #Also: I can’t work tags AT ALL so I didn’t add every character :) #Hi :)Pls notice me

[nocturne-pisces]

Satisfied Customers: Ari Levinson x Reader

Smaller: Stucky

How Endgame Should Have Ended

Kitten: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Darlin': 40's Bucky x Reader

Sunshine: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Good: Ari Levinson x Reader

Feel: Mechanic!Bucky x Reader

Renegotiate: Thomas Shelby x Barmaid!Reader

Everything in this list has dark themes and dark characters.

Arkham Menace: Jason Todd x Reader

Thanks, Sunshine: Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Fixture: AndrewGarfield!Spiderman x Reader

Underdog: Bobby Pronge, Justin Capshaw x Reader

Bronze: Lance Tucker x Reader

Mutual Benefits: Scott Huffman x Reader (1)

—Matrimony: Scott Huffman x Reader (2)

Prince Charming: Carter Baizen x Reader

Lamb: Chase Collins x Reader

Tastes Like You: Steve Kemp x Reader

Little Fairy: Jefferson (Once Upon A Time) x Reader

Pretty Little Thing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

#duckie masterlist update

[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)

#miscellaneous masterlist #miscellaneous drabbles #miscellaneous blurbs #masterlist #18+ #minors dni

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

Surrexit lingua vestra cattus

Thomas appears to be a friend, but he is a demon after all.

Pairing: demon!Thomas x reader

Word count: Abt 2k

A/N: The translations came from Google, so by any means, please correct my Latin. My idea for demons and their jobs is loosely based on Supernatural because I miss it so much 😭

Take Latin, they said.

It will be fun, they said.

As a senior, you thought taking a language class would somehow lighten your stressful workload, and you were wrong. Latin kicked your ass every single week.

“Why didn’t I take Spanish?”, you groaned, dropping your head on the desk

The dorm room was empty, save for the stressed-out senior studying for finals. Your roommate, the English major, breezed through all their courses with flying colors. Avery was a natural when it came to writing and criticizing your essays. They were sure to graduate at the top of the class. Y/N, on the other hand, struggled to conjugate daily activities in past tense. College may not have been too much of a stressor in life, but this semester has fucked you over in more ways than one. All you wanted to do was graduate on time and that meant for the next two semesters you had to take 18 credits.

With the final tomorrow, you knew relearning the information was a lost cause.

Can I go home and tell mom I failed? I will never hear the end of it.

I’ll have to sit through another lecture about switching majors.

The wayward thoughts took over, filling your head with how disappointed your family will be. You wrapped your arms around yourself, head dropped to your knees when you heard something hit the floor. To your left, a book managed to fall off the bookshelf, landing on its spine.

You took your time getting the open book off the floor and reading the bookmarked page. Who would have thought your precious roommate would also be interested in demonology? The page was in English except for one paragraph at the bottom written in Latin. You read it to yourself, wincing at your terrible pronunciation.

“I guess demons aren’t real after all”, you laughed to yourself as you placed the book back on the shelf

You turned on your heel, then ran into something solid.

“Who told you demons weren’t real, sweetheart?”

The figure braced himself for the scream that escaped your lips. It happened from time to time. Someone thought demon summoning was a joke, he showed up, then boom instant nightmare. The demon towered over you. He appeared to be in his thirties. The wild, but neat curls framing his face were enough to cover the bottom of his horns. He stared down at you with his pitch-black eyes, bored with your screams.

“Are you done yet?”, he scoffed, “I’m not that bad”

“You’re a demon”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing. I’m no longer disgusted in the presence of humans…although I should be. Just gross and full of emotions”

The demon walked around your small dorm, looking the at the bookshelf before his eyes landed on the book you just put away. He immediately perked up and pulled it off the shelf.

“I can’t believe they still make copies of these. Are you a fan of mine?”, he stared at you with a suggestive quirk of his brow

“It’s not my book, and why would I be a fan of you?”

“Sure, it isn’t. It’s also my book. Had to get the word out somehow”

“Everything is already stressing me out. Why would I want to add a demon to the mix?”, you hissed

“To make your life less stressful. That is what we’re here for”

“A demon just steps in, makes your life better at no cost at all?”

The demon smirked as he took a seat on your roommate’s desk. He remained composed during your interrogation. Typically, the deals were quick. Everyone knew what they wanted, and he set the nonnegotiable price for their demands. This might take a little longer, but he was up for the challenge.

“You have a point. Nothing is free, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that”

“Don’t call me demon”

“Aren’t you a demon?”

He paused for a moment, opening his mouth for a smart remark, yet it never came. A soft laugh came in its wake.

“Thomas. You can call me Thomas”

The name put you at ease, but only for a little while. You sighed as you sat on your bed, picking up your Latin notes again.

“…and you are?”

“A human that doesn’t need your help. Nothing is worth risking a deal with a dem—you. I can’t risk that”

“There’s nothing I can help you with?”

“No”, you stated with as much firmness you could muster. The room felt slightly warmer since Satan’s spawn appeared out of nowhere.

“Not even your Latin homework?”, Thomas grinned, watching your faux hostility crumble. He knew you needed his help, but he did not mind waiting for you to ask nicely.

“I’m studying for a final and no, you can’t”

“I’ve lived for over three centuries. I think I’ve picked up more than enough Latin in my lifetime. Why do you think it’s all in my book?”

“Why would I want your help?”

“Because you’ll fail without me”

“No, I won’t. Maybe. Who cares? I don’t need your help”

“Well”, he sighed as he stepped off the bed, “te visurum”

Thomas’s hand touched the doorknob. How bad can it be? Why is he willing to help you? If he apparated in your room, why did he need to use the door?

“For dramatic effect. Do you want my help or not? I know a trick or two to help you study”, he reasoned, aware that you were already screaming yes

“Fine, but this is time for studying. I don’t need any distractions”

Thomas was indeed a distraction.

He stopped after every three phrases to ask you about your studies, hometown, and why you summoned him in the first place. You did not strike him as the type of person to summon a demon unless they were desperate.

The space between the two of you were sparse. The longer he stayed, the warmer it felt. The thermostat in the room remained untouched since he arrived. For some reason, you felt your body warming up the longer he stayed around you. You sat up on the bed with your laptop in front of you, attempting to put some space between you. Thomas laid on his side, holding himself up with his elbow. Every time his horn brushed against your arm; your skin tingled, sending small trembles to places in your body you did not want to speak about.

“Do demons have tails too?”

“Does it look like I have a tail?”

“You have black eyes and eyes, I wouldn’t put it past you”, you smirked, “Don’t get an attitude with me, blame the internet”

“I can’t do anything about the internet taking artistic liberties for what we look like, but some of it is erroneous. Don’t need a tail or wings”

“What about your horns? What’s their purpose?”

Thomas grew silent. He never wondered why he needed his horns, dark eyes, or claws. They were just there. They were a part of him. It made people fear him whenever they crossed paths and easier to get what he wanted without threatening violence. Although he loved the latter, it made his life much easier. It did not take much for him to intimidate the strongest of men, but you seemed different. Besides the initial reaction, it appeared that there’s no part of you that feared him. If no one knew who he was, one would think you were talking to another human.

“Did I offend you or something?”, you asked, finally looking up from your notebook

“No”, Thomas blinked, “Not at all. It’s going to take more than that to offend me…”

“I’m still not giving you my name and I like a challenge”

Little did you know, so did he.  

“I’ve been living amongst demons for so long, I forgot that humans aren’t used to our appearance. It got pretty lonely down there, then I came here and not much changed”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who won’t scream for the hills when they see you”, you giggled

“I may have found one already”, Thomas replied with a devious smirk, “I’m going to give you a little push. There’s no way you’re passing this class…”

Trying to look offended was no use. You knew you were not going to pass either, regardless if Thomas helped you or not. This was a lost cause, and you were back where you started. Thomas pulled himself off the bed, collecting his coat and fixing his hair.

“There is another way I can help you, darling”

You closed your laptop and notebook, moving to the edge of the mattress.

“I’m not making a deal with you”

“You don’t have to. I’ll help you pass, and you’ll give me nothing in return”

“Why?”

“Do you know how often college students ask me for penis enlargement? Not help with studying. Not passing a class or paying for tuition. But you? You’re different. I like you, which is why this one’s on me”

“You’re going to help me…for free?”

“I only want to help”, he said, offering up his hands in mock surrender, “Next time, you’ll know when you’re summoning a demon. Do you know how much danger you put yourself in? Also, I’ll be happy to know you passed that final because you’re bound to fail”

“Gee, thanks”

If he helps you pass, he may come back and renege on his offer. There is probably some fine print that says you will belong to him for all of eternity. On the other hand, no more nagging from your mother about your major.

“Fine, I accept”, you agree as you moved to shake his hand

“Oh sweetheart”, Thomas laughed, “You naïve little thing. You really are new to this. That’s not how we seal the deal”

Thomas took a step forward, stepping in between your legs. In that moment, you became painfully aware of the dampness between your thighs.

“A quick kiss, then we’re all done”

You allowed him to move closer. He placed his hands against your cheeks as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. Thomas took his time kissing you, nails ghosting above your collar bone. The gasp that escaped gave him space to slide his tongue in your mouth. You found your hands tangled in his shirt, trying to pull him closer. Thomas happily obliged, placing his hands on the mattress, giving you the chance to wrap your arms around his neck.

Thomas’s hands inched up your shirts as he left rough kisses on your neck. The moan you released when he bit down on the flesh made him weak. His fingers wrapped around your hair and gave a slight tug. When your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he pulled harder, trying to hold himself up with his cock pressed into your thigh. You became so pliant in a matter of moments. This was all he wanted.

Before his hands could reach your bra, the faint sound of keys rang from the other side of the door. Panicked, you pushed Thomas off you.

“See you soon Y/N”, he winked before disappearing

Avery walked in as you were picking their book off the floor. You were quickly pulling your shirt down and trying to fix your hair.

“Told you the book was good”, they smirked

“Can I borrow it for a little longer?”

“Sure”

The next morning you woke up with last night as a distant memory. You quizzed yourself on past and present tense while you showered and focused on your phrases as you got dressed. You knew you were going to pass, something about today just felt right.

You stepped out your dormitory and headed to class. Across the yard, one of your classmates called out to you.

“Y/L/N, want to walk together?”

There was no reason to say no, but when you opened your mouth to say yes, nothing came out. You tried over and over, but each time, your mouth moved, your voice failed to follow suit. You stood in the middle of the yard. Everything felt like it moved in slow motion. Thomas took something valuable to you, and you were none the wiser to his game.

You yanked the demon book from your backpack, intent on summoning the very demon you now despise. In the middle of the cover was a sticky note with a message that made your blood boil.

Quid est? Surrexit lingua vestra cattus

 te visurum - see you later

Quid est? Surrexit lingua vestra cattus - What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?

#demon!thomas #demon!thomas x reader #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #thomas x reader #hamilton #hamilton fic #demon au #dark!thomas #dark!thomas x reader #dark!thomas jefferson #dark!thomas jefferson x reader

[deja-you]

The RMS Titanic (and other ships that pass in the night)

t. jefferson x reader

Masterlist 

summary: you know your relationship with Thomas will only be a fleeting memory, but you allow your lives to collide nonetheless.

a/n: there are a few things you should know. this isn’t an actual Titanic au, there is no literal ship. the title will make more sense later. second, this story is going to be broken up into short 500-1000 word pieces so it’s more readable. that’s about it. let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist :) 

complete works masterlist

The Playlist

Part One | The Contemplation of Oxygen and Uniform

Part Two | The Bathroom Rendez-vous

Part Three | The Poet’s Pizza

Part Four | The Music on the Way Down

Part Five | The Treaty of Versailles

Part Six | The Librarian’s Cognizance

Part Seven | The Maelstrom and Maybes

Part Eight | The Divine Romantic Comedy

Part Nine | The Collision of Heaven and Earth

Part Ten | The Secrets that Didn’t Go Down with the Ship

Part Eleven | The Ways We Stay

Part Twelve | The Lighthouse

#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson imagine #thomasjefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #dark academia au #modern au #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs x reader #thomas jefferson fic #thomas jefferson fanfic #marquis de lafayette #lafayette imagine #lafayette fic #lafayette x reader #x reader #reader insert

[katie-writes24]

MASTERLIST ~

I HAVE AN AO3 NOW!!

Requests are currently paused, and these are the fandoms I write for atm:

*=smut

Hamilton

Alexander Hamilton:

Somebody Else

Standing Right In Front Of You

I’m Not Scared*

Last Chance

John Laurens:

The Last Time

Should’ve Asked For A Name

Say It Don’t Spray It

Marquis de Lafayette:

Avoid The Bumps*

Hercules Mulligan:

Big Heart, Little Things

Thomas Jefferson:

Standing Right In Front Of You

Fell Into The Same Arms

Pt.2

Cursed Blessings:

Chpt.1 ~ Chpt.2

Poly!Hamilsquad:

Five Of A Kind

Twisted Sheets*

Samuel Seabury:

What Would I Do Without You?

Jamilton:

The Choices We Make

Teen Wolf

Sterek:

Morning Whispers

His Dark Materials

Lee Scoresby:

Lonely Sky

Another Life, Another Adventure

Do No Harm

Ruben Marcado:

I’ll Be Your Escape*

I’ll Be Your Safe Place

#hamilton #his dark materials #teen wolf #hdm #hamilton imagine #teen wolf fic #lee scoresby x reader #hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton x reader #john laurens x reader #marquis de lafayette x reader #polyhamilsquad x reader #poly!hamilsquad x reader #hamilsquad x reader #Samuel seabury x reader #thomas jefferson x reader #ruben marcado x reader #do no harm #ruben marcado

[le-sejour]

Just Like You, Only Sweeter

Words: 1976

Pairing: wouldn’t u like to know jk it’s Thomas Jefferson x Reader with a surprise

World: Modern AU

Warning: Sexy, sexy things in here mhm (not smut tho, but pretty suggestive), also profanity and actual dickbaggery, angst

A/N: Hey hey hey hey hey so on this episode of “shouldn’t be writing this because I have requests to fill but still wrote it anyway” So I’ve been listening to my old music playlist back in 2010-ish? and ya kno how teenagers are w their edgy music and #Relatable lyrics. This fic was the love child of listening to All American Rejects and Fall Out Boy. Points if you can guess which songs inspired these lmao

Thomas groaned in pleasure, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you peppered kisses down his jaw to his neck. God, you were beautiful. So, so beautiful.

“Who has to know?”

You murmured against his skin as you mounted him, your black-lined eyes half-lidded and the stink of alcohol unmistakably heavy on your breath.

He knew this was just a one-night stand. A rebound. And he was perfectly fine with that. Your ex, Alexander Hamilton, had actually grown a pair big enough to come crawling back to Eliza, the woman he cheated on, leaving you to rot in your head for weeks on end.

You had planned on sulking around your apartment watching Friends reruns and binging on ice cream. Thomas had suggested getting drinks.

“He told me he would make it right with me.” You had sobbed into your multicolored drink, tears smudging your mascara somewhat. Your dark-skinned companion tried not to stare too much, but found that he couldn’t help it. You were mesmerizing even when you looked like a blotchy raccoon. His heart clenched. “He said he envisioned a future with me! A family an-and kids!”

“Hamilton’s an idiot, [F/Name].” He murmured matter-of-factly, instinctively using his thumb to wipe your tears away. He felt her skin jump at the contact. “He had the most scintillating woman in New York City, and he let it go. It’s his loss.”

His breath hitched when you looked up at him through damp lashes, still managing to look enticing despite crying for over three hours. His mind went into overdrive, desperately trying to keep the trickle of feelings at bay.

He watched with controlled interest as you worried your bottom lip, his heart beat pounding loudly in his ears. He can’t allow himself to give in. It was better this way, he chanted in his head like a mantra.

But oh, how her eyes shined iridescent against the dark.

“Would you have done the same, Thomas?” You whispered, leaning into him ever so slightly. His control was hanging by a thread. “Would you have left me like he did?”

He stared into your eyes once more, losing himself in them as he all but gave in to his desires.

“Never.” He whispered, voice strained and thick with want.

You closed the gap between you two, pressing your lips hungrily against his. You needed the friction, the intimacy. You wanted to feel wanted. And when you reached completion late into the night, your head thrown back in bliss as his hands still gripped your hips tightly, you’d like to think you were.

You never saw him around in the weeks following your drunken tryst. It was as if he never existed. He wasn’t in his apartment, or his favorite bar, or the library. You even tried visiting his workplace, but all you got was his secretary telling you he had opted to work from home.

Oh.

The silent walk back to your apartment was filled with sniffling and attempts to choke back your sobs, going through your memories of that night.

Did you say anything wrong? Was the sex bad? He had seemed so eager to bed you, and the morning after was spent lazing around and cuddling his apartment. What did you do? What changed that night after you went home?

You tried to ignore the tightening in your chest as you reached the front steps of your apartment building, but there was only so much you could do to reign in your emotions. Collapsing onto the steps, you sobbed uncontrollably into your hands.

Why is this happening to you? Didn’t Thomas like you? Didn’t Alexander like you? Did anyone like you?

“[F/Name]?”

You looked up from your pathetic, curled position, tears still streaming down your cheeks. Your heart seemed to heal instantly as you recognized those head of curls.

“Thomas.”

Thomas Jefferson was not an emotionally intelligent man.

He was cunning, and crafty, and wise beyond his years. But you’d be damned to think he was, in any way, in complete control of anything that doesn’t involve his head.

After your pity romp, he was a mess. The moment you kissed him had opened the dam that held all the things he felt for you at bay. It flooded out into every kiss, every stroke, every breathy moan he made because of your ministrations. It seeped into everything he touched.

And he was terrified.

He wanted to be with you every second of every day so badly it hurt. He wanted to care for you, support you. Be the reason for your smiles and laughter. The need to be yours never used to be this intense. It was jarring.

So he left.

It was much easier to be your friend. He could occasionally flirt with you without consequence, and you could spill every thought and opinion to him when even Alexander had trouble wheedling it out of you. Nothing was complicated, nothing was at stake. You both worked better that way. It was better that way.

Wasn’t it?

A month had passed, then two, into his self-imposed isolation and he began to doubt himself. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had let himself overthink your situation. But…

God, he was a jackass.

He had left you. You came to him in your hour of need and he took advantage of it. He left you for dead after being so intimate with you. You needed him, you were in pieces. And he left you.

You probably hated him. No, he was sure you hated him. With everything he’s done, he wouldn’t be surprised. He left you after explicitly saying he wouldn’t.

He’s definitely fucked up this time.

Grabbing his jacket, he made his way to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to do, or how to do it, he just knew he needed to make this right somehow.

You nervously picked at the assortment of flowers on your lap, your stomach churning with anticipation and nerves. Of course, you’ve practiced this whole thing plenty of times before. But actually being here, today, was definitely more than you bargained for.

“Hey,” You turned your head to acknowledge the voice, smiling slightly as you see the familiar face of James Madison. “It seems like almost everyone is here.”

The smile on your face was shaky at best, the anxiety in your eyes shining through. “Yeah? That’s-that’s good…”

James smiled at you reassuringly before stepping into the backseat with you. His warm presence enveloped the car, giving you a slight confidence boost. “You’re nervous.”

You laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s normal.” He answered, taking the bouquet from you before you pluck all the petals out. “What’s worrying you?”

“God,” Exhaling, you looked up, tears inexplicably welling in your eyes. “I don’t- This is insane. I never would have thought…”

The man beside you simply nodded in response, letting you have the moment to express yourself.

“Two years ago, I never would have imagined…” You trailed off, fanning your face in an attempt to blink back tears. “He’s everything I’ve hoped for and more, James. I-I’m scared that I’ll wake up and find myself on the front steps of my old apartment again…”

You were seated on a park bench, sun shining like a halo on you, as Thomas watched you laugh. Your hair fluttered gracefully as you threw your head back. He smiled, memorizing every curve and hollow of your face. He reveled in the fact that he was right. You were beautiful through and through.

His hand wandered slyly to your thigh, making you turn to him with an unreadable gaze. He smiled innocently, those pearly whites of his shining unabashedly. You rolled your eyes as your hands found his and laced your fingers together.

How could he have been that lucky?

He leaned over and whispered in your ear, causing you to turn red and shift in your seat. He pulled away to look at you, his eyes darkening with desire. Oh, how he wished to be the friction in those jeans you wore.

You leaned in to press a passionate kiss on his lips, your hands coming up to cradle his cheeks. He pulled you closer by the waist, nibbling on your bottom lip gently before separating.

With the grace of a cat, he pulled you up with him and brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, murmuring how he wanted to get you home and in bed as soon as possible.

How could you have been this lucky?

James led you to the huge cathedral doors, your gown flowing easily around you, while the veil you wore drifted to and fro at every move you made.

“Are you ready, [F/Name]?” You looked up as a fresh pool of tears made its way to your eyes.

“Thank you, Jemmy… For everything.” You whispered, throwing your arms around him in a tight, tearful hug. He returned the hug just as fiercely, your head tucked under his chin.

“I would never leave you alone like that, [F/Name].” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion and an edge you couldn’t describe. “Now go, Mulligan is waiting to walk you down the aisle.”

Nodding, you reluctantly let go of the man you had quickly considered a best friend within the two years you’ve known each other for. Straightening your back, you walked through the cathedral doors, entering the small lobby just before the main hall.

“And [F/Name].” James called out, causing you to turn slightly while Hercules fussed with your gown. “Remember, this is real. It’s real, and you deserve this.”

You beamed at him, watery and emotional, before being led away.

James stared into the cathedral, watching you float down the aisle like a cloud. Your back was turned to him but he could feel the happiness radiating from you as you passed friends and family.

A few seconds later, without as much as a turn of his head, he called out a name that hasn’t crossed his lips for a while now.

“Thomas.”

Without missing a beat, a figure loomed behind the smaller man before taking his place beside him.

“James.”

The Virginian, like his companion, stared straight into the cathedral, watching you finally reach the man who had helped you pick up the pieces. The man he saw making you laugh that day at the park. The lucky bastard who now gets to spend his days with you, build a family with you, grow old with you. All the things Thomas could now only dream about.

“Gilbert will make her happy.” James said, as if hearing the other man’s thoughts. They always did have an unnerving knack for reading the other. Thomas rolled his eyes.

“He has the most scintillating woman in New York City. Of course he’ll make her happy. He’d be an idiot not to…”

The other man said nothing, merely coughing into his handkerchief as silence fell over the pair of them.

“You know why she’s taken such a liking to him, right?”

Thomas opted not to reply, instead choosing to watch you recite your vows. He knew you were beautiful even on a normal day, but today you were simply breathtaking, even from his perch by the large, ornate doors. What he wouldn’t do to be the man standing at the altar with you.

“You left a bad taste in her mouth, Thomas.” They continued to watch the wedding, watched as you exchanged rings, watched as the priest gave people like Thomas a chance to speak. “Gilbert… He’s just like you. Only, sweeter.”

Silence filled the air of the cathedral as they waited for anyone to protest the union.

Thomas finally turned to James, his eyes brimming with tears as a few already trailed down his cheeks.

“I know.”

#hello darkness my old friend #why am i like thiiis #hamilton #thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson #lafayette x reader #lafayette imagine #marquis de lafayette #hamilton imagine #hamilfics #hamfics #hamiltrash

[newdayslinguine]

DNI list 🙄

Mcyt fans, especially hermitcraft, kpop stans, especially enhypen stans, she/theys, wes anderson movie enjoyers, glam rock fans, fanfic readers, marauders fans, gen z, dark academia, any academia aesthetic, anyone who has an aesthetic, dream smp fans, c! Karlnapity enjoyers, (ahem @theancientwonder get blocked loser), people who don’t go outside, white people, anyone who has ever spoken to a man, genshin players, musical fans, figure skating fans, anime fans, especially banana fish, ricky montgomery fans, country music enjoyers, people who think miku binder thomas jefferson is funny, sighted people, anemics, ‘self-diagnosed’ with anything, anyone who has ever watched rocky horror (whores), people from wyoming or gardiner montana because dont lie to yourself that’s basically wyoming, lesbians, geoguessr players, archie comics readers, people who have dream smp and weirdcore in their top 10 genres on spotify, lil nas x fans, people who play cats and soup, __ but it’s raining playlist enjoyers, armys, people with more than 10k channel points for any twitch streamer, people who can read, skrunkledunk subscribers

#this is entirely sarcastic and most of it applies to me anyway #except for wyoming. i hate wyoming. (/j/j please don’t hurt me it was just the first place i saw on my map next to me ok) #anyway treat this as a checklist besties

[jtargaryen18]

J’s Haunted House 2020

The Premise

A celebrity haunted house for charity will be open one night only, Halloween night. You spent days trying to get a ticket online for the event. Thanks to a bad day on Halloween, you get there only a minute before the line closes. You’re the last person to go in and thinking that’s either really bad (everyone is tired or would be in a hurry to see you out) or really good (maybe you’d get some extra time with the one you came to see).

You are never seen again.

The Collection

The stories with at least one new story posted each day of October. Enjoy!

Warning: The stories in this collection may contain dark themes, violence, non-con, dub-con and more. Please read responsibly. 

Overture (Klaus Mikaelson & Mike Weiss (not a romantic pairing)) by @jtargaryen18​

Haunted House (Adam (OLLA) x Reader) by @just-the-hiddles​

He Who Wields the Machete (Andy Barber x Reader) by @geniedetails​

Scream For Me (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @sweeterthanthis​

Murder, He Wrote | Part 2 (Ransom Drysdale x Reader) by @what-is-your-plan-today​ @southerngracela​

Hell Night | Part 2 | Part 3 (Curtis Everett x Reader) by @caffiend-queen​

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve | Part 2 | Part 3 (Curtis Everett x Reader) by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​

Possesionem (Brock Rumlow x Reader) by @nekoannie-chan​

Hunting Grounds (Ari Levinson x Reader) by @geniedetails​

Who Are You, Where Are We, And What the Hell am I Wearing? (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @brooklyn-1918​

The Soldier's Chase (Steve Rogers x Reader) @rosalynshields​

My Sweet Addiction (Carol Danvers x Reader) @imanuglywombat​

The Flip Side (Mr. Freezy x Reader & Mr.Freezy x Reader x Clay Apuzzo) by @mdemontespan1667​

Unhinged (Mr. Freezy x Reader) @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​

October the 31st, the day I disappeared (Curtis Everett x Reader) @holylulusworld​

Collide (Andy Barber x Reader) @avintagekiss24​

82 Alfred Street (Adam (OLLA) x Reader) @nildespirandum​

Slit Reflection (Sam Wilson x Reader) @awesomerextyphoon​

Hiding | Part 2 (somewhere in the night) (Jake Jensen x Reader) @bonkywobble​

Fallen (Clint Barton x Reader) @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​

Midnight in the Garden of Evil (Charles Blackwood x Reader) @jtargaryen18​

The Treat Is In The Trick (Nick Gant x Reader) @dbnightingale24​

High Castle (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) @searchforanotherway​

Carry and Deliver (August Walker x Reader) @threeminutesoflife​

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Shall We Go Inside? (Charles Blackwood x Reader) @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​

An Irresistible Offer (Loki x OFC) @myoxisbroken​

Stephen Spooky (Stephen Strange x Reader) @sherrybaby14​

The Mad Hatters’ Alice (Jefferson x OC) @rayofdawnworld​

Beyond the End (Thomas Sharpe x Reader) @frostbitten-written​

Run, Little Bunny (Charles Blackwood x Reader) @navybrat817​

Another Earth (Brock Rumlow x Reader) @chuuulip​

Original Sin (Bryce Langley x Reader) @stargazingfangirl18​

The Virgin Mother (Bucky Barnes x Reader) @fadingfics​

#JsHauntedHouse2020 #J's Haunted House 2020 #Halloween Challenge #Chris Evans #Mike Weiss #Puncture #Klaus Mikaelson #Tom Hiddleston #Adam #Only Lovers Left Alive #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Avengers #MCU #Ransom Drysdale #Knives Out

[swan-of-sunrise]

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Eighteen)

Summary: Jack uses his position as a captive of the Secret Empire to gather intel, and he winds up learning more about the elusive Michael Carter.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings/Disclaimers: References to torture

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Eighteen Location: Unknown (Previous Chapter)

Commander Jefferson Williams was the toughest man Jack had ever known, tougher than Chief Dooley and even tougher than his own father. The battle-hardened naval officer had imparted heaps of wisdom onto the countless men under his command during the war, but there was one piece of advice that Jack would never forget as long as he lived:

“OSA, boys, OSA. Observe, situate and adapt. Knowin’ those three things could mean the difference ‘tween life and death out here in the jungle so don’t you ever forget ‘em!”

When he joined the SSR after the war, Jack closely followed Williams’ advice and quickly rose through the ranks, becoming the second in command and eventually Chief of the New York branch. The advice had served him well over the years, but he never imagined in a million years that he’d be using it in a situation like the one he currently found himself in. The last thing he remembered before being knocked unconscious was dealing with the armed guards in the hangar and turning around to see the familiar smirking face of Thomas Attwell. Everything went dark after that, until he found himself blinking his eyes open and biting back a groan of pain.

Observe, Jack thought to himself as he slowly regained consciousness. He was in a darkened mid-sized room and what little light there was reflected off the metal walls; when he glanced down, he realized that he was sitting in a chair and his arms and legs were bound to it with ropes. The raincoat and fedora he’d been wearing were gone, so he could feel the biting air seeping into his limbs.

Situating himself was a little more challenging; the room had no windows, its only door was locked and with all the metal surrounding him, it was impossible to determine the outside weather. Attempting to focus his mind, Jack closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. It was after doing that for a handful of moments that he realized the floor was slightly shaking; like the floor of a subway car, he silently realized, or a moving train.

Before Jack could move to the third step, an overhead light flickered on and the metal door banged open to reveal two men and a woman. Dottie Underwood was smirking, presumably amused at seeing the man who’d once taken her down strapped to a chair and defenseless, and Thomas Attwell was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, making it clear to the self-described interrogation master of the SSR that he’d be getting a taste of his own medicine. But it was the man standing in front of them that Jack’s attention was instantly drawn to.

It was the first good look Jack had gotten of Michael Carter and while he was once again struck by just how much he looked like his little sister, he was even more surprised at how easy it was to get a read on him. Having hung around Peggy for as long as he had, he could tell when she was scheming and as he stared up into her older brother’s eyes, he knew in his gut that Michael was up to something.

The moment passed in the blink of an eye and Michael stepped further into the room, a hardened expression on his face. “So, you’re the Jack Thompson I’ve heard so much about.”

“And you’re Michael Carter.” Jack smirked a little despite his dire situation. “You’re lookin’ good for a dead guy.” He looked past Michael and raised a brow at his two companions. “Can’t say the same about your Commie pals, though.”

“Aw, I’ve missed you too, Blue Eyes.” With a wide smile, Underwood strode into the room and leaned against the wall beside him. “Surprised to see me?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders as best he could. “Not really. Vultures like you always tend to hang around rot like them.”

“Charming. Well, Chief Thompson, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here with us vultures,” Attwell’s narrowed eyes searched Jack’s, but he didn’t flinch under the man’s scrutinizing gaze. “And if you’re not, then you’re as arrogant of a man as Agent Cabrera claimed you were.”

Agent Cabrera’s the spy within the SSR, Jack thought with a sinking heart, his face remaining blank while his mind processed the shocking news; Cabrera had joined the SSR shortly after they’d apprehended Johann Fennhoff and he’d proven himself to be a skilled agent, so skilled that Jack had appointed him Acting Chief while he was away in Los Angeles. When it was revealed that the Secret Empire had a spy within the SSR, Jack hadn’t even considered that one of his best men back in New York was an enemy operative.

Attwell’s brow rose in surprise and he let out a low whistle. “Nothing? You’ve really got a lid on those emotions of yours, don’t you?” He glanced over at Michael with a smirk. “Perhaps he’ll talk if we pay a visit to Agent (Y/L/N) instead…”

Jack’s blood ran cold at the man’s taunt about (Y/N) but before he could react, Michael snapped, “If you and Underwood had done your jobs properly, then there wouldn’t be any need to worry about that. But no matter, Chief Thompson may prove to be useful on his own.” Turning back to Jack, Michael crossed his arms over his chest and continued. “We have it on good authority that you recently came into possession of a rather unique Arena Club pin. Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack lied with ease; naturally, he wasn’t going to tell them that the pin had been in Peggy’s possession since before his shooting. With a tilt of his head, Jack asked, “What’s your little Secret Empire want with an Arena Club member pin anyway? You guys fixin’ on joining up with what’s left of the Council of Nine?”

“The Council of Nine was a collection of frightened old men playing at being in power and thanks to Miss Underwood here, their feeble-minded organization’s been destroyed beyond repair.” Michael replied, his expression unreadable as he continued. “Nevertheless, that group of geriatric capitalists held the key to the unification of the Secret Empire and Leviathan and now that they’re gone, there’s nothing to stand in our way…except you. So I’ll ask you again, Chief Thompson: Where is the Arena Club pin?”

Jack’s eyes never left Michael’s as he frostily replied, “I. Don’t. Know.”

Nodding, Michael glanced over at Underwood and gestured towards the door. “Miss Underwood, would you be kind enough to inform your associates that we’re en route?”

“And miss all the swell fun here?” Underwood smirked. “Oh, not a chance.”

“Would you prefer that I contact them instead and inform them that their disobedient operative’s refused to comply?” Attwell challenged, and the grin on Underwood’s face slowly faded; shooting the man a dirty look, Underwood strode out of the small room and Attwell closed the door behind her. “She’s becoming a challenge to control.”

“Once we finally join with Leviathan, she won’t be our problem anymore.” Looking back down at Jack, Michael quirked a brow and smiled. “Now, Agent Cabrera made mention of the fact that you’re considered to be a highly-skilled interrogator at the SSR; he also said that you’d prove to be ‘a tough nut to crack.’ Let’s put that to a test, shall we?”

As Thomas Attwell’s fist made contact with Jack’s jaw, the last thing that flashed through his mind before the pain was (Y/N)’s beautiful smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack wasn’t sure how long his interrogation lasted, or even how he’d ended up out of his chair and sprawled on the floor of the room; all he could think about was the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. His left eye was beginning to swell shut, his jaw felt like raw meat, the blood dripping from his nostrils had finally ebbed…and that’s just what they did to his face. Attwell had held some sort of device to his neck that sent painful waves of electrical currents throughout his body, more painful than anything Jack had ever experienced in his life. The only thing giving him the strength to endure it all was (Y/N) and as his head sagged forward, all he could do was be grateful that they’d gotten ahold of him and not her.

“Shall we continue, or should we give Chief Thompson a chance to catch his breath?”

“We’ll let his wounds begin to heal and then continue where we left off. That should give us enough time to begin tracking down Agent (Y/L/N); it’s become apparent that he requires more…incentive to talk.”

With all the strength he had left, Jack raised his head and spat out, “You touch her and I’ll kill you both.”

Both men looked unfazed by his threat, and Michael leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll watch him while you and Underwood contact her fellow operatives back in England.” Attwell looked as though he was about to argue, but Michael quickly cut him off with a sharp glare. “This is a result of your blunder Thomas, so it’s your responsibility to fix it. We need that key to solidify our relationship with Leviathan and to give them the weapon they desire; otherwise, this all will have been for nothing.”

They stared at one another for several moments before Attwell clenched his jaw and stormed out of the room. Michael watched him go with a look of indifference on his face but when the door slammed shut, his expression twisted for a split-second before relaxing.

In that moment, all the pieces finally fell into place for Jack; the gunshot in the office of The Palladium, the door banging open and then slamming shut…all loud noises that occurred right before the cracks in Michael’s tough façade. It’s gotta be some sort of trigger, Jack thought through the haze of pain, which means that he really was brainwashed. Before joining the SSR, a notion like that would’ve made him scoff but now, something as crazy as mind-control wasn’t just theoretical, it was highly probable. With a plan forming in his mind, Jack let his body go slack on the floor and his eyelids begin fluttering.

“It would seem that Agent Cabrera was mistaken about you, Chief Thompson,” Through his lashes, Jack watched Michael snort in derision and push himself off of the wall. “You’re weak. Simple-minded, too, if you believe that we won’t succeed in making you talk.” He knelt down beside Jack and smirked. “Perhaps when Agent (Y/L/N) arrives, we’ll-”

Jack lunged forward, tackling a surprised Michael to the ground and grabbing a fistful of his dark brown hair before slamming his head down onto the ground; the man’s eyes were unfocused as his face tightened in discomfort and as Jack watched, his expression slowly shifted from anger to confusion. Still cautious, he didn’t stop pinning Michael to the ground as he commanded, “Tell me who you are!”

“Michael…Michael Carter, SOE.” Michael’s brow furrowed and he squeezed his eyes closed as he grimaced. “Thank God you cracked my codes in time. Please, I don’t know how long this’ll last so-”

“Not until I know which Michael I’m talking to…What’s the reason why your sister was almost expelled from boarding school?”

Michael’s brown eyes opened and the ghost of a smile slowly stretched across his face. “Peggy…Peggy was caught stealing the headmaster’s brandy and his wife’s knickers. Mother and Father were livid, but I secretly gifted her a congratulatory bottle of brandy that Christmas.”

Satisfied with his answer, Jack staggered to his feet and stifled a wince of pain. “You can’t read that in a file.”

“Is Peggy all right? She’s still in America?” Jack nodded and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’ve been trying to keep regular tabs on her for months now, but it’s been a challenge to hide my work from the others and…well, myself.”

He didn’t take his eyes off of the man sprawled on the ground before him, wary of any kind of treachery. “What happened to you during the war?”

“In 1940, the SOE ordered me to infiltrate Hydra; they faked my death, gave me a new identity but I was found out in ’44. My…” Michael groaned, clutching the side of his head as he stood. “My university flatmate’s brother, Thomas, he was a Hydra operative; he let their scientists experiment on me, scrambling my brain so that I’d become their mindless killing machine with no memories of my old life.”

Jack, whose eyes had begun darting around the room for an escape route, looked back at the dark-haired man with a frown. “Why not just kill you instead?”

“Hydra needed every human test subject they could get their hands on. Whatever they did to my mind worked at first, but then cracks began to form and I started remembering who I really was; I hid my condition from my fellow operatives for a year, right up until Hydra fell to Captain America and the SSR.”

“And what about the Secret E-?”

“We don’t have time to waste on explanations, Chief Thompson!” Michael cut him off, his jaw clenching as his hands rubbed at his temples. “If you found our airfield in Kent then you must’ve already located my file at the SFC, so listen carefully: inside the file is a code written in invisible ink. Have Agent (Y/L/N) decode it as quickly as she can, everything you need to know is within it. I-” Crying out in pain, the man doubled over and Jack hurried to his side; Michael’s eyes were squeezed shut as he spoke through clenched teeth, “My control…slipping away, we have…we have moments at best…a dream…visions, light, cheered, night, dream.”

Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion at the randomness of his words. “What-?”

“Destroy the key…destroy Zodiac…” His eyes flew open, and Jack was struck by how frightened they were as their gaze met. “Tell Peg that I…I’m…” He cried out again and fell to the ground, his hands clutching the sides of his head. “Go, now!”

Giving Michael one final look, Jack turned and flung open the door, darting out and shutting it as quietly as he could behind him. Shockwaves of pain coursed throughout his body as he limped across the train car, but just as he reached for the control panel to open the sliding divider door, he stopped himself; continuing on through the rest of the train would surely alert everyone on board and in no time, he’d either be strapped back into that wooden chair or he’d be dead. Looking up, he breathed a sigh of relief when his eyes landed on an overhead hatch; he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out in pain as he began climbing up onto a wooden crate and once he reached the top, he opened the hatch and hoisted himself up.

The shooting pain in Jack’s body nearly made him black out but he pushed through it, moving to sit on the roof of the train and kicking the hatch closed. Taking in the snow-covered trees and vivid white banks flanking both sides of the train, he deduced that they were traveling through Eastern Europe; Michael did mention that they were meeting up with Leviathan, he silently reasoned, which means that we’re somewhere in Russia. Wasting no time, Jack peeked over the side of the train and felt a surge of adrenaline when he caught sight of the large snow bank up ahead.

“Three…two…one…now!” He rolled off the speeding train and fell into the powdery snow below, groaning in pain as he slowly sat up and watched the train vanish into the distance. “Observe, situate and adapt, Thompson, c’mon.” He clambered to his feet and moved to stand behind a nearby tree as he followed the first step; the sun was sitting high in the sky, shining through the tree branches and reflecting off of the snowy landscape surrounding him. It was cold, much colder than inside the train, and he knew that once the sun set he’d be even colder; his suspicion about being somewhere in Russia was confirmed when he breathed in through his nose and smelled fish in the air, instantly recalling Peggy Carter’s words from so long ago…

“Do you know what the smell of herring in the air means in the middle of a Belarusian summer?”

“Mmm, someone’s having a fish fry?”

“It means that there’s wind blowing in from the Baltic, it means a snowstorm in July, and if you can smell the wind it means that you have thirty minutes to find shelter and build a fire before you die of hypothermia in the morning…”

“What the hell’s it mean in the winter, though?” Jack wondered aloud, his brow furrowing in worry. Knowing that time was running out, he quickly removed his standard-issue SSR wristwatch and twisted its face off to reveal the compass hidden underneath. He held it flat on his palm and watched as the compass needle moved to find north, an insane plan involving the nearest friendly village with a telephone and the infamous Howling Commandos already beginning to form in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This was a challenging chapter to write, not gonna lie, I couldn’t bring myself to actually write the torture scene because I got nauseated every time I tried so I’m sorry about that, but I hope you still enjoyed it! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Nineteen-Part One

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent​ @momc95​ @brooke0297​ @kinda-c0nfused​ @outoftheregular  @mads-weasley​

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #michael carter #dottie underwood #the howling commandos #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

[filmsmakkari]

It's Quiet Uptown

Wordcount- 1.4k

Hamilton!Tom Holland x Angelica!Reader

Tom Holland x Princess!Reader

I would recommend listening to the song here!

Full Series Masterlist

-Forgive me for the abrupt ending on this one, my ending worked better as a beginning for the next part :)

Years came and went, and eventually your nephew, Phillip, with whom you’d grown quite close, graduating from King’s College. You couldn’t have been more proud of him, but you were also slightly fearful. He had confided in you that he felt that as a college graduate, it was time to come into his own. “I must be my own man, like my father, but bolder,” he had said to you. Thomas must have been the boldest person you, or anyone your age would see in your lifetimes, so you feared what Phillip would do.

You feared he would do something outlandish, perhaps he would challenge every member of parliament to a duel or maybe he would marry one of those lovely young ladies that he’d met in the town square- Sasha and Ariana you believed they were called- and which ever one he didn’t marry he would invite to the consummation. You never could have guessed what he actually decided to do. You wished you had been there, you knew you could have talked it out of it, but when the event took place you were back in Jimbaari for a royal ceremony.

You were drafting a letter to your mourning brother in law- dear Peggy’s husband- to offer your condolences when your lady-in-waiting, Kiara of Cinera, rushed in with a letter in her hand. You looked up at her, confused at the sad expression on her face.

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m note sure how to tell you this, but Phillip… he was… he was killed in a duel with that lawyer, George Baker.”

Your heart dropped. Your eyes immediately filled with tears. “What?”

“Baker spoke against Thomas during the Victory Day parade. He disparaged Thomas’ legacy so Phillip challenged him to a duel, but before Phillip could walk ten paces, George turned around and shot him at seven- (Y/N/N), I’m so sorry.”

Your mind was going a million miles a minute. Nothing made sense. “No, no, I don’t understand… Phillip is the most gentle, caring soul I have ever had the pleasure to know- I... he would never… be involved in something like this.”

Kiara nodded sadly. “Yelizaveta and Thomas have decided to move uptown- to Irecabeth. In Thomas’ correspondence he beckoned you to their new home.”

You tried to reorganize your thoughts. Your dearest sister and the only man you’d ever truly loved were going through the unimaginable, and you needed to be there for them.

You sniffled, saying shakily “Um, yes, begin packing immediately and book passage on a ship to Irecabeth. I will write a letter to them.”

You did just as you said you would, picking up a quill and a fresh piece of paper, writing with shaking hands on a tear stained page.

It Read:

My Dearest, Eliza,

Words cannot express the deep sorrow I feel. The news that our dearest Phillip has passed away has brought me a sense of grief too terrible to name. As parents, we must hold our children as tight as we can, in turn  pushing away the unimaginable. Tomorrow I will find myself riding my most darling horse, Mignonette, through the gardens of Jimbaarian Court to review our troops. I find it most difficult to fathom the mere idea of doing such a thing with this news weighing on me. It is my opinion, that there are moments in life where you are in the melancholy sea so deep, it feels impossible to keep yourself afloat, so you think it prudent to simply swim down. It is this sea of gloominess in which I currently feel trapped.

My thoughts and sympathy are with you and our dear Thomas as you face this loss beyond compare. To bear a child is to know for the first time in one’s life, true love, And, on the other hand, to lose a child is to know true pain. I cannot begin to imagine feeling such devastation. I wonder how the lord in his goodness could deal such a fatal blow to our family.

My usual eloquence seems to have left me, as I seemingly cannot produce more words on this subject. In closing, I would like to note I accept your invitation, and will do my best to make my way to Irecabeth as soon as possible.

Votre sœur la plus aimante, affectueuse et vraie,

(Y/N), Empress of Jimbaari

You were back in Larione in what felt like an eternity later, when in truth it had only been a few days. You approached Thomas and Eliza’s new home, the picture of grief, your long black cloak trailing behind you as you walked. When you knocked in the door, it was opened by a very different Thomas than when you’d last seen him. Much of his hair had gone grey, and there were dark circles around his eyes.

His eyes widened at the sight of you. “Oh, (Y/N).” He immediately grabbed you, engulfing you in a tight hug. You reciprocated, wrapping your arms around him as well. His body racked with sobs as he cried into your shoulder.

“It’s been so difficult, (Y/N). So difficult. Phillip… Phillip never hurt a soul, (Y/N), he must have been so scared.”

Tears filled your eyes as Thomas essentially restated your words to Kiara, only said differently. You slowly rocked the both of you back and forth, two parents grieving the loss of a child. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not your feelings for him, not the Reynolds Pamphlet, not Anthony Monroe, or Christopher Jefferson, or Aaron Blackwell.

You managed to compose yourself enough to ask about Eliza’s whereabouts.

“She’s out back, in the garden.”

You smiled and nodded, giving him a kiss on the cheek before making your way to your sister.

She looked like the living dead. Her eyes weren’t focused, she was just staring off into the distance, her face was stained with tears, the whites of her eyes were red. If your heart hadn’t already been ripped apart, it certainly would have shattered in that moment, seeing your sister that way.

“Oh, Eliza,” you said, rushing over to the planter on which she was sitting.

Her eyes came into focus, brightening up at the sight of her dearest older sister.

“(Y/N)!” she cried out.

You ran to each other, meeting in the middle and hugging tightly.

“Oh, my dear girl. I wish it might be in my power by actions rather than words to ease your pain.”

“Oh, sister, it brings me unimaginable joy to see you here now,” she released you from the hug, walking you both back to the planter and taking a seat. “Especially now that our dear sweet Peggy has passed on, your presence is of the utmost comfort.”

You stayed in Larione for weeks, comforting your sister and brother in law, as well as your adoring nieces and nephews, most of whom did not understand that their dearest loving, protective, gentle older brother was never, ever, coming back. Most of all, you watched out for your oldest niece, (Y/N).

You were her namesake, and you two had always been close. She’d been the closest with Phillip, the pair of them had been inseparable. When she heard of her brother’s passing, she suffered a mental breakdown, which lead to what the doctor’s said would be a lifetime of insanity. She still spoke of her brother. It was as if he hadn’t died at all. It had pained you so deeply that you had to leave the room when you were playing the piano together and she said, “Oh, we simply must perform for Phillip! He and I have been working on this song for ages!”

The pain was almost unbearable. You found yourself contemplating if life was worth all the suffering. You had never had your own children with your husband, so you had always held Phillip and (N/S) in the same regards you would have held your own children.

One day, you were reading a book near an open window. You saw a movement out of the corner of your eye, and when you looked up you saw Thomas and Eliza, standing close. She took his hand, and said so quietly, “It’s quiet uptown.”

You sighed, a soft smile decorating your face. “Forgiveness. Can you imagine?”

The grace with which Eliza was handling the situation was almost too powerful to name. Perhaps seeing your sister dealing with the situation with such courage is what inspired you to begin to rebuild your contentment.

And little by little, you did. Little by little, it got better.

#tom holland angst #tom holland x princess!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #hamilton fanfic #hamilton

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Closer

*Thomas Jefferson x Reader

*Summary: Reader is very into one of her housemates. After a couple house parties, she finds out he’s very into her.

*Warnings: Swearing, drinking, (mentions of) weed smoking, jealousy, insecurity, smut, grinding, hickies, tiddy sucking, fingering, vaginal sex, (my attempt at) dirty talk, a lot of consent check-ins, morning after awkwardness

*A/N: I’VE FINALLY BEEN DRIVEN TO WRITE SMUT. Like, this was hard for me but I had fun writing it (this fic is 8k words oops). Also sorry if it’s not the best, I really did try.

My Ko-Fi

**********

You had two major rules for living with people: never sleep with them, and definitely never develop feelings for them. In your two years of living in the dorms you’d managed to abide by those rules, but you faced the biggest challenge to your rule the second you stopped living in the dorms. In your third year, you moved into a housing option that was a lot cheaper than the dorms or a regular apartment. The house you moved into was pretty small - only 12 people - so everyone saw a lot of each other. Cue the start of your troubles.

When you first had a video call with the other members of your house, your eyes immediately were drawn to one corner of the screen. Sure, you’d joined in the middle of a conversation so his box was highlighted, but you were sure you would have been watching his little screen anyways. You could tell he was sitting in bed - wherever he was - and he was already familiar with a few of the people in the call from the way he was chatting with them. He had a neatly trimmed beard, curls forming a halo around his face, a bright smile, and a pair of black glasses just pulling the look together, even if you didn’t really know what look that was.

When he gave his little introduction piece, you knew this would be trouble. Not only was his voice attractive, he also had a bit of a southern accent, which just doubled his attractiveness. Everyone went through their introductions, you being one of the last people because you didn’t volunteer until a lot later on. When people had the chance to ask questions, the guy - Thomas - decided to speak up. “Is that a (favorite show) poster behind you?”

You looked back at your wall like you didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. You were just surprised he pointed it out. “Oh, uh, yeah! It is!”

“Nice!” Thomas told you, giving you a bright smile. You could feel your breath catch at the sight, but you managed to smile back. As the call ended with one other person giving their introduction, you could already tell you were in trouble. You knew you couldn’t pursue anything with Thomas even if it happened that he also found you attractive. It wasn’t only that you’d be living with him, no; he was also one of the house managers, so if things ended bad, he could really make your living situation not the best. But still, there was nothing stopping you from finding him attractive.

When you moved in, you immediately ran into Thomas. You knew you were supposed to check in with Angelica so she could get you your keys, but she was helping someone else at the moment. “Hey, you’re (y/n), right?” Thomas asked, sitting at the dining room table as you just stood there waiting for Angelica.

“Y-yeah, I am,” you stuttered, silently cursing how nervous you were around him. This was your first time meeting the guy in person, and you were really going to make a fool of yourself, weren’t you. You looked back to where Angelica had disappeared upstairs, wondering just how long she would take.

“Well, I’m Thomas,” he introduced himself, standing from his seat. “I can take you on a tour of the house while you wait for Angelica if you want.”

“Uhm, sure, that’d be great!” You immediately accepted, feeling your face warm from the entire interaction. Thomas walked up next to you, nodding for you to follow him. Your parents were waiting outside for you to get your keys so they could help you move in, but since you had some time, why not?

**********

It didn’t take long for everyone to start feeling comfortable around each other. The only real issues there were in the house were arguments Thomas and Alexander would get into, but even those wouldn’t get too bad. Within a month of everyone moving in, it really started to feel like a little family. Which made your attraction to Thomas that much worse. You thought it would go away once you got to know the guy and it would fade into a friendship, but you were dead wrong. The more you got to know the guy, the harder you fell. The way he joked, the way he made sure you weren’t talked over (and if you were, he always made sure to come back to you and ask what you were going to say), almost everything about him made you realize it wasn’t just surface level attraction.

By the end of the first month, a few of your housemates - John, Alexander, and Laf - planned a little party in the living room. It was just for your house, but it really sounded like they were planning to throw a rager. You weren’t really one for parties, but it sounded like it could be fun. The fact that Thomas said he would be going had nothing to do with it.

When the day of the party came, you didn’t really know what you were going to do. You knew Thomas was going to be there, and Peggy really wanted to go, so after spending the afternoon deciding, you started getting ready for the party. You showered, pulled on a dress you saved for going out (not that you really went out in the first place), put your makeup on, and just sat there waiting for Peggy to get ready.

“This is gonna be so much fun! I saw Alex and John come in with the drinks for later and they bought so much,” Peggy gushed as she tried deciding between dresses. She finally turned to you. “Which one looks better?”

“Depends on the look you’re going for. The one on the right is definitely cute, but the one on the left is great if you’re trying to look hot,” you told her after a moment of looking at the options. She put the dress on the right back in the closet. Once she actually knew what she wanted to wear, she quickly got ready. As she was getting ready, there was a pounding on the door. Peggy went to go look, but whoever had done that was already gone. You already knew you were running a bit late, but who ever really showed up to parties on time?

The music wasn’t too loud when you and Peggy got to the living room half an hour after the party was supposed to start. The lights were off, save for one of those multi-color party lights, balloons were all over the floor, and some colorful YouTube video was playing on the TV. Alex and John were already drinking, quickly pulling Peggy to the booze table to make her something. Herc and Laf were sitting on one of the couches, just chatting, and Thomas was hanging near the pool table, talking to Maria. Maria looked gorgeous, red satin slip dress hugging her figure and sheer thigh-high stockings creating an image you could only hope to compete with. You left the living room, going to get yourself some water from the kitchen.

Just going across the hall was a huge difference. Aaron was sitting at the table, laptop in front of him as he worked on something. Angelica and Eliza were in the kitchen, making something that you were definitely going to try later. “Do you know what they’re making in there?” You asked Aaron as you filled your cup.

“No idea, but I know I’m going to have to clean it afterwards,” Aaron complained, looking up from his work. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. Are you going?” You nodded your head towards the living room.

“No, I have work to do tonight. Have fun, though.” To be honest, that was probably the longest conversation you’d had with Aaron. He normally kept to himself, except when he was dragged into hangouts with the house by other people. You took your cup of water and went back to the living room, seeing Peggy, John, and Alex huddled around Alex’s phone as they put more songs in the queue. Thomas was drinking something from a mason jar, though in the dim light you really couldn’t see what it was.

“Hey, (y/n), you look cute,” Thomas said as he walked up to you. You immediately looked down at your cup and mumbled a thank you. There was just something about being called cute that hit different, especially when it comes from someone you were very attracted to. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m good, I’m playing adult tonight,” you told him, holding up your cup a little. You finally looked at Thomas, the colored lights casting a mix of reds and blues on his skin. He was wearing a button up shirt, different from the t-shirts and tanks you’d seen him in before. When you looked a little further down, you saw he was wearing basketball shorts. That would just make it easier to- you stopped the thought there. You didn’t know where it came from, you couldn’t even blame any alcohol in your system. Instead, you blamed it on the colored lights in the dark room, creating an almost intimate atmosphere.

“Thank you. Would you mind cutting John off when he starts getting a little, you know?” You nodded. You did know. John was a bit of a sloppy drunk, but he hated when anyone pointed it out. That’s why every drinking night needed a designated adult. Thomas took another drink before nodding to the empty couch. “You wanna sit? No one’s really dancing yet.”

You nodded again, following Thomas to the couch. Even when the music picked up, only a few people were really dancing. Thomas got up a few times to refill his cup, but he never really left your side. The two of you talked through the night, and you found yourselves getting closer as the night went on. His attention was entirely on you, even brushing off Maria when she tried to pull him to dance. There were a few songs where you actually wanted to dance, and Thomas practically jumped at the chance to dance with you. Eventually the music changed to slower stuff, and you went back to sitting down with Thomas.

You really tried to stop your mind from racing at the proximity, but you couldn’t help it. As the two of you talked, the lights still dancing across his skin, you could see yourself closing the small gap, kissing him. Every now and then he’d brush his fingertips across your skin, but you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. Your skin burned with the slight brushes. Your mind ran to what his touch would feel like if it was more purposeful, how his skin would feel under your fingers. When he leaned forward, brushing some hair from your face, you wondered if he would always be this gentle.

Thomas was mid-sentence when it finally became too much. You took the chance, leaning in and pressing a questioning kiss to his lips. He tensed, and you immediately went to pull back. When he realized what you were doing, he brought his hand up to the back of your head, holding your face to his. The kiss started gentle, but it got more insistent as it went on. You could feel the party around you just melt away as the two of you kissed, your hands feeling his arms as you let yourself fall victim to your wants. You couldn’t tell if the kiss had lasted for minutes or hours, but you knew you must’ve looked a mess.

“Do you want to come up to my room?” Thomas asked, breathless and low enough for just you to hear. You nodded, and Thomas immediately stood, leading you by the hand. You could hear John’s drunken cheers as you and Thomas went up the stairs. His room wasn’t far from the stairs, and it didn’t take long for you to end up in his bed. His body lightly pinned yours on the bed, one of his thighs between yours. Thomas broke the kiss, only to trail kisses down your neck as his hands ran up and down your body.

“Thomas, please,” you said, not really sure what you were asking for.

“I know, Sugar.” You could feel his smirk against your skin. “I want you too.”

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” Thomas said, standing up. You were shocked at his sudden announcement. It wasn’t even just to you, he announced it to the whole party. He gave you a small smile before turning to leave the room. Just before he left, he turned around once more. “Reminder that quiet hours start in an hour, adjust the music accordingly.”

As soon as Thomas left, you could feel your social battery dying. You should’ve known better than to allow yourself to fantasize about what could’ve happened that night, just because he was paying attention to you. It didn’t take long for you to call it a night after that, just feeling exhaustion that wasn’t there before as you took off your makeup and changed into some sleep clothes. As you laid in bed, waiting for sleep to come to you, you couldn’t help as your mind replayed the night and your fantasies. The last thought you had was of the way Thomas looked in the colored lights, and the phantom feeling of his lips on yours, even though you never actually felt them.

**********

In the week following the party, you and Thomas went back to just how you were before. You were a little disappointed, but your mind immediately went to justifying the change. Or rather, lack of change. He’d been drinking a bit. He knew you felt out of place with all the drinking and weed smoking going on. He probably wanted to make sure you were feeling okay since you’d had a few conversations about how quickly your social battery died. There were all of these possibilities, but nothing was ever confirmed. So you just went back to how things were.

Then Laf planted a seed in your mind. It was delivery time - that time of night when everyone’s packages got delivered and people would either grab their packages and open them in their room, or open them in the dining room in front of everyone else. You’d just ordered a cute romper in an attempt to feel something, so you opened it in front of the rest of the group. “That’s so cute! You know, it seems like something the type of girl Thomas goes after would wear,” Laf announced when you held up the romper.

“What are you talking about?” James asked as he opened his own package, not even looking up. It was some lights for the little garden he was starting in his room. Maria was very invested in the new shoes she’d ordered, but you could tell she was still listening.

“They’d be cute together! You guys should go on a date, I’ll set it up,” Laf continued, focusing his attention on you now. “I ship them! They’re my new ship!”

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked, coming out from the kitchen. You looked down, folding the romper as fast as you could.

“Nothing,” Laf said. You looked up just in time to see Laf wink at you.

“Alright.” You could tell Thomas didn’t believe him by the side-eye he was giving him, but you were glad Laf didn’t announce it any louder than he already did. When you and Peggy got back to your room, you couldn’t help but tell her about the seed Laf had planted. Sure, you found Thomas very attractive, but the concept of a relationship with him had never entered your mind. Until now. Of course Peggy just made fun of you, but you knew it was all in good fun.

It took two days for that seed to be completely destroyed. You started to notice Thomas and Maria hanging out a lot more than they did before; they were almost constantly talking to each other, and there was once that you went upstairs to use the bathroom and saw Maria leaving Thomas’s room. You were in the living room watching a movie with the Schuylers when Thomas came in. “Hey, Maria and I want to watch something after, can you text me when you’re done?” Thomas asked Angelica, not even acknowledging anyone else.

“Yeah, sure,” Angelica told him. With that, he left the living room.

“Your boyfriend’s cheating on you,” Peggy teased, not loud enough that anyone else could hear her.

“Can we not do this right now?” You whispered, already feeling your chest tighten. Of course you should’ve known. People like Thomas never went for people like you, they would always end up with people like Maria. Why would you let Laf even give you the slightest bit of hope that things would be different? Peggy’s face immediately fell when she saw just how you looked.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but you just shook your head. Why was she sorry? It wasn’t her fault. This was just on you.

For the next week, you avoided Thomas and Maria as much as you could. You took your dinners to your room to just eat and watch (favorite show), you didn’t really talk to them if you were in the same room as them, you didn’t go out of your way to hang out with them. If they noticed, they never said anything to you. Then again, it wasn’t really like you gave them the chance to.

**********

You wanted to keep your distance from your housemates, but John pulled you into agreeing to go to yet another house party. It would just be for your house again, but this time he’d managed to get everyone to agree to come. He didn’t even let you be late, grabbing you and Peggy from your room as soon as the party started. So there you were, standing by the pool table, sipping some drink that was way too strong (Aaron was designated adult this time), just watching the party around you. Maria was already there, wearing yet another dress that made her look absolutely gorgeous, but Thomas was nowhere to be seen. 

“James, where’s your friend?” John practically yelled over the pounding music.

“He’s coming, don’t worry,” James said, rolling his eyes. You tensed at the confirmation, even though you knew he was going to be there. Before you could really think about it, Laf pulled you onto the dancefloor. Laf and Herc made sure that you were enjoying yourself, dancing with them and making sure you didn’t have the chance to think about it too much. Laf knew everything that was going on, trying to tell you that he was sorry about the entire ‘shipping’ thing. You just waved it off, not wanting to let it ruin the fun you were having.

You don’t know how many songs you danced with them before you needed to take a break and get some water. They finally let you out of their sights as soon as you promised to come back the second you were done. You appreciated their concern for you, but it was starting to get a little stifling. As you stood by the sink, glass stained with the red of your lipstick, you let your mind wander once again. You had been too busy dancing to pay attention to the party around you, but you guess Thomas must’ve arrived at some point. Had he been dancing with Maria? Did he even care you were there?

It was like the universe took your questioning as manifestations, and you wondered why it didn’t do that for literally anything else you tried manifesting as Thomas walked into the room. “I thought I saw you leave. You look really cute.”

You looked down at your outfit, taking in the romper that you’d bought not too long ago - a button down with a thick belt at the waist. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at that, tried to remember the past few weeks where Thomas was completely focused on Maria, but your heart seemed to not get the message. “You know, you never compliment me outside of parties,” you decided to address the situation head on. “Is Maria waiting for you?”

“What?” Thomas seemed like he genuinely had no idea what was going on. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I mean, the two of you have been spending a ton of time together, I’d expect you’d come to the party together,” you almost snapped.

“What about Laf and Herc? You seemed pretty close to them tonight,” Thomas immediately argued. You should’ve known he wouldn’t just let you snap at him without biting back.

“They’re just making sure I have a good time. Like you did last time,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna go back.”

You heard Thomas say your name as you went back to the living room, but you kept walking. When you got back, Laf and Herc were immediately by your side. You gave them a soft smile, which they quickly returned. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to start to set in, your legs starting to hurt and your eyes starting to tire. You sat down in the corner of the couch, watching the party continue around you. It didn’t take long for Thomas to take the spot next to you. “I’m sorry.”

You just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Maria needed help with her statistics class and we’ve been spending time together because of that. I didn’t realize you’d take it the wrong way.”

“I’m so stupid.” Thomas looked confused. “I should be the one apologizing. I just kind of decided you didn’t like me.”

Thomas scooted closer, taking your hand in his. “Yeah, I kind of realized that. I really do like you, though.”

“Cool,” you said, not knowing how to really react in this situation. Thomas laughed, shaking his head as you felt the heat rise in your face. “I… uhm… I’m kinda feeling tired. I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

Thomas looked dejected before understanding crossed his features. “Your social battery?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Is it even midnight?”

Thomas checked his phone. “Just about. Do you want to come to my room?”

You stared at him blankly, your heart racing at the question. It was almost exactly like your fantasy at the last party, not that he’d know it. He had to know how that sounded, right? It seemed to take him a second to realize it, eyes widening. “I mean, just to hang out somewhere calm. I want to spend more time with you.”

“And what’s wrong with my room? People will notice if I go upstairs instead of just down the hall,” you argued, leaning closer to him.

“I know you have a bunk and I don’t want to sit on Peggy’s bed.”

“You could sit at my desk.”

“Under your bunk? That kind of defeats the purpose of hanging out.” Thomas rolled his eyes at your obvious deflection. You were just giving him a hard time at this point, still a little vindictive even if the only real issue over the past few weeks had been because of you.

“Alright, but don’t be surprised if I end up just passing out,” you agreed. Thomas gave you a blinding smile. “How are we gonna do this? If we leave together people are gonna talk.”

“Let them,” Thomas said, standing up and offering his hand to you. You took it.

Amazingly, no one seemed to notice the two of you leaving except for Aaron who shot you a pained look. You felt kind of bad for leaving him alone to everyone else, but your social battery really was dying and Thomas was offering an escape. He lead you up the stairs, down the hall a little to his room. The door was already slightly open - just so he wouldn’t have to carry around his key - but he opened the door further to let you in first. It was your first time seeing Thomas’s room, and it really fit him. He had a few pictures on the wall above his desk, the desk itself was neatly organized - textbooks stacked on one side, laptop in the center, a few pencils next to it. His bed was pushed to the corner near his desk, black comforter and deep magenta pillowcases different from the typical college dude bedding.

“You can sit down if you want,” Thomas said, walking over to his closet. He grabbed a t-shirt from one of the drawers. “I’m just gonna go change my shirt, you can sit on the bed or the chair, whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

Thomas left the room, and you decided to sit on the bed, still unsure of what you were doing. Your fantasy from the last party kept replaying in your mind, reminding you of just how different these circumstances were. You pressed a couple fingers to your wrist, feeling your racing pulse. You didn’t know why you were so nervous. You were pretty sure nothing was going to happen, but the images of Thomas kissing you, him touching you, it made your mind go crazy. Before you could talk yourself out of it, Thomas came back. “So, uh, what do you wanna do? We could listen to some music, or watch a movie…”

“Can we just listen to some music? Like, something softer though,” you said. Just listening to music seemed less intimate than watching a movie on his laptop with him, even though you really didn’t know why. Thomas nodded, turning on his speaker on his desk. He handed you his phone.

“You can choose,” he told you, sitting on the bed next to you. He pressed his back against the wall, watching you as you shared one of your playlists to his phone. Even though you could feel him watching, you missed the way his eyes took in your profile in the harsh light of his room. “Do you mind if I switch off the main light and turn on my desk light instead?”

“You know, this is sounding more and more sus as you keep talking,” you told him as your music started playing from his speaker. You turned the volume down a little, letting the music be just loud enough to provide some background noise. It was just what you needed to recharge. “But yeah, the ceiling lights are really harsh.”

Thomas got up to fix the lighting situation before taking his spot next to you once again. The two of you just sat there quietly, close but not quite touching, letting the soft sounds of your music wash over you. A few songs passed before you decided to just make your move, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder. You were still pretty drained from the party, and the excuse was ready if he was going to question you. He didn’t.

When he brought his hand up to play with your hair, you didn’t say anything. You enjoyed the gentle brush of his hand, almost as if he was afraid to disturb you. You closed your eyes, focusing on his touch. He started near your hairline, his fingers tracing a curve behind your ear, whispering down your jawline for a second before repeating the process. Time wasn’t real in your little bubble, the only clue being the songs changing in the background. “(Y/n)?” Thomas asked, voice low like he was trying not to break the atmosphere.

You hummed in response, eyes still closed, and you could feel Thomas’s soft laughter more than you could hear it. “I thought you fell asleep.”

“If you keep playing with my hair I just might,” you teased, smiling as you opened your eyes to look up at him. You were slightly taken aback at the way he looked at you, but you tried not to show it. It took you a second before you could finally place it - adoration. It was completely soft, something you never really saw on him before. You could see him leaning in, but he stopped a hairsbreadth away. You waited to see if he would close the miniscule gap or if you should, but then he spoke.

“Can I?” He practically whispered, bringing his hand up to caress your jaw. You nodded even as your heart pounded in your chest. Thomas stayed for a second as though he was giving you a chance to back out, and when you didn’t take it, he closed the gap. The kiss started out gentle, like he was still worried you would change your mind. You were enjoying yourself and the slow pace, but when your mind started taunting you with the things that could happen, you decided to take a chance. You brushed the tip of your tongue against his bottom lip, and he gladly took your sign to deepen the kiss.

Thomas kept one hand cupping your jaw, but the other moved to rest on your hip. The feeling of his hand sent a jolt through you, even through the layer of clothing still separating his skin from yours. You put a hand on the bed to reposition yourself, but Thomas pulled you onto his lap, your core resting on him. You let out a small gasp at the sudden move. Thomas pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Is this okay?” He mumbled against your skin.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, it’s good.” You were a little flustered at the position, but you definitely weren’t complaining. Thomas grasped your chin, tilting your face to look directly in your eyes. Your gaze darted down to his lips, trying to look anywhere but his eyes. You could tell he was studying you, your reactions. He brushed his thumb against your bottom lip, dragging it down just slightly.

“You’re so damn cute,” he murmured before kissing you breathless. Your hands went up to cup his jaw, holding him to you, while his settled on your waist. You went to adjust your position, accidentally grinding against him. Thomas let out the most sinful groan, breaking the kiss to rest his head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, it just felt so-”

He was cut off by another groan as you grinded against him again. You bit your lip, feeling him harden underneath you. “Don’t apologize.”

Thomas brought you back down for another kiss, his hand on your hip now guiding your movements against him. You softly whined into the kiss, every sensation heightened by the dim room, the soft music. He broke the kiss, laughing slightly as you tried to chase his lips. Before you could say anything, he started kissing down your neck, nipping and soothing the spots with his tongue. As he worked, you started grinding against him faster, needing something to ease the heat pooling in you.

“I need you so bad,” you whined as he worked a spot on your collarbone. Thomas let go of your skin with a wet noise, looking up at you with hooded eyes.

“You sound so pretty when you’re needy,” Thomas said, smirking up at you. He brought his hands up to the buttons of your romper, the question evident in his eyes. You nodded, and he started slowly undoing your romper, pressing a kiss to each inch of skin revealed to him. “You’re gorgeous, Sugar.”

A shiver ran through you at his words, but you ignored it, instead opting to reach for the hem of his t-shirt. “What’s fair’s fair?”

“Of course.” Thomas took the chance to flip your positions, taking off his shirt as your back bounced slightly against the bed. You couldn’t help your sharp inhale as his shirt hit the floor. You knew he was built from what you saw around the house, but seeing him without any barriers was a completely different situation. His abs were solid, something you saw briefly the one time he lifted his shirt to clean his glasses in front of you, so you took the chance to drink in the sight. As your eyes trailed back up his body, he saw him looking down at you with a smirk. He was attractive and he knew it.

He was getting a little too smug for your liking. You wouldn’t normally consider yourself a bold person, but your next move definitely was. You slightly lifted yourself up, undoing your belt and smoothly sliding it off. You pushed the top of the romper off your shoulders, taking a quick glance to see Thomas’s attention completely on you. His smirk had fallen, but his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. You reached behind you, unhooking your bra in one movement (a silent victory on your part). Thomas eased himself down beside you, trying to hide his eagerness, but you could see it in his eyes. The second you tossed your bra to the side, Thomas was back on you, kissing you deeply as his hands explored your chest.

Whatever upperhand you had was gone as Thomas’s thumb ran back and forth over your nipple, drawing a keening whine from the back of your throat. You could feel his smirk as his lips left yours, kissing down your neck again. He nipped at your collarbone, licking at the spot before trailing his tongue across the tops of your breasts. Your hand flew up to hold the back of his head, needing to feel more of his mouth on you.

“You’re so responsive for me, Sugar,” Thomas hummed. “The way your body just acts on its own, the little noises you make for me, it’s intoxicating. All I’ve done is kiss you, we haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.”

“Do you get off on the sound of your own voice?” You asked, gasping as his hand kneaded your breast. His movements were lazy, like he was ready to just have a conversation about this while teasing you to the point of madness.

“No, but I can tell you do.” He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to point it out like that. Your silence spoke volumes. He decided to take pity on you, kissing and sucking on the breast he wasn’t kneading. Thomas’s first licks across your nipple were teasing, watching your reactions. You knew you couldn’t be loud - you couldn’t even step in the house without someone hearing you - but the electricity running through you at his touch was making that insanely difficult for you. When he used just the right amount of teeth, even you were surprised at the moan you let out.

Thomas didn’t make any move to quiet you, instead switching over to the other breast. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, switching between holding him to your breast and fisting your hand in the blanket beside you. You tried pressing your thighs together, but Thomas’s body on yours made that almost impossible. He grinded down on you, letting out his own little groan at the slight relief the pressure offered. Thomas brought one of his hands to your waist, teasing at where your romper was still on your body. You whined when his mouth left your skin, not that you’d admit to it. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes, please,” you told him. Thomas sat up, watching you for any signs of discomfort as he fully took your romper off. As he went to shed his own shorts, you leaned back on your elbows, watching. Even though his basketball shorts had already done little to conceal his arousal, seeing the tent in his boxers sent another rush of arousal through you. You spread your legs for Thomas to take his rightful spot between them, which he quickly did. He brought his hand to your core, running his fingers over the fabric there.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Thomas groaned, rubbing a little harder. “This all because of me?”

“You know it is,” you tried snipping, but his thumb finding your clit through your panties made it sound more like a plead for something. “Thomas, please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he teased. “You want more already?”

You nodded. It was almost comical how fast your panties came off, but feeling his fingers against your lips quickly threw any humor you found in the situation out the window. He ran a finger along your slit, watching as you threw your head back against his pillows. You didn’t see the smirk that graced his lips again, watching the way you quickly fell apart under his touch. He hadn’t even done that much, but he wanted to see what’d you do when he actually took you apart.

The wetness between your legs glistened even in the dim light, and Thomas unknowingly licked his lips. There would be time to taste you later - he had the feeling if he went now, he’d be there all night. He dipped his finger into your entrance, teasing like he had been all night. You let out a soft whimper, half ready to beg, but then he gave you what you needed. He carefully inserted his finger into you, feeling around for your spot while his thumb worked your clit. Your soft noises were driving him crazy; even though they weren’t loud, they were mesmerizing, and he wondered how you’d sound if you didn’t have to worry about being overheard.

As he pumped his finger in you, he made sure to drag it along your wall, dragging out every little whimper he could. You tried to close your thighs on his hand, but he held them open with his free hand. Thomas wanted to see what he was doing to you, see your arousal glistening on his finger. Once he was sure you were ready, he slid another finger into you, drawing your loudest moan yet at the stretch. He curled his fingers, sending a shock of pleasure through you. He smiled when he felt you shudder, knowing he found it.

Thomas’s attention on your clit and the pressure on your spot was bringing you to your edge and fast. Your fisted hand in his sheet was pulling it down, your other hand trying to muffle the noises you were making. You weren’t normally so vocal in bed, but the way Thomas was playing your body just brought out this side that you never knew about. “I’m close,” you panted out the warning.

“Then cum for me, Sugar. Cum on my fingers.” It wasn’t an order, but your body listened to him like it was. You bit into your arm to hide your moans, and you swore you were close to breaking skin. Thomas worked you through it, his fingers slowing considerably but not quite stopping until the last shudder wracked through your body. He pulled his fingers out, looking at them covered in your juices. “Look at that, Sugar. You got me all messy.”

Before you even had the chance to be embarrassed, Thomas took his fingers in his mouth, making sure to completely clean them of your essence. You thought he couldn’t get more attractive, but the blissed out look on his face as he tasted you proved you wrong. You let out a soft whisper of ‘fuck’ at the sight. Your body was weak from your orgasm, but that didn’t stop you from sitting up so you could kiss him properly. You pulled back from the kiss, holding his face in your hands. “Thomas… do you want to?”

“Yeah, if you’re okay with it,” Thomas said, bringing one of his hands to cover yours. You rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” you sassed. You let out a shriek as Thomas pinned you back down to the bed.

“You’re so annoying.” Thomas kissed you, grinding his still-covered erection into you for a second before he got back up to dig in his desk drawer. He emerged a few seconds later, condom in hand. “Perks of being a manager.”

“Aren’t those supposed to be if we need them, not your personal use?” you decided to tease him.

“Technically this is you needing them,” Thomas laughed as he pulled down his boxers. His length stood proudly, precum beading at the tip. He stroked himself, watching you squirm on his bed. You could feel your body growing hot at his intense gaze, slight embarrassment making you want to cover up, but heavy arousal beat that out. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from his hand on his dick, his thumb rubbing the head, smearing the precum. After what felt like ages of the agonizing tease, Thomas finally rolled the condom on.

Thomas climbed back over you, caging you in between his arms. He dipped his head, catching your lips in a kiss that was softer than any of the ones you’d shared before. When he broke the kiss, he only separated a breath away. “Are you ready?”

“Please, Thomas, I need to feel you.” Thomas slowly dragged one hand down your body, reaching between the two of you to line up with your entrance.

“Tell me if you need me to do anything,” he said before finally sliding into you. You whined at the stretch, just bordering on the right side of uncomfortable. Thomas kissed you as he stayed still, waiting for you to get used to his size. After a second, you rolled your hips, needing him to move. Thomas picked up on your movement, giving a testing thrust. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Please, Thomas, move.” Thomas nodded, keeping his pace slow, but still hitting every spot that had you crying out for him. You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your noises, but Thomas stopped you, instead threading his fingers with yours and holding your hand to the bed. He kissed at your neck, and you could tell he was leaving marks, but you really didn’t care. The feeling of him inside you was driving you wild, but you needed him to move faster. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“What is it, baby? You want me to move faster? But I like feeling you around me, gripping my dick so nice,” Thomas panted into your ear. Even though he was teasing, he still sped up his movements. You knew you were talking, but you didn’t really know what you were saying. The only thing you really registered was a stream of curse words and pleads for more, even though you really didn’t know what more you were asking for.

You could feel the heat pooling in you, so close but not quite there. You choked out a warning, your walls squeezing around him. His thrusts were getting faster and sloppier, just hinting that Thomas was nearing his end. “C’mon, baby, just a little longer. I’m almost there too,” Thomas panted into your ear, pressing his face into your neck.

You scratched your nails down his back, working your hips against his as you tried to reach your peak. Thomas nudged the side of your face, bringing his lips to yours. He brought a hand down between your bodies, feeling blindly for a second before finding your clit. You moaned into the kiss, unable to control it any longer. You broke the kiss, moans filling the room as Thomas worked you through it. Thomas followed soon after, unrestrained groans mingling with your own noises. He pumped into you a few more times before easing himself out of you, laying down next to you.

You laid there, letting the pleasant soreness settle in your body. You looked over at Thomas as he threw out the condom before sitting up and looking around for your romper. You saw it crumpled near the foot of his bed, and as you were pulling it on, you couldn’t help but make a little quip. “So that was fun.”

“Yeah, it really wa- why are you getting dressed?”

“Because I need to go back downstairs?”

“Stay with me,” he said, climbing back in bed beside you and wrapping his arms around you. “I”ll get you a shirt, you can go clean up in the bathroom, we can stay and cuddle…”

You had to admit, that all sounded very tempting. Then again, you had to think about the walk of shame you’d be doing. Either you could do it now when it wasn’t likely anyone was awake still, or you could do it in the morning before anyone else was up. Thomas pressed a kiss to your neck. “Alright, I guess I can stay.”

He gave you a bright smile before hopping up off the bed again. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and pulled them on before going to grab you a shirt. Once the shirt was on, you checked the hallway and bolted to the bathroom to clean up. By the time you got back to Thomas’s room, the music was off, and Thomas was in bed, scrolling on his phone. He looked over at you, the same bright smile on his face again.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling shy. You’d just slept with the guy, and you were wearing his shirt, but now you didn’t know what to say. 

“Hey.” He put his phone down on the desk before pulling his legs in so you could climb in next to him. Once you were in bed, you sat there, trying to figure out what to do. He wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you into him. You took a deep breath, letting yourself relax into his hold. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Stop worrying so much, go to sleep.”

You couldn’t help but listen to him.

**********

The first thing you registered was the fact that you were not in your bed. You knew the sheets felt different, your stuffed bear was not next to you, and there was definitely someone sleeping right beside you. It took a second for your half-asleep mind to piece together what had happened the night before, but once it did, you couldn’t help the word that slipped from your lips. “Fuck.”

“We already did that, Sugar,” Thomas mumbled from beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him. He nuzzled into your neck, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make you melt.

“Thomas,” you trailed off, not knowing what you were supposed to say. You lived with this guy, and would for at least 7 more months. Not only did you live with this guy, he was a manager for the house you lived in. That broke some of the most major rules you had for not only living with other people, but dating in general. Wait, were you even dating now?

“Shush, it’s still before noon. We have some more time.” You didn’t know what exactly he meant by that, but you let yourself relax into his hold. You should probably have this conversation with him when he wasn’t half asleep.

You stayed in bed with him for another hour before you finally went down to your own room. You waited for the hallway to go completely quiet and made your way down the stairs, only to see Peggy, Alex, and John sitting at the dinner table. “Look who finally made her appearance. So, how was Thomas?” John asked, a sly smile on his face.

“I just ended up passing out in his room after the party,” you tried lying, not meeting any of their eyes.

“So that’s why you’re wearing his shirt?” Peggy jumped in. Before you could even try to defend yourself with more lies, Alex spoke.

“The walls here are way too thin to try lying about things like that.”

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #hamilton imagine #reader insert #smut

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

Hey guys! I know it’s been a REALLY long time, but tonight I will be releasing part 1 of the dark fic! Look out for it at 5pm EST!

#dark fic #thomagelica #thomgelica x reader #thomas x reader #thomas jefferson x reader #angelica x reader #angelica schuyler x reader #im so excited!

[deja-you]

The RMS Titanic (and other ships that pass in the night)

t. jefferson x reader

part twelve | the lighthouse

summary: you know your relationship with Thomas will only be a fleeting memory, but you allow your lives to collide nonetheless.

word count: 1.3k

masterlist | series masterlist | previous 

At some point in the night, Thomas can no longer sleep.

His head is full with feeling and his heart is full of thoughts; he is a knotted mess. Thinking that getting up and moving around will solve his problems, he untangles his limbs from yours – not that it’s ever been an easy thing to do.

Thomas escapes to the balcony, where he has spent many hours pondering his father’s fate. This time he wonders what you think of it. Was this secret more than you had expected? Was it less? Had you somehow known all along? You couldn’t have, because that look of grief in your eyes is something altogether new.

He believes that you think some part of him died on the sailboat. Logically, this would be an apt conclusion; any child would be at a loss seeing their parent die. This isn’t the case for Thomas. He did not die with his father.

Thomas is pressing the glass of clear liquid to his lips when he hears the balcony doors creak open. You say his name softly, but he doesn’t respond. You move to cover his hands with your own, in the same way Thomas had covered his father’s casket with loose soil. This is finally too much for Thomas, he can’t stand the thought of you mourning him when he is still in your arms.

In a very Thomas-fashion, he expresses his thoughts in stolen lines of poetry. “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder and take the glass out of his hand.

“I’m not my father,” he tells you.

“I know,” you say softly. You raise the glass to your lips, surprised when the drink doesn’t burn like Gin. It’s water. “You’re really nothing like him.”

He nods and takes the glass from your hand to set it aside so that both your hands are free to wrap around his torso.

“Come back to bed,” you sigh into the fabric of his shirt. “I miss your warmth.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he places a kiss to your forehead. “Alright. Back to bed.”

The next morning, it’s Thomas who finds himself missing your warmth.

The spot beside him is empty and cold, like there had been no one there at all. He pulls himself out of bed and finds that he is only further injured by the lack of you in the hallway or the study or the kitchen or the balcony. Gone, without so much as a goodbye.

He should really have known better than this. How could you stay after everything he had admitted to you? He should count himself lucky to even have had you for the evening; that was a blessing in itself. Thomas’s eyes begin to sting, and he thinks who cares if I cry now? I’m alone anyway.

Then the door creaks open and you stumble into the room with a large paper bag in your arms. You chirp out a cheery “good morning” in Thomas’s direction and set the bag down on the counter. When you really look at Thomas, you notice the surprise written in his lips and the pools of water that had been gathering in his eyes. Realizing the assumption he must have made, you shake your head and chuckle softly.

“Do not stand at my grave and cry,” you grin. “I am not there. I did not die.”

Thomas smiles at the way you finish his poems for him, seemingly effortlessly. Only seemingly. He knows how much work you have done to be able to fit into the world that he had been born into. It doesn’t come naturally, and it makes Thomas adore you even more.

“You didn’t think I left, did you?” You ask, opening the bag and pulling out an assortment of pastries: croissants, éclairs, tarts, etc.

He takes a seat at the counter and shrugs. “We have a habit of leaving each other, don’t we?”

Your movements faulter. You want to tell him – you want to promise him – that this time will be different. This time there is nothing left to pull the two of you apart. This time you will stay with him forever. But you’re afraid that what ever omnipotent being exists likes to ruin people who deal in absolutes. You bite your words back and swallow them deep into your throat.

And it’s okay that neither of you say anything. The two of you are far past that nervous stage where a pause or lull in conversation seems damning. You are past the point where one of you is trying to impress the other, and the other is waiting to be impressed. There is no performance, simply existing together.

So you eat croissants in silence and in love.

After breakfast, you move out onto the balcony to read while Thomas sequesters himself in his office. You drink sips of orange juice in between chapters and the day wastes away. It’s hardly a waste of a day, but if this is wasting time, you despise being efficient with it. Hours later, you return inside and begin your search for Thomas.

You find him in one of the mansion’s parlors. There are so many empty rooms in this house – filled with furniture, yes, but not with people and life. Thomas is in one of the smaller rooms. You think it must be his favorite, this isn’t the first time you have been here with him, but maybe the last time was just a dream. Thomas smiles when he sees you in the doorway and beckons for you to join him.

He hands you a little handkerchief that he’s quietly been working on in his favorite chair. Your name is embroidered along the edge of the fabric in a scripty font. You meet Thomas’s eyes, and you can see his glowing with pride.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” You tease him.

Any manner of teasing goes out the window when he replies with, “I can’t make you stay, can I?”

This catches you off guard and you stare at him with wide eyes. “It’s not like… It’s not like I had plans to leave anytime soon.”

“Then don’t. Not any time soon, not at any time ever,” Thomas says.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I’m saying that…” His sentences are broken up as he sighs to himself frustrated by his failing attempts to find the right words. “I love you. I don’t want you to leave this time, not at all. Stay. I know this isn’t planned out beautifully and – and I don’t have a ring! God, I’m messing this all up, aren’t I?”

“Thomas,” you say weakly, but he continues on his monologue.

“Marry me. Please, please marry me. I’ve loved you since the day I saw you, and I never want to see you walk away from me again, I know this isn’t glamorous—”

He’s trying to get down on one knee to make this feel more like a traditional proposal, but you grab his hands and bring them to your waist. Your hands hold his face and your forehead is pressed against his.

“Yes. Yes, Thomas. Yes,” you say.

“Yes?” He asks. “This is what you want, too?”

You nod. “Yes. This is what I want.”

It’s taken you far too long to realize this. You’ve been wrong about Thomas. All this time, you believed that you and Thomas were two ships passing in the night, destined to pass each other in the darkness of the night. You’ve finally figured out that the glow of the light reflecting off the water isn’t another ship. No, it’s a lighthouse, and it’s beckoning you home.

He’s guiding you home. He loves you. Always has.

taglist:

@farihafangirls @drreamhugs @id-do-it-for-free-babe @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @lanaisjefferson @hamildork @veritasnvirtue @exrthangel

#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson imagine #thomasjefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #dark academia au #modern au #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs x reader #thomas jefferson fic #thomas jefferson fanfic #marquis de lafayette #lafayette x reader #x reader #reader insert #rms titanic #dark academia

[katie-writes24]

Standing Right In Front Of You

Pairings: Alexander Hamilton x reader, Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: a complete VENT, indecisive reader, kinda fluffy in the end, the reader is l o n g i n g, but overall sad and unfair :(, mean girl Eliza if you think about it

OKAY! So, I had a thought the other day, since I’m a total sucker for the Alex vs Thomas fics, because truly, I love them both. So, I thought: let me make a fic where you could really choose who you, as the reader, want to be shipped with? Or, even better, can be BOTH! I hope that makes sense, because despite not having a real ending, I left it open so you can choose which man you want to go for, even though both are shown to have feelings for the reader? Okay, anyway, next thing. Where am I to ever figure out a plot for this fic, you ask? Well...I totally based this off an episode of The Office. I have NO regrets! DM me if you know what episode this if from hehe! Okay, sorry I’m rambling, enjoy! I love feedback, and let me know if you wanna be tagged!

The party was in full swing; with the sun setting and various kinds of alcohol being passed around, everyone was warm and giddy. People were dancing in the middle of the room, others were sitting at tables laughing. The top lights had been dimmed and replaced with flashing lights of different colors near the stage.

It was definitely a kind of party that Y/N wasn't used to.

Once the ceremony was over, they had moved inside and she hadn't left her seat since. John had left to go dance and Anjelica only came to talk to her every once in a while. Currently, Y/N was sipping on her straw and watching the crowd in front of her.

She was lost in her own thoughts and when she heard the chair beside her scrape across the tile floor, she jumped in her seat.

"Some party, huh?" Alexander sat and looked across the room before lookign at Y/N.

"Yeah, it's uh...it's nice," She shrugged and sat up in her chair, suddenly becoming nervous from the man being so close to her.

"I bet you twenty bucks that John ends up bellyflopping on a table," Alexander smirked as he watched his friend do shots with Hercules and Lafayette.

Y/N scoffed, "I bet you double that the three musketeers try and steal the swan over there."

They both laughed as Lafayette looked suspiciously at the ice sculpture in the corner, whispering to John and pointing accusingly.

"You know what, I don't doubt that," Alexander folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back. "So, when are we going to see those dance moves? A little birdie told me that you can swing pretty good."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Whoever told you that was a liar, I've never danced in my life." Alexander obviously wasn't buying the lie as he looked up at the ceiling and groaned.

"That's not true, I know you can at least do a shimmy!" Alexander raised a brow teasingly as she gave a glare.

"That's what you want to see? A shimmy? How classy." Y/N tossed her hair over her shoulder and ducked her head, oblivious to the way Alexander was looking her up and down adoringly.

"So, I was thinking-" Alexander was cut short by the burst of excitement from Eliza, who wrapped her arms around his shoulders and giggled.

"I am loving this venue," Her eyes were lit up in excitement, Y/N always wish she had her attitude of constant positivity and bliss. "I'm so glad we got to come!"

Alexander looked up at her with a soft smile, caressing her arm with his hand. He looked peaceful, looked at Eliza with adoration. Something lovingly.

Something Y/N would never have with him.

"You know this could fit maybe another fifty people, Alex? It would be a perfect place to hold another wedding don't you think?" Eliza rambled on and on and Y/N had to sip on her drink in order to keep her mouth shut. She couldn't stand that they were talking about their hypothetical wedding in front of her, not that they could know that it bothered her that much. They couldn't understand that Y/N was pained every time they kissed, or every time they called each other cute pet names. They didn't understand that she aches for Alexander and his warm hands and witty smile.

They didn't understand that she craved something she could never have.

Before they could talk about their future even more (if she heard the names of their children, she might explode), Aaron came over and clapped Alexander on the shoulder. Eliza gave him a hug and a wide smile.

"Glad you could all make it," Aaron smiled and kissed the top of Y/N's head.

"Congratulations, Aaron! This really is a beautiful set up!" Eliza smiled at him as Y/N put her drink down.

"Yeah? I thought it would be too much, but this is what Theo wanted, and if it makes her happy, then I'm happy." It was so sappy that Y/N wanted to punch him in the face.

Screw everyone being in love and happy, I want that, too.

An upbeat song started playing and Eliza gasped, "I love this song! Alex, babe, come dance with me!" She took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. Alexander went easily, smiling at Eliza with such passion.

Y/N had to admit, she had never seen Alexander happier than now. Ever since the two started dating, he smiled more and was high spirited, he even took days off from work, could you imagine?

She must of had a somber look on her face because Aaron placed a hand on her shoulder and looked down at her with a sympathetic look in his eyes. "You okay?"

Y/N nodded, "I'm fine..."

Aaron pursed his lips, but nodded nonetheless. He knew about her feelings, at least that's what he thought it was. To Y/N, it was something that grew incredibly.

She used to only imagine what his lips would feel like, imagined what it would be like with his arm around her shoulder. Now, she imagined how he would look in the morning, when the sun would wrap around his skin. She imagined if he would whisper to her late at night, when the world was quiet. She imagined what he was like when he just came back from work, if he would be all grumpy, or if he'd want to take a shower, or if he'd just wrap his hands around her waist and give her a kiss on the neck and tell her about his day.

But she didn't tell anybody that, of course not. Because it didn't matter. He probably did all those things with Eliza anyway.

"Well, I'm gonna give Laurens some water before he knocks something expensive over," Aaron tapped the chair and went to walk away, but Y/N called his name.

"Congratulations, I'm really happy for you," She smiled and he returned it before walking away.

The song switched to something slow and Y/N kept her eyes on her cup, refusing to look up because she knew her eyes would land on Alexander holding Eliza close as they swayed slowly.

Yet, temptation fought her, and the moment she looked up she saw them. Alexander was resting his cheek against Eliza's, whispering something in her ear. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and their bodies were closer than imagined.

Moments passed and she was still watching them, a mix of envy and guilt resting in her chest. Suddenly, Alexander's gaze found hers and she quickly looked away, pretending like nothing happened.

Footsteps approached her and she saw Thomas walk over, waving softly. "There you are,"

"Hey, Thomas," She sighed, hoping that he didn't notice the way her mood changed, how she was totally different than earlier that afternoon, when they talked in the courtyard briefly, his smart charm making her laugh.

"Well, don't sound so excited to see me," He raised a brow and sat in the chair Alexander had previously been in.

"No, sorry...just- it wasn't at you," Y/N rubbed her temples and sighed again, looking up at him and giving a half smile. "Sorry."

"No worries," Thomas smirks and lays his arm on the back of her chair. "Nice ceremony, huh?"

"Yeah, it was beautiful," She never been to a beach wedding before, and while she didn't appreciate the sand in her shoes, she liked the fresh air. She wouldn't mind having a beach wedding one day, if she found someone who she could spend the rest of her life with, someone who appreciates her and listens and laughs with her and loves her.

Once again, her eyes fall on Alexander, and she pushes the thoughts away.

Thomas follows her eyes and clears his throat, "You want to dance?" He holds out his hand, and Y/N is hesitant before she takes it.

He has big hands, promising hands. They hold her own with such care, and as he lead them to the dance floor, his grip staying the same.

Thomas wrapped one arm around her waist and held her own hand with his other. Y/N held onto the back of his shoulder with her free hand, and for a while they just held each other close.

Y/N could feel his breath near her ear, his fingers finally intertwining with hers. It made her stomach flip, not used to such affection. She leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

It was peaceful.

While others around them danced in a soft sway, they moved slowly in a circle, more focused on each other's warmth than the actual dance. As Y/N buried her face into his neck, she could hear him swallow. She hoped he was feeling what she was feeling.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes or hours, she couldn't tell, too lost in the tempo of the song in the background mixed with the safe feeling she had. Suddenly, Thomas was pulling back, licking his lips and looking at her with soft eyes.

"Y/N, do you want to get out of here?" He asked nervously, she'd never heard him sound so shaky. Looking into those dark orbs, she knew that he held promise, of what, she didn't know yet. But, she'd like to find out.

"Yeah," Y/N whispered and he nodded firmly. He took their untwined hands and lead them back to her table, gathering her purse and saying goodbye to the others at the table. As they headed for the door, she looked back to the dance floor to find Alexander looking back at her.

It made her pause; he looked unsure, eyebrows raised and mouth parted slightly.

Y/N would like to think that one day, he would try. He would stop distracting himself with work and worrying about what's next. He would sit down and have an honest conversation about them and that he would let her see that vulnerability that he hides so well. She'd like to think that they would be the one dancing right now, or even the ones sneaking out.

It was too late.

She mentally shook herself as she blinked, looking away and walking out of the reception, the look of what seemed to be heartbreak on Alexander's face.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!!

@notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @companionjones @tinywhim @checkurwindow @21bruhs

#hamilton #alexander hamilton x reader #thomas jefferson x reader #alexander hamilton x oc #Hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #thomas Jefferson x oc #thomas jefferson imagine #my writings #I did a THING #i actually really like this one :) #but Alex is such a heartbreaker #Alexander when will you get your shit together

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 05.2 | thomas jefferson

title: freedom of the press 05.2, or the point of no return

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: literally 20k. remember when my estimate for both parts of 05 was 20k total?? hahahah

warnings: shitty weather, sexual tension finally comes to a head, mild embarrassment, death mentions, trashing on politicians, implied sex 👀

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 @superbarriobrothers @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 @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow  @siriusorionblackiii— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

IT WASN'T A day later when Y/N saw Thomas again, but that time, she was in no mood for his antics.

It was one of her first days back to work at the diner, and while she'd known it was busy during lunch and dinner, she had entirely forgotten how overwhelming the crowd was during weekend rush hours. So, unfortunately, that Sunday was a wakeup call.

She'd already been on her feet for five hours; it was just after 1 PM, and she'd elected to take the opening shift that morning (it meant she could leave earlier, and that was good enough for her). However, with the sea of customers that continued to leak into the restaurant, her exhaustion was growing and growing. Moreover, Jac had let it slip to her that the tenant who lived above the diner had just moved out, and she was stuck in her head trying to figure out a way to bring it up to Mira that didn't reek of desperation. Her focus was entirely elsewhere, by then.

"Hi, what can I get you?" She'd just rushed back from making two cappuccinos and still had to get back to the ovens to make sure her bread didn't burn, so with how preoccupied she was, she hardly noticed who was standing before her. He, however, realized immediately.

"Oh... Hey." Thomas's eyes were wide as he looked down at Y/N, but her reaction to him was nothing but expectant. He cleared his throat, trying to bury how stunned he was, and she turned her attention to the screen as he gave her his lunch order. She didn't look up as a grin began to grow on his lips. By then, she'd obviously taken note of his presence, but she was far too tired to care. "So you're a barista now?"

He quirked up an eyebrow as she frantically typed in his order. It seemed to be as complicated as possible, and she would be lying if she said she didn't suspect that it was intentional. She huffed. "We can't all live in penthouses on Capitol Hill," she bit back at him irritably, and his expression went from playful to surprised.

"Hey, now." His tone was lightly offended as he furrowed his brow. He swiped his credit card, eyeing her warily as her stare bore into the keypad before her. "Was just gonna comment on your many talents, but alright."

She sighed as she met his eyes with a tired gaze. "Name for the order?"

He furrowed his brow. "Seriously?" She stared at him expectantly, though the corners of her lips twitched up almost imperceptibly. He rolled his eyes. "It's Thomas."

"And how do you spell that?"

"Like you've never written it before?"

Y/N was growing progressively more amused, tongue-in-cheek as she looked up at him, but her smile was well-suppressed. She wasn't going to let up. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." She raised her eyebrows, silently challenging him to call her out. However, he'd apparently decided to play along instead.

"I'll let you guess that one, Ms... " He trailed off, squinting at her nametag, and she was having trouble swallowing the laugh that had begun to bubble up in her throat. She pursed her lips, trying not to find the whole ordeal endearing. "Y/N?" He looked up with an eyebrow raised, as though to confirm the pronunciation, and she gave him a sarcastic smile.

"Your order will be out shortly."

He grinned. Despite the irony in her expression, his was heavy with mirth. "Thanks so much, sweetheart; be sure to vote Jefferson in the primaries." He added a wink to his words as he put his wallet away. She rolled her eyes, biting back a scoff.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She finished sending in his order as he walked off with a grin before she retreated back into the kitchen, the other barista appearing to momentarily relieve her of her cashier duties. She was still in the thick of the lunch rush, and she couldn't lose track of her priorities -- especially since they were running quickly out of lemon bars, and it was rising unfortunately rapidly in importance for her to finish the yet-to-be-baked batch. Not that it contributed to her decision to move to the kitchens or anything, but she also couldn't stamp out the heat rising to her cheeks or her unyielding smile. (She couldn't explain them, either.)

"What's got you all smiley?" Jac raised an eyebrow as he packaged carry-out orders, and she quickly pressed her lips into a thin line. She slid the uncooked pan of lemon bars out of the refrigerator.

"Just glad to be back at the diner." She turned away from him with her dismissive excuse. The oven was always preheated for one reason or another, so she just slid in her pan, quickly withdrew her finished loaves of bread, and continued on, but Jac wasn't ready to let it go just yet.

"So it doesn't have anything to do with--?"

"I've gotta go back to mixing drinks, Jac; the line is a mile long," she cut him off abruptly, and he deadpanned. His pointed glance out the kitchen window toward the table where Thomas was sitting said all it needed to, and though she didn't miss it, she ignored it. "Let me know if you need me back here for anything. Can you take the lemon bars out when they're done?"

"Mm-hmm."

She ignored his suspicion as she rushed back out to brew another pot of coffee. She was still at work; she couldn't let herself ruminate on a two-minute interaction when there were customers who'd been waiting for at least half an hour, and so she let it slip to the back of her mind as she jumped from one task to the next, until finally--

"Order up for--" She heard a pause as she glanced toward the other end of the counter, seeing her coworker squinting at the receipt, before calling out, "Secretary Jefferson?"

When he went to collect his food, Y/N was perhaps overly pleased with herself, but she was also wholly unashamed of it, especially as she couldn’t help but notice his amused smile. He raised an eyebrow as he passed her, and she met his eyes brightly.

"Enjoy your food, Secretary Jefferson."

"That's a new way to spell 'Thomas,' huh?" he commented dryly, a brow raised, and she shrugged.

"Gave it my best guess."

"I'm sure you did."

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

UP UNTIL THEN, Y/N had spent the past week letting her writing take a bit of a back seat, her focus instead on her more recent financial crisis. However, it seemed Ashley wasn't going to let her off that easy. She'd reminded her on an abundance of occasions (more than twice a day over text and whenever they crossed paths in the office) that researching everything there was to know about Thomas Jefferson was still her job, that she'd still need to go to campaign events -- it as only a matter of time until the other shoe dropped. To her dismay, the 'other shoe' apparently meant she was required to make another day trip to Charlottesville, and it may have been one of her only work commitments, but she wasn't going to refrain from grumbling about it.

The only benefit of the situation was that her gracious host and temporary landlord also happened to be going, so she didn't have to go miserably navigate another black-tie political fundraiser alone.

When Lafayette pulled up in a Mercedes, she rolled her eyes. They were going to spend almost as much time in the car as they were at the venue, but it also appeared he wasn't going to let her slip under the radar as she'd hoped.

The mocking went both ways, though. Where he was excessively flashy, she was astoundingly fixated on her own comfort, rather than style. Lafayette laughed outright when she came to his car in a formal dress and a pair of slippers, pearls and pajama pants. (It was the middle of a blizzard, though, for fuck's sake. She didn't intend to freeze, and she certainly didn't intend to try and traipse through the mounting snow in four-inch heels and stockings.)

The ride south was painless if she didn't consider Lafayette's substandard taste in music or how poor visibility was. (She wasn't behind the wheel, so the latter wasn't her problem.) When they reached Monticello, though, she wasn't sure painless was how she could've described the rest of her night.

It was already dark when they arrived, the snowfall not having let up for a moment, and she whined about having to trade out her slippers for her heels, almost unwilling to sacrifice her pajama pants. However, entering the mansion had her almost immediately forgetting her strife.

Monticello was a grand estate. Staircases curved up either side of the entrance hall, coats being taken near one wall as everyone was funneled into the grand parlor -- not before passing the first of many elaborate chandeliers, though. The atmosphere was alight; the air held the warm, sweet scents of cinnamon and cherry wine -- at least, by Y/N's best, unrealistically-specific guess, but regardless of whether she was correct, she'd already begun to salivate.

"Shall we sit?" Lafayette offered her his arm, which she took, not for the sake of appearances, but because her feet were absolutely killing her, and she was desperate to take a load off. She looked up at him gratefully.

"Yes, please."

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

MUCH OF THEIR evening was uneventful. Lafayette socialized while Y/N networked; he drank four glasses of wine as she worked through her first; he pulled people to his sides to sing with him to the music of the cellist at the back of the room, and she took vigorous notes about the statuses of every campaign patron she interacted with. Needless to say, they had rather disparate experiences.

"Oh, Y/N!"

She stumbled backward as she was all but jumped on the edge of the parlor, being pulled into an enthusiastic embrace, and her eyes were wide when she recognized the smiling face of her assailant.

"Dolley! Hey!" She pulled away with a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The woman had become increasingly affectionate as Y/N had begun to see her more often, and if she'd been comfortable hugging her when they first met, then being tackled that evening did seem to logically follow. "How are you?"

She shrugged. "Been better, been worse. I'm at another campaign event, so that should tell you all you need to know." She checked her hip lightly against Y/N's with that, wearing a playful grin, and Y/N couldn't help but laugh.

"You and me both."

"I take it you're here on work, then?" Dolley took a sip of her wine, an eyebrow raised. (Y/N was rather impressed that the glass hadn't sloshed all down her dress, what with Dolley immediately ambushing her upon entering her line of vision.)

Y/N sighed. "I always seem to be. Not even allowed to get drunk at these events. How fair is that?" The complaint held little true bitterness, though, with the playful glint in her eyes.

Dolley looked indignant on her behalf. "You poor thing; they've really put you through the wringer, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it." Y/N's mock exhaustion provoked a laugh from Dolley, who pursed her lips, ultimately shrugging.

"You did gain me from it though." Her matter-of-fact tone made Y/N roll her eyes. "Count your blessings, Y/N."

"Really. I can be so ungrateful." She shook her head, upholding her exasperated facade, though when a grin split through Dolley's mask of disappointment, Y/N couldn't help the corners of her lips quirking up.

"What's tonight's article about, anyway? A critique of the baked brie? 'Thomas Jefferson Doesn't Know How to Throw a Party: An Exposé'?"

Y/N let out a huff of mirthless laughter. "If only. Instead, I'm supposed to be digging up some of Schrödinger's dirt on the campaign funders. My editor has no idea whether it exists or not, but here I am anyway." She paused with that, cocked her head to the side, pondering the question. "Now that you mention it, though, maybe my true calling was to be a food critic."

"Follow your dreams," Dolley agreed, nodding. "It'd probably be more exciting than this thriller of a crowd."

Y/N laughed at that. While the atmosphere was upbeat, she'd hardly seen any signs of life among its attendees, if she didn't count Lafayette's drunken instrumental karaoke. "What, the over-60 crowd of doctors and lawyers isn't doing it for you?"

Dolley grinned. "That's where you come in, dear."

"Suppose I should be glad to hear it," Y/N sighed as she eyed the room, forcing the false nonchalance into her voice. "Might have to change my exposé to how our prospective second lady is just using me for her own entertainment."

She hummed in agreement. "Mm, be sure to mention how cold and aloof I always am."

"You truly are cruel to me, aren't you?" Y/N met her eyes once again, her gaze wistful.

"Bet your readers will love to hear such a scandal."

"I can see it now," Y/N agreed, holding up her hands to paint the headline as she continued, "'My Toxic Relationship With Dolley Madison. Be Ready for the Articles of Impeachment.'"

As she laughed, a self-content smile adorned Y/N's lips. "What, are you planning to impeach me from the role of 'possible future second lady'?"

"Of course; I figured the implication was obvious," Y/N agreed, making the older woman roll her eyes.

"I wish you the best of luck with that, sincerely."

"I'll need it."

Dolley had been about to respond with a dry quip of her own, but Y/N's gaze was over her shoulder, not realizing she was cutting her off as a smile split through her face. "James!"

(Dolley wasn't too hurt as she learned who she'd been cut off in lieu of.)

The man in question was approaching the pair of them with two full glasses of wine, presumably one to replace what Dolley had just finished throwing back. (Why not? No one was counting.) "Y/N." He gave her a curt nod, amused smile playing at his lips.

"James." It was then Dolley who addressed him, reaching out to grab his extra glass from his hand without a second thought, expression longing, but James pulled it just out of her reach with his eyebrows raised.

"Haven't you had enough?" he asked his wife with a glint in his eye, who in turn huffed, folding her arms.

"Don't you dare," she complained. "I'm here for you; let's not forget."

"Of course not." He leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her head as he handed her the glass. Her small smile altogether betrayed her glare.

"Dunno why I put up with you." She pursed her lips into a pout, and he shrugged.

"Your prerogative, Doll."

She held his warm gaze for a moment longer before she seemed to remember herself, and she took a step back from him, turning to Y/N as her tender expression was immediately replaced with a grin. "Anyway, James, Y/N is here covering the demographics of your and Thomas's donors."

She gestured toward Y/N with the hand still bearing a full glass, and Y/N didn't comment when upwards of a tablespoon sloshed over the rim with the motion. James raised an eyebrow, wearing his forever-unshakeable look of composure. "That right?"

Y/N nodded with a light sigh. "Unfortunately."

"And what have you found, so far?" James's lips were pressed into a thin line at how exhausted she appeared, giving his best effort to hide his amusement.

"Oh, it's been real exciting stuff, hasn't it, dear?" Dolley wore a facade of sincerity as she addressed Y/N, her brow knit as though deep in thought, and Y/N matched her disposition.

"Absolutely scintillating, truly. I've only fallen asleep about fourteen times, which is a real feat for corporate America." She nodded to James earnestly as to corroborate, and he raised an amused eyebrow.

"Consider me impressed." Y/N gave a cheeky grin, and he continued, "Have you enjoyed what you've found thus far?"

She hummed skeptically. "Couldn't tell you. I was asleep the whole time."

That coaxed a laugh out of him, though. "I expect this will be a glowing article, then."

"The less I learn, the better?" She cocked an eyebrow as she glanced around the room, her gaze drifting from one wealthy businessman to the next.

"The less you conclude, the better," he corrected her with a knowing smile as he followed her gaze across the sea of patrons. "Don't assume anyone you speak to has the full story."

"Would you care to comment, then, James?" He turned to her with her eyebrows raised. "Because I really need some actual information, and I really don't want to go interview Jeff Bezos."

"'Jeff Bezos'?" he repeated quizzically, and she shrugged as she looked back to him.

"Seems like his type of crowd, no?" James chuckled, shaking his head as she continued, "What about Steve Forbes? I wouldn't mind getting a quote from him before the writers who actually work at Forbes can manage it."

"We aren't taking donations from CEOs or super PACs, actually."

"Really?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Is this on the record?"

"It can be." He looked mildly pleased with her reaction as she scrambled to create a new audio file on her phone. "We didn't want--"

"Shh! Gimme a minute. It hasn't started recording," she chastised him, and his smile grew at how exasperated she looked. "Alright, now speak."

"I'm a politician, Y/N, not a trained monkey." His indignation was wholly in jest, but she sighed dramatically, looking at him with a deadpan stare.

"Of course you aren't," she consoled him with an air of faux-sympathy, but he seemed to expect -- and rightly so -- that she wasn't done making fun. "You don't tell monkeys to speak; that's for show dogs. I'm not stupid."

He ignored the sigh that accompanied her words, raising an eyebrow. "So you're comparing me to a dog?"

Again, she plastered on a front of fatigue, which only compounded upon his amusement at her demeanor. "James, please, I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions here."

He rolled his eyes, but it seemed he'd exhausted his banter for the time being. "Please, ask away."

"So, back to CEOs and PACs. Why won't you take their donations?"

"We want to show that we're really here, in this, for the people." She cocked her head to the side, lifting the phone to be sure to catch his words, and he continued, "We want to demonstrate that we have no conflict of interest with the corporate sector. And if we don't receive enough donations for the campaign, then we don't have enough support to properly represent the people."

Y/N was silent a moment, brow furrowed, and she nodded ever-so-slightly as she pondered his words. Finally, she admitted, "I didn't think this was that kind of campaign, to be honest."

Her reaction seemed to gratify him; his eyes shone with pride. "You thought we lacked principles, you mean?"

She pursed her lips. "It's... possible that I may have made some assumptions."

"Well, I'm always happy to be the bearer of good news."

"Glad to receive it," she agreed quietly. The look in her eyes was absent, but her momentary trance broke almost before they'd noticed it, and she donned a wide smile. "Maybe you'll actually have some common ground with my readers this week, hm? Truly bridging the partisan divide. What a feat." While her enthusiasm was contrived, her words were sincere, and Dolley grinned.

"We knew you'd come around to our side."

"Woah, woah, woah." She held up her hands in playful defense. "I'm not the one changing sides. This was our political territory first."

"You really think Adams is rejecting corporate funding?" James looked at her expectantly, and she deadpanned.

"John Adams is not representative of his entire party, I can promise you that much."

"But he's the candidate."

"Not yet, he isn't," she resisted, and James raised an eyebrow. "It isn't fair to hold him to the standard of the party nominee when we've hardly started the primaries."

He tilted his head to one side as he regarded her, lips pursed. "Maybe not, but Thomas has been consistent with his values since the very beginning of our campaign."

"Who said Thomas was the standard?"

"What are we callin' me the standard of, now?" The southern drawl caught Y/N off-guard, and she flinched, her eyes widening. She turned reluctantly to see James's ever-so-principled candidate in the flesh, an eyebrow raised and wearing an amused grin as he came up on her left behind Dolley.

"Thomas!" To her relief, Dolley's overwhelming affection bought her a moment to gather her bearings as she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, how are you? I haven't seen you all night!"

Y/N couldn't explain why her throat was suddenly dry as Thomas slowly removed Dolley from where she'd latched onto his shoulders, nor why her stomach turned at the sight of him. He was beaming almost as brightly as Dolley as he held her by the forearms, but Y/N missed what they were saying. Her heart had begun pounding in her ears, and she wiped her sweating palms on her dress as discreetly as she could, tucking her phone back into her purse in an attempt to busy herself with anything other than his presence as he went on to embrace James. She prayed she'd find an opportunity to remove herself from the conversation unnoticed.

Her opportunity never came. She emerged from her bag to see Thomas looking over at her with an eyebrow raised, apparently entertained by how abruptly flustered she'd become. "Y/N."

She pulled the straps of her purse back up to her shoulder with a weak smile.  "Thomas. Hey."

She couldn't fully explain her sudden anxiety, didn't know quite why her heart was racing. Maybe it was just that he'd surprised her, or that he'd walked into a conversation that he was the focus of -- or maybe, though she discarded the thought deep into her subconscious, she was simply blindsided by being confronted with his presence in public, still struggling to figure out where it was the two of them stood.

Though she shifted uncomfortably, folding her arms, he didn't look away for another moment. The silence grew deafening, but she didn't have it in her to break his gaze, and she swallowed roughly. When he finally turned his attention from her, he chuckled almost imperceptibly; his smile had broadened.

"So what'd I miss?" He looked brightly over to James, making no effort to conceal how pleased he was. "You all talkin' about how great I am?"

"You're not far off, actually," James informed him, wearing a knowing smile. Thomas's eyebrows shot up. "We were discussing our campaign funding policy."

"And we're not already bein' smacked in the press for it?" He looked at Y/N with mocking disbelief, and she just rolled her eyes. She elected to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.

"Quite the contrary," James said with a nod. "Y/N was impressed."

James looked contented, but Y/N could almost see Thomas's ego tangibly swelling, and he turned to her with wide eyes, surprise flashing in his gaze. "Is that so?" He sounded as smug as he looked, and Y/N fixed him with a flat stare.

"Are you really looking for acclaim just because you aren't corrupt?" she asked dryly. When he didn't respond, it became increasingly obvious that praise was exactly what he wanted, and she rolled her eyes. "Congrats, Thomas. You must be so proud."

"Trust me, sweetheart, I am." His smirk had taken root, by then; there wasn't anything she could've said or done to knock him down a peg. "Thought it'd be a cold day in hell before you'd support anything my campaign was doin'."

"Then maybe there are a few things you should re-evaluate," she replied, voice stiff, and he laughed.

"Or maybe," he began, raising a cocky eyebrow. "You should re-evaluate your party loyalty. Y'know, the primaries aren't gonna end for another couple months. You aren't runnin' outta time just yet."

"It's gonna take a lot more than that to convince me to register as a Republican, Thomas."

"You'll come around." His words came alongside a wink, which evoked a scowl from her.

"We'll see about that."

"Mm, sounds like a challenge, Y/N," he teased, a singsong lilt in his tone. His eyes narrowed as he took a sip of his drink, and the preying glint in his gaze sent a shudder down the back of her neck. "But I think you'll find I can be very convincing."

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

“HEY, HOW MUCH longer do you want to stay?"

She'd finally managed to track down Lafayette near the refreshments table at the back of the room, and by then, he was well past tipsy.

"We cannot leave yet! Where 'ave you been all zis time? You 'ave been missing all ze fun!" He threw an enthusiastic arm around her neck, throwing her off balance a moment, and as his wide grin didn't waver, she sighed.

"Laf, I have to work in the morning."

"Ah, loosen up, first," he pleaded, tugging her alongside him toward the crowd near the music. (She wasn't sure how he'd managed to get a crowd of politicians and businesspeople turnt to Brahms, but she was undeniably impressed.) "You will regret not enjoying yourself, chérie!"

"I think it's a little too late for that," she muttered bitterly, though he was too absorbed with the energy of the room to notice.

"What was zat?"

"Nothing," she told him, louder that time. "I'm gonna go find a bathroom, real quick."

"Non! You are just trying to get away from me!" He was more insistent that time as he pulled her to the cellist, and she huffed.

"C'mon, I'll be back in a minute, okay?" She hesitantly removed his hand from his shoulder, and he gave her a disappointed glance. "I've just had a little too much to drink; gimme a break."

As feeble as her excuse was, seeing as she'd hardly had a drop of anything all night with her effort to stay painfully sober (and their drink options didn't go far past wine), Lafayette released her with a pitying wince. "Ah, no worries. I understand." He hesitated a moment, before adding, "Do you need me to 'old your hair back?"

She couldn't help her laugh at his genuine concern. "I think I'll be alright. Thank you, though."

"Be safe, chérie!" His voice was all but slurred as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the top of her head before wandering off, and she pursed her lips, amused as she watched him go. She would've tried to keep an eye on his blood alcohol content, but he was already drunk to the point of no return, and he seemed too enraptured by what he'd made of the evening to break away for long enough to refill his glass again.

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she turned to leave. The first left she took just led her into the dining room, so she turned back toward the entrance hall, trying to find any nook or cranny that split off into a part of the estate where she could have some quiet. She wasn't sure what she was trying to find, necessarily, but she wasn't about to get wasted with Lafayette. One of them had to be able to drive home.

A right, a left, and another right later, she'd gained next to no information on where exactly she was heading, other than that of the sitting room she'd just passed. Her watch told her it was just past 11 PM, and she sighed. She wasn't sure when she'd be able to drag Lafayette back out the front doors, at that rate.

The hall she continued down didn't lead her into a bathroom, to her dismay, but what she saw had her footsteps gradually stalling as her gaze raked down the walls around her. She'd stumbled upon a rather grand library, and one look to her right told her that it would only continue on the further they walked.

She glanced back over her shoulder, and seeing only the empty room she'd just left with its empty armchairs, gave in to her curiosity, wandering toward the side of the room with wonder in her eyes.

The bookshelves reached the ceilings, and every book was bound in aging leather, many torn or cracked at their spines. It had to be some sort of a collection, with the sheer number of novels -- and biographies, and anthologies of poetry, of short stories, even memoirs and atlases, as she realized just moments later. She ran her fingers over the gilded edges as she continued on into the next room.

The hall ended in a small sitting room, one that didn't have nearly the same pomp and circumstance as the rest of the estate, but it was cozy, with its red sofa and armchairs, its wood-burning fireplace and little lamps. The room was illuminated softly with the only light filtering in being from the adjacent rooms and the moon, and the small fireplace cast a warm glow before it.

She bit her lip, wore a small smile as she drew closer to the window at the back of the room. Her gaze was fixated on the bookshelf beside it, and -- as every book, every spine and title came into clear focus -- despite her hesitance, she pushed herself up onto her toes, reaching for a volume more than a foot above her head. Before she could pull it down, though--

"Should've known you'd find the library at some point."

"Thomas!" she squeaked in surprise, recoiling from the bookshelf -- she'd recognized his voice immediately, her eyes wide. She whirled around to see him leaning against the doorway and unconsciously took a step back, feeling much like a child who'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

He didn't look angry, though. In fact, his expression was far from it. His gaze was soft, his arms folded and ankles crossed, and though he looked amused, his smile held none of its frequent mockery despite her clear panic.

He raised an eyebrow, and she blinked hard, immediately began to try to excuse her presence there. "Shit, I... I didn't mean to end up here, honestly, I was just looking for the bathroom, and I--"

"Relax, sweetheart, you're not under fire." He chuckled lightly as he pushed himself off the doorway, walked toward her into the room. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needed some air, huh?"

His gaze flickered down just a moment as she bit her lip. "Really, I was just trying to find the bathroom," her words were quiet, hesitant, and he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" She nodded. "Go ahead. It's down the end of the hall and to your right." He tilted his head toward the rooms behind him, and her brows shot up. She hadn't expected to be put on the spot about the excuse -- she'd initially produced it just for Lafayette's sake and wouldn't have thought it needed to be any more thorough than it was.

She was reluctant to take a step forward, and she glanced back over her shoulder at the bookshelf, desperate not to leave after she'd just struck gold, as it were.

"I..."

"You...?" He waited for her to continue, his skepticism never subsiding, and when she didn't, staying rooted to her spot, a smug smile began to play at his lips. "That's what I thought.

She hated how easily he'd called her bluff, and she refused to meet his gaze as it grew increasingly self-satisfied. She scowled. "And what are you doing back here?"

"Didn't I just tell you I was lookin' for some peace and quiet?" He raised an eyebrow. "Or did you think someone just left that fire to try and burn this whole place down? Hm?"

She could feel herself flush as she crossed her arms; she hadn't thought that far into the fireplace that was active long past when it should've been, admittedly. "So you're just trying to run off while you have a parlor full of people giving you copious amounts of money right around the corner?"

"Somethin' like that."

She furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"Do you have any idea how exhaustin' this gets?" He looked down at her, wearing a timid smile. "I've been gettin' grilled all night; you'd be tired too."

Y/N raised her eyebrows, putting on a playful expression of shock. "You're telling me you actually get tired of talking about yourself?"

He cracked a grin. "Nah, just talkin' about the rest of the country. Y'know, the voters, the ones I'm supposed to be representin' or somethin'."

"Be careful, or this is gonna end up in this week's editorial," she warned him, though she couldn't inhibit her smile, and he cocked a brow.

"Oh, yeah? You gonna expose me?" The skepticism was heavy in his words alongside his confident smile, and she shrugged.

"Don't tempt me."

He chuckled, taking a few more steps toward her, the gap between them slowly closing. She swallowed. "Anyway, what's got you tryin' to escape? Lafayette gettin' a little too handsy?"

His teasing quickly had been restored, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the latter half of the question. "Turns out talking to old philanthropists is just as exhausting when you're the one asking the questions."

"No!" He gasped mockingly, placing a hand on his heart. "You mean workin' till midnight isn't doin' it for you anymore?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong; this is exactly my idea of a good time," she said defensively, though, with the sarcasm in her voice, she couldn't hide her own growing smile. "Usually more of a weekend activity, though. Can't handle this much excitement on a Wednesday."

"And ransackin' my library sounded like a good way to relax?"

"Glad you follow.".

"Find anything you like?" She raised her eyebrows as he further encroached on her space, feeling her breath catch. He stopped beside her, scanning the bookshelf along the back wall, but she was struggling to focus on his words as his shoulder brushed against hers, and she tensed, shied away from the contact. Before she caught herself, her absent stare rested at his lips in the closing proximity; her heart rose to her throat. He raised an eyebrow when she didn't answer, and upon seeing how she was looking at him, he gave a smug grin. "Not includin' me, I mean."

Her eyes widened; she prayed she didn't look nearly as red as she felt as vindication flashed in his eyes. He only continued to watch her expectantly, until finally, she turned alongside him to the books she'd been eyeing. Her gaze didn't take long to find where it'd been fixed before he interrupted her musings.

"I..." She went to reach for the book she was eyeing, but she trailed off as she stopped herself short, glancing nervously back to Thomas. "Can I?"

"Go ahead, sweetheart." He grinned as she stretched up toward the shelf that housed it. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh when she couldn't reach it, pushing herself further up with a hand on a lower shelf, almost jumping for it; all the while, Thomas's smile grew. "Need a hand?"

"Please." Her expression was defeated as she looked to him, and he pulled the book down with ease. She could only focus on his hand resting at the small of her back as he reached above her, his fingertips seeming to burn as they grazed the thin material of her dress, though he was just being careful not to inadvertently tumble into her. He didn't notice how she shivered under the fragile touch, and he raised an eyebrow as he looked the volume over.

"Lord Byron? Really?" He looked down at her curiously, ever-present teasing in his eyes. "Didn't take you for such a romantic."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Thomas," she replied, looking up at him with her gaze soft, before she cracked a grin. "Besides, what better way to relax is there than reading poetry about the ravages of war at midnight on a Wednesday?"

He laughed. "That's an awful specific type of self-care."

"Can't help that the over-fifty crowd you've assembled has me so riled up."

"I'd think the 19th century would be even wilder."

"So it'll help get my energy out," she quipped. Her gaze was tentative as it flickered back to the book he still held, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Then don't let me get in your way." He held the book out to her, smiling at her hesitance, and she accepted it readily, looking pleased as its title, embossed in gold foil, flashed in the moonlight.

"Always a philanthropist, huh?" Her reply was soft, absentminded, though; she wasn't looking for a response. By then, she was already caught up in the grandeur of the aging anthology of poetry. She settled into one side of the sofa as she hesitantly cracked the spine, terrified by the prospect of damaging it.

She didn't notice Thomas watching her with endearment, didn't even realize when took a seat on the couch beside her until the side of her thigh brushed against his. And when she did notice, she didn't react, though her skin jumped under the thin material of her dress. "This is gorgeous," she said, leafing gently through the book's weathered pages, running her fingertips along little stray marks and notes penciled in. After a moment, she looked up at Thomas. "Where'd you get it?"

"Think it was my great-grandfather's. It's been in the family for a while."

Her eyes widened. "How old is it?"

"This edition's from around 1900," he said, shrugging. "Bought it secondhand years later, though."

"It's more than a hundred years old?"

He chuckled at how dazzled she was, her eyes gleaming and her mouth hanging ajar. "And this is probably its first time bein' opened in fifteen years."

Her eyebrows shot up; she was appalled that anyone would have such an ornate, century-old copy of the book and leave it to collect dust on a shelf. "Why have it if you're never going to read it?"

"My family's been collectin' books for as long as we've been around, sweetheart."

"Writing isn't meant to be collected." She let out a sigh as she looked back to the collection of poetry that lay open in her lap, fiddling absentmindedly with the ribbon attached at the spine. He raised an eyebrow at her statement. "It's supposed to be experienced; it should make you feel something. It's a waste to just lock something like this away."

"Feels like that hit close to home." Though his voice was teasing, it was quiet, inquiring. She laughed, but the sound was hushed.

"I am a writer, Thomas." She looked back up at him with a demure smile to find that his gaze hadn't left her as they'd sat. "Or have you forgotten altogether that's why I'm here?"

He furrowed his brow, frowned, though his voice was playful. "So you mean you aren't here just to see me, sweetheart?"

She laughed again, unabashedly that time, as the mock disappointment faded from Thomas's face. His grin matched her own. "Please, I haven't even talked to Mark Zuckerberg yet. I thought it was fairly clear that I didn't come for the company."

"Not even for Dolley? Lafayette?" She shrugged innocently, and he teasingly bumped his shoulder against hers. "That's tough."

"I trust you won't rat me out."

He winked mischievously. "Don't count on it."

"Hey!" Her offense was far from sincere, with the joking lilt to his voice and the laugh close to the surface of hers, but she couldn't help her huff at how immediate his answer was. She pursed her lips, plastered on a pout. "If my secrets aren't safe with you, then brace yourself. You'd better get ready for an exposé about how Thomas Jefferson absolutely despises every one of his donors."

He chuckled. "Do I, now?"

"You are back here instead of out there with them."

"Mm, and you're obviously not exaggeratin' at all."

"I don't need to." She shrugged. "Since apparently these books don't even get read, you don't have much of an alibi for 'needin' some air.'" She leaned into the last three words in a painfully contrived southern accent, air quotes and all, and he grinned at her mocking impression of his voice.

"You think I sound like that?"

"Precisely." She nodded, her tone matter-of-fact, and he rolled his eyes despite the laugh he fought back.

"Anyway, some of these are bein' taken out every once in awhile, but since it's not my library, I've gotta take advantage of them while I can."

"'Not your library'?" she repeated quizzically, and he shrugged.

"I mean, it's the family library, but I don't come down here much." She couldn't help but notice how fond his voice was as he glanced around the room. He grinned when he turned to find her watching him. "I am still livin' on Capitol Hill, in case you forgot."

She pursed her lips, trying to conceal how her smile was growing. "And you'd sacrifice your night of schmoozing patrons and getting donations just to be back here?"

"I've schmoozed enough donors for one night. Besides--" Y/N shifted in her seat, slowly closing the book in her lap as she turned further toward him. "--James was always better at understandin' people."

"So we're just gonna pretend that slacking on the job isn't the reason you're back here?"

"Shh, c'mon. I'm makin' informed decisions as a professional." By then, he'd shifted the same way as she; they were facing one another on the couch, despite being shoulder-to-shoulder. He grinned in self-satisfaction. "I'm takin' on the responsibility of bein' the only person who reads these books."

"How truly self-sacrificing."

"I'm a man of the people, sweetheart." She chuckled lightly, leaning into the cushion on the back of the couch, and for a moment, they were both silent; she bit her lip at the heavy pause. His gaze flickered down to her lap, to the collection of poetry she'd shut but still continued to run her fingers over, tugging at the top of the spine, fiddling with the stacked corners of pages. He cocked his head to the side, and though he looked uncertain for a moment, his voice was decided. "Take it."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"The book." He nodded toward where it sat, all but ignoring her surprised stare. "Borrow it. Don't worry too much about returnin' it, just get it back to me whenever you're done with it."

Another beat passed as she sat stunned, certain she couldn't have heard him right. When he raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to answer, she exhaled softly, glancing down at the book. "Thomas, I couldn't possibly."

"Why not? It's a library; we're supposed to be loanin' 'em out, aren't we?"

His nonchalance about it had her entirely dumbstruck, and she bit her lip. "And what if something happens? What if it gets ruined?"

"I'm the only one who's gonna notice; I promise." He grinned. "No one's readin' it here, anyway."

She took a shaky breath, looking him in the eye. "Are you sure?"

His smile had softened at the awe in her expression. "Positive, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Thomas." She covered his hand that still lay on the couch with hers, squeezing it lightly.

"It's nothin'."

"Maybe not to you." She knocked her knee gently against his, and it was her expression that was playful this time, though her words were nothing but genuine. "But it means a lot to me. Really."

His eyes sparkled with affection as he threaded his fingers into hers. "I'm glad."

She bit her lip, holding his warm gaze. The room seemed to slow as she felt herself hesitantly shifting toward him. With her movement, when he saw how she drew deliberately closer, Thomas unthinkingly reached up with the hand that wasn't enclosed in hers to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face. The feeling of his calloused fingers as they grazed the side of her head sent a shiver down her spine, and when his hand didn't fall, ghosting his thumb across the expanse of her cheek, she leaned into the touch.

"Thomas." Her grip on his hand tightened in the slightest, her stare fell unabashedly to his lips. Though hesitantly, she pulled closer to him.

However, he hadn't moved. Reluctance lay thick in his gaze as he searched her expression. As she looked expectantly up at him, waiting for him to close the space between them, he just swallowed.

Finally, he spoke. "What are you lookin' for, from me?"

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"You're harder to read than you realize, sweetheart." She blinked. Was the implication not obvious? Wasn't she laying out in the plainest terms possible what she was looking for? Did he need really her to ask for it? He pursed his lips. "Whenever I think I've figured you out, somethin' changes."

"What do you mean?" she breathed. She pulled back to where she'd initially been sitting, almost hurt but certainly embarrassed as she withdrew, and his hand fell from her face. He didn't release her hand that still lay in his.

He sighed, shaking his head. "I mean the mixed signals. Wantin' me when we're alone and avoidin' me like the plague in public. Askin' me to kiss you in Detroit and then runnin' out on me. I can't just keep guessin'."

She stayed silent, unsure of what she could possibly say -- it wasn't often that she was left speechless, but this time, he was right. She'd always been of two minds with him. Rationally, she couldn't have him, not when they were from such different worlds, had such conflicting careers, but when she was alone with him, she couldn't help herself. However, she couldn't have expected him to so plainly call her on it.

"I wanted to talk to you about it at Lafayette's, but I've never been able to figure where you stood. And now this..." He trailed off, raking a hand through his hair, breaking her gaze. He huffed. "I just don't know what to make of you."

It was guilt that sunk in her chest at his words, but indeterminate regret weighed heavily on her conscience. "Thomas, I..." She couldn't go on with the response. There was nothing for her to say, not when her head was still in pieces, not when her career needed one thing but her libido demanded another.

He held her gaze another moment, shaking his head when it revealed absolutely nothing, when it couldn't tell him what he needed to hear. He took a deep breath as he stood up. Her hand that'd been holding his fell to the soft corduroy of the cushion. "Just... forget it. I shouldn't have brought it up." He started toward the hallway, and her eyes widened.

"Thomas, wait." After the initial shock of the point-blank confrontation began to subside, she scrambled to catch him as he began to leave, tucked the book under her arm and rushed out toward the hallway. When he heard her giving chase, he reluctantly turned to her with raised eyebrows.

"Y/N?" His tone was expectant, almost hopeful, but it was still disappointment that flickered in his eyes. She paused; she didn't know what to say, but she didn't want to let him leave like this, not when uncertainty hung so heavily in their atmosphere. He sighed. "Sugar, until you figure out what you want, I can't help you."

She didn't look away just yet, though. She wanted to have an answer, something, anything to tell him -- she was desperate to find some way to create some normalcy between them, to make things as easy as they always seemed to be. She had nothing to offer, though, other than, "I'm sorry."

He gave her a faded smile. "No need."

Y/N couldn't help her small frown at how gentle his voice still was, as though he was worried about hurting her, of all things. She glanced down at the leather-bound book she still held, and she pulled it out from beneath her arm.

"I suppose I should give this back, then." Her voice was soft as she looked up at him, and he shook his head lightly.

"Keep it." His gaze was kind as he pushed back on the book where she'd offered it up. "It's alright. Leave it with Lafayette when you're done."

He looked down at her expectantly, and she took a deep breath, hesitant. "Or I could return it next time I see you?"

Despite its tone of melancholy, his smile grew at how hopeful she sounded. She couldn't bear to let this feel so final. "Whenever works, sweetheart."

She swallowed, nodded, but her shoulders slumped. A moment passed in silence as she stared up at him, and though he looked inexplicably composed, even casual as he waited for her response, she couldn't help but feel defeated. "Alright, Thomas."

He nodded; she could hear him swallow in the complete silence as his laid-back facade faded, the noise undisturbed save for the soft crackling of the fireplace. He released his hold on the book."I'll... see you around, Y/N." He gave her one last, drained glance, before he turned, leaving her alone.

She didn't respond.

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

THOSE FINAL FEW minutes played on a loop in her head throughout the entirety of the next day, and the article she was writing didn't help -- every time she typed up any pieces of information about his funders, her mind regressed to his dark, quiet library, their soft banter as she learned he was sneaking off right in the middle of his own party. And with that, inevitably, came her picture-perfect memory of the heaviness of his gaze, the hurt that still lay dull in its depths. She didn't have any way to alleviate the guilt that rose from her stomach like bile.

She could only ruminate on that night for so long, though. That past Monday, when she'd asked, Mira had offered her residence in the flat above her diner. As a tenant, she'd still cover rent and utilities, but Mira had readily cut her a deal in the share of the bills she was paying -- one that made the small apartment more than affordable for her, and in exchange, her only new commitment was to closing up the diner in the evenings.

She'd spent the first half of the week moving in, and by Thursday, the space was finally livable. Angelica insisted on inviting herself and the Hamiltons over for a housewarming party that evening.

"This place is great, Y/N." Eliza smiled as Y/N emerged from her kitchen holding four glasses and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. (They'd all abstained from drinking in solidarity with Eliza.) Y/N didn't comment on how none of the furniture was different even in the slightest from when she'd lived with Angelica, that there wasn't anything new for her to have even been appreciating; she was too satisfied in having found a place at all.

"Glad you think so." She grinned as she passed around the drinks, ultimately taking a seat in the armchair beside the couch. "Moving was a bit of a pain, but I'm glad to be at my own place, now."

"Lafayette wasn't a good enough host?" Angelica interjected, a playful eyebrow raised. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"He was great, but staying with him was..." Images of Thomas walking in on her right out of the shower flashed in her mind. "Complicated."

"What do you mean, 'complicated'?" Alex asked with a wide smile, doing his best to derive some hidden meaning from her words. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"I mean I was freeloading in his expensive penthouse, Alex," she huffed, and he pursed his lips.

"It isn't freeloading if he's getting something out of it."

"And what exactly do you think he was getting out of it?" She narrowed her eyes, and he held up his hands in his own defense, shrugged innocently.

"I'm just saying!"

"Oh, don't you dare act like--"

"Enough, you two," Eliza cut them off with a tired stare. "We're here to celebrate Y/N finding her own place, not for you to bicker like children."

Though she was addressing both of them, her words were directed explicitly at Alex, her gaze burning into his. He gave a guilty simper.

"Of course not, love." He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, and she gave him an affectionate smile despite how she was shaking her head at his antics.

"How are you feeling about living alone, then, Y/N?" Eliza changed the subject readily, more than happy to alleviate any of the tension Alex had been building in the room.

"Not that this could ever meet the standard of living with me, she means," Angelica added, and Y/N grinned, gave a timid shrug.

"Well obviously the loss of Angelica is utterly heartbreaking," she lamented with a sigh, "But I guess besides that absolutely irreplaceable loss, it's pretty good, all things considered. It's a bit of a trade-off with the late evenings I'd otherwise spend at my office, but c'est la vie."

She gave a rather stiff smile, and Angelica reached over to squeeze her knee with an empathetic frown. "I'm sorry, honey. I know it's not easy for you to put something else before your career."

"Nah, it's alright, I'm just getting a well-needed break from the excitement, not screeching to a full halt. Besides, my article from today's been getting me more than enough love." Y/N paused, her fingertips tapping on her wineglass as her gaze fell to the floor; she'd done a marvelous job pushing them down, but once again, the reminder of the article had brought the previous night's events dangerously close to the surface of her mind. She pursed her lips absentmindedly. She couldn't seem to think straight when it came to her predicament. "Actually... Can I get a bit of advice?"

Her friends all shared an inquisitive glance, before Angelica spoke. "Always. What's up?"

She let out a soft sigh, finally looking up at them. "So... it's about someone who I met through work." Alex's eyebrows shot up. "It's really silly and menial but... I just wanted someone else's take on my situation."

"Everything alright?" Eliza's voice was soft but heavy with concern. Y/N cracked a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, it's severely inconsequential." She took a deep breath as she tried to find the words for her situation that wouldn't immediately incriminate her. "There's just this person, and they're unfortunately incredibly hot, like undeniably attractive, and I'm having a really hard time not shamelessly throwing myself at them."

When she paused, Angelica furrowed her brow. To that point, her state of limbo didn't sound like much of an issue. She went on. "I also know they're into me, so it's not that I'm shooting for someone unattainable, but trying to screw them would make my life... complicated."

"Is it because you met them through your job?" Traces of suspicion leaked into Alex's tone, but Y/N was too focused on her deep-seated angst to notice. She nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly, actually." He furrowed his brow. "Like, in another context, I'd totally hit that, but given the circumstances, it's a little riskier."

"Is it one of your co-workers?" Eliza asked, glancing at Angelica, who shrugged.

"If it was, I'd hope I'd know about it." Angelica took a sip of her drink, wearing a small frown, and Y/N shook her head.

"I'm not hooking up with a coworker, don't worry. It's nothing illicit."

"So who is it?" While Alex simply sounded curious, Y/N knew him well enough to detect the suspicion buried in the question.

"I'd really rather not say."

"It'd be easier to help you if we understood the situation a little bit better."

Y/N looked to him with a sigh. "Alex."

"C'mon, why can't you tell us?" He pressed, pursing his lips. "There's no way it's that embarrassing, Y/N. What, do we know them, or something?"

When she didn't answer, just biting her lip, his eyes widened. "Do we know them?"

She scowled. "It's not important! Can you just... help me? Who it is doesn't matter."

While Alex looked more than ready to continue to interrogate her, Eliza cut him off. "So how well do you really know them? How involved are they in your life?"

Y/N looked to her with a relieved smile, grateful that someone was taking her pseudo-sob story seriously. "I haven't known him that long. We met pretty soon after I started with my current assignment at the Post." (About an hour after, specifically, but who was counting?)

"So it's a 'him'!" Alex interjected unhelpfully.

"Yes, it's a 'him,' now stay focused." Y/N gave him a tired stare.

"And how long have you been, y'know," -- Angelica shrugged -- "trying to jump his bones."

Y/N laughed lightly at that. "I am not trying to jump his bones, Ang. I'm trying to figure out whether I should jump his bones."

"Fine, whatever." Angelica waved away the technicality impatiently. "How long have you been into him for?"

Y/N pursed her lips. "I mean, there's been some level of... tension," --she cringed at her own word choice-- "since day one, but I guess it's just been the past couple weeks that it became an issue."

"The past couple weeks... ?" Alex was more thinking out loud than actually inquiring, and Y/N rolled her eyes. She could see him trying to do the calculations in his head, as though he knew everywhere she'd been at all recently.

"What d'you mean, 'became an issue'?" Angelica's eyes were shining with the question, her eyebrows raised, and Y/N laughed.

"I came into this conversation asking about whether I should sleep with someone, and you're really trying to act like I'm being all coy about it?"

"Alright, fair enough, I'll give you that," Angelica conceded, grinning. "Have you actually had a chance to sleep with him yet, though?"

She tilted her head to the side, reflecting for a moment, and the list didn't take long to build -- his office, the hotel in Detroit, Lafayette's apartment, the back room of his estate, to name a few -- and she sighed.

"Once or twice, I guess."

"And what's been holding you back?" Eliza asked gently, and Y/N gave a small smile.

"That's exactly the problem: it's my career." She shook her head lightly. "I can't justify putting how horny I am before dreams as a journalist, but I'm not sure I can have both, either."

"How exactly would the relationship hurt your career?" Angelica asked. "You're being too vague."

"First off, it’s not a relationship," Y/N corrected her, bordering on exasperated. “He’s just hot. It’s not that deep.”

"Yeah, fine. Don't avoid the question."

There was a skip. Y/N chewed her bottom lip, considering. "I mean... it wouldn't destroy my career or anything. If something went bad, though, or I ended up burning a bridge, it'd get real awkward real fast."

"How often do you see him?" Alex spoke up that time, still appearing to be fixated on dissecting every detail of the situation. His eyes were narrowed, and Y/N ignored how his question was more probing than in an effort to help.

"I dunno," she shrugged, exhaled softly. "I've seen him at the past couple of events I've covered, and I've been seeing more of him outside of work ever since Detroit."

"Ever since Detroit," he repeated, a knowing smile growing on his lips. Y/N's stomach dropped. He couldn't know who she was talking about, right? He'd have looked absolutely appalled if he suspected anything close to the truth, or so she hoped. He chuckled. "You've really been denying being into Lafayette this whole time, and now you're asking us for advice on whether you should screw him?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up. "Hang on--"

"Oh my God, you're right," Angelica agreed, eyes wide, and Eliza cocked her head to the side, looking as though she thought the idea was more than reasonable. "The whole situation makes perfect sense."

"No, wait, I'm not--"

"First the gala, and then Detroit," Alex continued, undeterred by Y/N's pleas of innocence. "And 'seeing him more often outside of work'? You just spent a week sleeping at Laf's apartment. You'd have had more than enough opportunities to bone."

"That explains why you were so anxious to find a place!" Eliza looked fully convinced of the theory, by then, and Y/N groaned. "It would get awkward quickly if you tried to screw him and then keep living at his apartment for weeks afterward."

"You guys, I'm not fucking Lafayette."

"Not yet, anyway." Angelica grinned. "That's why you wanted advice, right?"

"And you were out with him last night!" Alex's eyes flashed victoriously. "The timing only makes perfect sense."

Y/N scowled. "Y'know what? It doesn't matter who you think it is."

"Sounds like an admission--"

"But," she cut Alex off with a pointed glare. "You have all the relevant information, and I still really need some input."

Her three friends shared a glance, all looking rather pleased. It was Eliza who finally spoke.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Y/N." Her voice was soft, reassuring. "Any relationship, professional, platonic, or otherwise, can go wrong without sex ever being an aspect of it. You can't let the inevitable risk hold you back from the things you want."

Y/N was silent another moment; she couldn't help but feel that the advice was colored by their unfortunate theory of who was behind her sudden need for advice on her sex life.

"Besides," Angelica added, "If you're seeing him at the campaign events you cover and outside of them, the sexual tension's just gonna make it weird until you bang it out." She rolled her eyes at the crude guidance, and Angelica just shrugged at the weak glare she gave her, taking another sip of her drink.

"This sounds like suspicious logic."

"She's kinda right, Y/N," Alex agreed, nodding to Angelica. "It's awkward now, and the worst-case scenario after you two fucked would be awkwardness later on. Nothing to lose."

"I never said it was awkward now," she protested, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Is it?" He took her lack of a response as an answer in the affirmative.

She huffed at how smug he looked. "Most of this advice only applies if it's Lafayette."

"Perfect."

"Alex," she seethed, her tired glare burning into his nonchalant expression. "What about giving me some advice for the off-chance I just might not be referring to him, hm?"

Angelica shrugged. "The same doctrine follows, doesn't it? There's always a risk, and it's already awkward."

There was truth to her words. However, what Y/N hadn't and couldn't have shared was exactly how it would reflect on both her and the man in question if anyone were to find out they were sleeping together -- the Republican frontrunner screwing his most outspoken critic. She knew it'd raise eyebrows, she knew it would hurt both their careers, but was the risk real enough that it was worth placing at the crux of her decision?

Eliza was the one who eventually pulled her from her train of thought, reaching out to squeeze her arm reassuringly. "Hey. We support you no matter what decision you make, but it really seems like there isn't a downside to going for what you want here."

"Yeah?" Her voice was quiet.

"Yeah." She lifted her eyes to meet Eliza's gaze as she continued. "Now, it just comes down to you deciding whether this is something you really want."

She wasn't sure she bought into the idea of it as being as simple as that. It felt reductionist; it felt like it ignored all the variables she'd spent hours upon hours weighing in her own head.

However, if that really was the question, she knew without a doubt exactly where she stood.

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

Y/N WAS GETTING incredibly sick of leaning against the metal counter of the diner kitchen, counting down the seconds until she could actually close down for the night.

It was finally Friday, the end of her work week, and she was absolutely dying to finally reach the end of her shift. She was still waiting on a batch of brownies from the oven behind her, finishing up with washing the dishes to occupy her time, but no matter how she tried to distract herself, time only seemed to slow, taunting her. The keys to the diner were in her pocket; her fingers itched to turn the lock on the front door.

She checked her watch again. 9:56 PM.

The diner closed at 10.

She groaned as her watch didn't move any faster, glanced out the kitchen window to see that the last customer had already cleared out. She was growing tired, in part due to lack of sleep, but mostly, she was tired of her week of tearing her hair out in stress. Out the front window of the diner, she could see it still snowing; there was no way anyone was going to come through the blizzard less than five minutes before closing and demand service.

Her over timer pinged. She put down the mug she'd been drying and withdrew her tray, setting it on a cooling rack for the time being, and put the now-clean mug back on its shelf. She picked up another glass. The monotony was grating on her nerves, but she'd promised Mira she wouldn't close the diner until 10 PM sharp, so there she was.

She racked the glass. She reached for another. She dried it. She racked the glass. She reached for another.

Just as she began to wipe down the rim, though, the bell above the front door rang. Her grip on the cup tightened, frustration and disappointment shooting through her veins.

"Three minutes to closing," she called out from where she stood, trying (and failing) to keep the exasperated warning from her tone. With a sigh, she retied her apron and started toward the kitchen door.

"I know, I know." Whoever had decided to ruin her evening had the audacity to sound defensive. She furrowed her brow as she turned, beginning to push the door with her back as she finished cleaning the cup. The voice was eerily familiar. "'M just lookin' for a cup of coffee, and I'll be outta your hair."

With how preoccupied she was, though, she couldn't place where she knew it from until she saw him, looking as fatigued as she as he came in toward the counter, burrowed in his winter coat. She tried not to let her disbelief show across her face.

"Thomas?"

It wasn't until then that he saw her, either, emerging from the back with a skeptical gaze. He froze altogether; his eyebrows shot up. "Y/N. Hey. I, ah... I was expectin' Mira to be here." His voice was soft, and she looked at him expectantly for another moment, waiting, before he blinked hard, and continued. "...I can go, if you really... I mean I know you're just tryin' to close, and I don't wanna... I just, I--"

"It's fine." The words sounded at least as tired as she felt as she cut off his rambling. She reluctantly continued toward the front counter, and hesitantly, he did the same. She discarded the cup she'd been washing on a shelf along the back wall. "How do you take your coffee?"

Though she huffed internally, she tried to ignore it when she realized that she'd just washed the coffee pot not five minutes before. While she started brewing his drink, he took a seat in one of the stools across the counter from her.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, wary. His qualms were still written clearly in his gaze. "Whatever's easiest."

As he'd had no problem coming in three minutes before she intended to close the diner down, his sudden respect for her time made her roll her eyes. She glanced back over her shoulder as the coffee began to drip, giving him a flat look. "Thomas. It's just cream and sugar. I promise it isn't life-changing. Just tell me."

When she raised her eyebrows, he reluctantly said, "One cream, two sugars?" She nodded, bending over to pull a mug from the cabinet below. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Though he couldn't see it, she wore a small smile as she drew back to her full height. Fatigue was heavy in his quiet voice. "It's nothing."

The silence stretched on as neither of them seemed to know quite what to say. Thomas's gaze was set on Y/N as she walked behind the counter; the only sounds were the soft thud of the bag of sugar on the counter, the click as the refrigerator door fell shut, and the clink of ceramics. She pulled the pot of coffee from where it'd been brewing, and the plink of the drink against the bottom of the cup grew higher as she poured. When she reached for the sugar, she again looked over her shoulder, and she found him watching her.

"Am I allowed to ask what you're doing here at 10 PM on a Friday?"

"Technically, I got here at 9:57," he said matter-of-factly, and she cracked a smile, sliding open the silverware drawer to withdraw a spoon.

"Then what about what you're doing here at 9:57 on a Friday?" Her tone was mocking as she looked back at him, and despite the sleep in his gaze, he grinned.

"'M here for coffee, of course." He shrugged when she turned to him with the full mug, unamused -- the 'duh' at the end of the sentence was implied heavily in his tone.

As he gladly accepted the piping hot coffee from her, taking a delicate sip, wincing at the temperature, she raised an eyebrow and leaned across from him on the counter. "And you couldn't have gotten coffee anywhere else right now? Dunkin' Donuts? Your house?"

"Not this coffee."

"You mean the coffee I just brewed in a pot for, like, three minutes?" He nodded earnestly, and when she gave him a dramatically disbelieving stare, he shrugged, holding up his hands in defense.

"What? Mira roasts her own coffee. Can't find it anywhere else." He looked her up and down dubiously as though questioning why she could ever think his late-night pit stop wasn't justified. "And she won't sell me any without me comin' here every time I want it."

"So you'd have no issue busting in here right now if it was just Mira?"

"Somethin' like that."

Y/N furrowed her brow, leaning down onto her forearms. He looked nonchalant as he took another small sip of his drink despite the suspicion in her eyes. "When did you start coming here, anyway? Mira's annoyingly taken with you."

He grinned, his cocky lilt restored to his voice. "Can't help bein' such a charmer." When she scowled, rolled her eyes as she turned to put away the sugar and milk, he continued. "Three or four months. Stopped in here for a quick cup of coffee on my way outta work one night, and couldn't help stayin'."

"The coffee's that good?" she asked, cocking a disbelieving brow. He shrugged.

"And the atmosphere. Mira's a real sweetheart; she's always good to me."

"So, what, you and she are just best friends now?"

"Jealous?" His eyes flashed playfully. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Of you or of her?" she teased.

A wide grin broke through his expression at that. "Either one."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Hate to disappoint, but it's neither." She bit back a laugh at how hurt he looked; the pout he plastered on. "Anyway, is that why you're trying to crash the closing shift? Wanted to spend some quality time with Mira?"

He shrugged, unabashed. "More or less."

She nodded, the corners of her lips quirked up. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You could never."

Y/N had to laugh at how contrived his conviction was, at what bordered on offense in his voice even at the idea of it, and the sound made him smile. "Thanks, Thomas."

She rolled her eyes as she turned to the shelves, finishing with the cup she'd been wiping down before he'd showed up, and she unplugged the coffee pot. As she began to wipe down the back counter, he spoke. "Should I get goin' then?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow at his sudden change of tune, glanced back at him, he added, "I mean, since I missed Mira 'n' all, and I don't wanna hold you up here later than I already have, I just thought--"

"That's alright. We're out of to-go cups for the rest of your coffee, anyway." When he didn't respond, she finally turned around, wiping her hands on the rag she'd been using to clean. She wore a teasing grin. "Or are you just that anxious to get away from me, hm?"

"'Course not." His smile broadened to match hers as she rested her hands on the counter before him. "Just figured you were countin' down the seconds till you could get rid of me."

"Don't worry, I don't have the patience to count by seconds." Y/N shrugged. "I've been counting by minutes, instead."

"Aw, sweetheart, I'm hurt." He put an offended hand to his heart, drawing back from her where he sat. "Thought we were friends."

She huffed out an involuntary laugh. "Shut up and drink your coffee."

She went back to her tasks with that, shaking her head lightly, tongue in cheek to stifle her amusement. She heard him take another sip of his drink, but when the cup met the saucer, he asked, "What smells so good?"

Her eyebrows shot up as she glanced back into the kitchen. "Oh, right, almost forgot about those." She looked over her shoulder at him. "I've been making brownies, still need to cut them." While he nodded indifferently, there was a wistful look in his eyes as he sat up straighter on his stool to see into the kitchen. She folded her arms. "You want one?"

His eyebrows shot up, and his gaze snapped to where she stood. "Really?"

She shrugged, mildly amused. "Sure. Since I can't seem to get rid of you, anyway."

"That's tough!" he called after her, offended, as she exited into the kitchen, laughing lightly.

She emerged not minutes later, holding two of the brownies; they were still just slightly warm from the oven, so cutting them was no ordeal. She pursed her lips. Thomas's mouth was all but watering as she walked back toward the counter, handing him the napkin one of them was housed atop.

"Enjoy," she commented mildly, suppressed her amusement at the longing in his eyes for the dessert.

"Thanks, sweetheart." His voice was soft. She pushed herself up to sit on the back counter as she ate hers, and when she looked back up, she saw him bite into the dessert, a soft moan escaping his lips. She laughed.

"Is it that good?"

"'S incredible," he mumbled, covering his mouth as he tried to speak, before he swallowed. "Shit, Y/N."

"You're just flattering me because I'm not booting you out of here, but I'll take it anyway."

While she looked rather pleased, he frowned. "You accusin' me of bein' ingenuine?"

"Where did you ever get that idea?" she asked sarcastically, shaking her head. He scowled.

"Hurtful."

"I'm sure."

He put the brownie back on the counter, took another sip of his coffee. "How'd you end up workin' here, anyway?"

She shrugged. "I've told you about my most recent financial crisis. I needed a second source of income."

"Why here, though?" He cocked his head to the side, and she raised an eyebrow, not quite following the aim behind the question. "I just mean, I haven't seen you around here until the past week or so. Was it just 'cause they were hirin'?"

She gave a small smile. "Not quite. Mira and Orlando are my godparents."

His eyebrows shot up. "Yeah?" When she nodded, a small grin formed on his lips. "That why you're so jealous of me and Mira bondin'?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like you could ever replace me?"

He shrugged noncommittally, making Y/N scowl. "I dunno, sweetheart. She and I are gettin' pretty close."

"Get your own mother figure, Jefferson."

"Aw, c'mon now, don't be greedy." He grinned at how progressively annoyed she was beginning to look. "What? Why should you get two mother figures and I don't?" She wasn't quite following his line of reasoning as she cocked an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Don't have a godmother, feels like fair game to me."

When she didn't answer, he creased his forehead. His voice was hesitant. "Y/N?"

Another beat passed, before she raked a hand through her hair, offering him a smile. "I guess so."

With how weary she suddenly sounded, though, he didn't leave it at that. "What is it you're not tellin' me here?"

She cracked a grin as she met his eyes, amused by how he was looking at her. "Don't look so worried. Geez, Thomas. Mira and Orlando raised me, alright? That's all." She pushed herself off the back counter to discard her napkin.

However, as Y/N walked back toward where he sat at the counter, Thomas bit his lip. Her forced nonchalance didn't seem to quell his concern. "'M I allowed to ask why?"

She shrugged, but her voice grew quiet as she leaned onto the counter. "My parents passed on when I was pretty young." She chose not to meet his eyes, swallowing as she fiddled anxiously with her watch. "Mira and Orlando took me in, so they're all I've had for a family most of my life."

"What happened?" he asked softly. One of his large hands enveloped hers on the counter, and his touch was tentative, nervous, waiting for her to brush him off. When she didn't, he squeezed her hand lightly, and she looked up at him with a sad smile.

"Cancer." He looked crestfallen; she just pursed her lips. "Dad got sick when I was around ten. He was in and out of the hospital for a few years, and my mom spent most of her time with him, getting him treatment, taking care of him, waiting at his bedside. When she wasn't with him, she was working overtime to pay his medical bills. I was alone at home almost every night, so I started going to sleep at Mira and Orlando's when I was twelve."

Y/N's chest was tight. When Thomas didn't interrupt her, just watching her, waiting patiently, she bit her lip, apprehensive to continue. When he didn't fill the growing silence, she went on. "We thought Dad made a full recovery when I was thirteen, but by my fourteenth birthday, Mom was diagnosed. And it just felt like the same thing all over again."

She swallowed hard; tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she forced a smile, blinking hard, and huffed out a laugh despite herself. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to launch into a monologue on my childhood trauma. You don't need to listen to the full story just to be polite."

"'S alright." He offered her a soft smile, and when he brushed his thumb over her knuckle, she found herself squeezing his hand in return, a silent 'thank you.' "Go on. 'M listenin'."

She hesitated another moment when she saw the worry that clouded his gaze. “You sure?” He nodded with full conviction, and though her reluctance didn’t clear, she went on. "...Right. Then, well, after that, Mom was in chemo, and about five months later, Dad had a flare-up. Hospitalized him immediately. That's when I started living with the Murillos full time."

"Mira and Orlando?" he questioned, and she nodded.

"They got me through high school. I visited my parents when I could, but life went on, and as far as I knew, they were recovering." She shrugged, but her tone grew spiteful. She rarely talked about her parents, didn't want to think of how unfair fate had been to her growing up. "My junior year, they passed on within eight months of each other."

She pressed her lips together, and Thomas didn't release her hand. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, and she gave a soft smile, finally looking back up at him.

"It's alright, really." She shrugged, but she didn't move, didn't break his gaze. "It's been more than ten years. I miss them, but I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I've had a decade to mourn them, and even though grief doesn't ever really leave, it subsides. I'm just fine."

He nodded as she gave him a mournful smile, and alongside the empathy in his gaze, she couldn't help but notice his own sadness shining through. "I know what you mean," he said softly, and Y/N tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah?" As far as she knew, Thomas wasn't an orphan, and she'd done extensive research into his background.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Just... about grief never quite leavin'." She waited for him to elaborate, and it wasn't until she raised an eyebrow that he did. "I mean, it's normal. You still think about them every day? Wonder what they'd think about you if they were here now? Feel like you still owe them something, like you have to live your life as though they're around?"

She frowned. "Yeah, exactly." He nodded, and she furrowed her brow. Hesitantly, she asked in a quiet voice, "Thomas, who have you lost?"

He shrugged as he released her hand, instead taking a sip of his coffee. He seemed like he almost thought better of giving her an answer for a moment, but then he spoke. "My fiancée died when I was twenty-three."

"That's terrible." Y/N's brow had immediately knit; she rested on her hands at the edge of the counter. When Thomas saw how she was looking at him, the sadness in her eyes, he chuckled despite himself.

"Wasn't the best time of my life, if I'm honest."

"I'd imagine." His smile was warm at the dry quip as he looked down into his coffee absentmindedly. He didn't look up, never saw the concern in her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Was a freak accident. Came outta the blue a year after we moved in together." He let out a bitter exhale, somewhere between a huff and a mirthless laugh. "She was hit by a drunk driver, and it took her life on impact. I couldn't handle it."

It was her turn to take his hand, then. He'd begun to withdraw. Vulnerability showed through his gaze, through his clenched jaw, through his antsy, almost undetectable movements. He looked up at her, when she did, and she weaved her fingers through his.

"Of course you couldn't, Thomas." She put her other hand atop where she held his. "No one would be able to. Mourning doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. It also means you were strong enough to carry on."

"I wish I had." He looked dejected, by then, almost apathetic as he reflected. When she looked at him questioningly, she could hear him swallow thickly. "I didn't carry on. I ran. Moved away before her funeral 'cause I couldn't stand to see her casket. I didn't grieve for almost three years, just came to DC and started pourin' myself into my work."

"And what's wrong with that, hm?" His eyes had dropped again, and she leaned down into his line of vision, broke his absent stare. "Hey. What's so wrong with that?"

He let out a shaky sigh. "Never honored her memory. Didn't go to her grave or talk to her family until years after she was gone."

"You were trying to cope. That's all you can do. Everyone deals with loss differently."

"But she didn't deserve that," he pressed. She creased her forehead; concern rested in her eyes.

"But what about what you deserved, Thomas?" He cocked his head to one side; his gaze was brimming with inquisition. "Don't you deserve to take care of your own needs? Do you really think she would've wanted you falling apart?"

"Sweetheart, 'm not the one who was killed."

"You don't deserve to suffer just because you're the one who lived."

"But I shoulda been there, at her funeral, at her grave." He drew in a shaky breath. "Feels like I abandoned her."

You did what you needed to do," Y/N insisted. "Wherever she is now, whatever afterlife you believe in, or don't believe in, she obviously hasn't been forgotten."

He nodded, sniffed as he pulled back. He rubbed the corner of his eye, taking a breath, and she didn't comment on it. He ran a hand through his hair as he forced his composure, restored his easygoing manner. His grin was back as though it'd never been gone. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

They shared a smile for a moment, and he pursed his lips. "Can I... ask you not to do anythin' with this?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "What d'you mean?"

"We were never married, so almost no one knows about her, other than close friends and family." He sighed. "'S not information you can find online. And I just..." He trailed off as he looked up at her, tone tentative. "I know you're a journalist 'n' all, but please, can I ask you not to take this to the press?"

While anxiety was clear in his gaze, her eyes were wide, surprised that he thought he even needed to ask. "Of course, Thomas. I would never. It's safe with me."

"Thank you." A beat passed as she just stared into his eyes; with how he was day-to-day, with what she knew of him before, she could've never guessed how much pain he carried with him. He exhaled softly, gave her a grateful smile.

His trance seemed to break a few seconds later when she reached out to lightly squeeze his hand. He shifted in his seat, glanced at the clock above the kitchen door. "Shit, sweetheart, it's almost 10:40. You've gotta be dyin' to kick me outta here."

An apologetic grin accompanied his words, but as he searched her expression for some kind of response, Y/N recognized his question for what it was -- if he'd really wanted to go, he'd have already been pulling himself up, but did she want him to stay?

She shrugged, wearing a kind smile. "I mean, until our final customer is gone, I can't technically close up." He raised an eyebrow. "So really, I'm in no position to be kicking you out."

He shook his head, amusement slowly being restored to his features. "Really, now? An hour ago, you couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"Maybe I was just a worse employee an hour ago."

He laughed. "Aw, someone's gettin' attached, huh?"

She deadpanned as she met his shining eyes. His tone was nothing but teasing. "I take it all back. Get out. Go on."

"Aw, c'mon, sugar, I'm just kiddin'," he pleaded, though he showed no traces of regret. Y/N fixed him with a tired stare.

"You know where to find the door."

"Now, really?" he pouted, brow knit, and she rolled her eyes. "What'd I do to deserve this, hm?"

She scowled, though the amusement she tried to hold back lay clearly in her soft gaze. "Do you really want an answer to that?"

He seemed to think better of it at her words, and quickly changed tacts. "What about the rest of my coffee?"

"Dumping it out. No problem." She shrugged, and he huffed, giving her a fully manufactured look of disappointment.

"Thought we were connectin', and now this is how you treat me?" She held her skeptical stare, and a grin broke through his facade. "Now, what's Mira gonna think when I tell her you kicked out her favorite customer?"

Y/N regarded him wearily, in no mood for his schtick. His eyes were gleaming; he looked up at her with warmth coloring his gaze, and ultimately, when she found no malice in his stare, no ill intent, nothing but goodwill, she huffed.

"Fine. Whatever. Finish the coffee. In the meantime, since apparently, you're shamelessly becoming a parasite, I'm gonna get myself something to eat. You gonna want anything so I can save myself the extra trip?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't mind another brownie."

"And now what's Mira gonna think when she realizes all of our bakery is gone tomorrow?" She folded her arms, turning his own words back on him, but he was unfazed.

"That you gave it to her favorite customer, of course."

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

AND AS THE night slowly stretched on, the pair went on like that for more than another hour, recounting their pasts to one another, each passing judgment on the terrible haircuts the other had in the 90s, reminiscing on college. Y/N was surprised to hear Thomas played the violin (she couldn't tell whether he was joking when he offered to play for her sometime); Thomas couldn't help but poke fun at her when he learned she wrote sappy poetry in high school (and in turn, she threatened again to kick him out). They always seemed to find an excuse for him to hang around just a little longer.

Eventually, midnight struck; both Y/N's and Thomas's attention was drawn to the little clock above the door that finally chimed.

They met each other's eyes for a moment, and while Y/N just waited expectantly, letting him make the call on his next move, Thomas sighed.

"I really should head out, sweetheart."

Y/N smiled softly; her teasing expression couldn't seem to mask the affection dancing in her eyes. "Finally. Can't close until you're outta here, remember? It's kinda rude that you didn't leave earlier, really."

He scoffed, despite that there was no real scorn in her gaze, and raised a brow. "Mm, and it was really rude of me to accept the coffee, and brownies, and leftovers you kept offerin' me every time I tried to leave."

"You didn't put up much of a fight, to be fair." She pursed her lips, giving him a pointed look, and he chuckled.

"Won't deny it."

She'd long since finished wiping everything down, including the dishes she'd been giving Thomas, and though she was far from pushing him out the door, she wasn't going to resist some much-needed sleep.

Thomas finally stood up from his stool, fished his wallet out of his coat pocket. "How much do I owe you?" He glanced back up from where he was leafing through bills, and Y/N shrugged, wearing a small smile.

"This one's on the house."

His eyebrows shot up. "You sure?"

"Mhm." She nodded, cracked a lopsided grin as she still leaned against the counter. "Consider it payback for the century-old book I've got stashed upstairs."

"Upstairs?" he repeated quizzically, and she nodded.

"Yeah, didn't I mention? This was the housing plan I figured out," she told him. "Mira cut me a deal in exchange for taking the late shift every night."

"Every night, huh?" he asked, mischief creeping into his expression. She raised a suspicious brow. "So you're tellin' me, if I was gonna show up at 9:58 next Friday--"

"Don't you dare!" she warned him, but when he laughed, his smile was contagious. "I'm gonna have to start closing up at 9:56 here on out."

"I can adjust." He sent her a wink before tucking his wallet back into his pocket, glancing out at the snowstorm beyond the store windows. Y/N was shivering just looking at it. He pursed his lips. "You sure you've got no to-go cups left?"

"No more coffee, Thomas," she said sternly, giving him a pointed look.

"Alright, alright! Geez," he laughed. "Guess I'll just have to show up tomorrow three minutes before openin' huh?"

She shrugged. "Be my guest; I don't work Saturday mornings."

"Noted. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out your schedule."

"That anxious to see me again?" She cocked her head to the side, smug, and he winked.

"Always." He exhaled softly before finally turning toward the exit. "I'll see you around?"

"You know where to find me." He nodded, chuckled as he tucked his hands in his pockets, burrowing into his coat as he neared the door. "G'night, Thomas."

He cast her one final glance over his shoulder, eyes shining. "Night, sweetheart."

She shuddered at the gust of cold air that entered the diner upon his exit, finally going to lock up the front, drawing the shades before she went up to her flat. The brownies she'd made were put away, the chairs were all up; she did one final, brief sweep of the place, and hit the light.

She couldn't deny her fatigue as she reached her apartment, locking the front door behind her, but after discarding her apron into her hamper, she made the executive decision that she needed to shower before she could go to sleep. She'd been going all day long and had begun to smell like a mix of old ham, coffee, and melted chocolate -- three good things in isolation, but not quite something she’d be purchasing as a Dior fragrance anytime soon.

She emerged from the shower less than half an hour later, and though it'd woken her up just a bit, it was nice to feel clean, putting on clean pajamas, being in her clean apartment.

She was just on the inoperational side of sleepy as she walked back to her room, yawning into one of her sweater paws, checking her phone once more for the night, going through the notifications from the past few hours.

She was already burrowed halfway under her blankets when she saw the message that made her freeze. It was on her Twitter account.

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: are you still up

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry about this

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: but my car won't start

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im still out in your parking lot

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: think the weather broke something in the engine

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry to ask this

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: but if you're awake, would u be willing to let me back in ?

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: just real quick i swear

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: please it's less than freezing out here

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry about this y/n

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: really i dont mean to take advantage of your hospitality

@Thomas_Jefferson is typing...

Her eyes widened; her eyebrows shot up. She was already in bed, she was dying to finally just get some sleep, but she couldn't just leave him out in the cold knowing she was the only one around to help him out. She sighed.

@Y/N_L/N sent: jesus christ, thomas stop rambling

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry

@Y/N_L/N sent: relax, ill come down to let you in now

She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed, bringing one blanket with her to the stairs, mildly bleary-eyed.

Once again, her phone pinged.

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: thank you

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: ill come to your door

Sure enough, when she made it down, shifted the blinds to peer through, ensure that it was actually Thomas and that she wasn't about to get abducted in her booty shorts and men's XL college sweatshirt, she saw him standing there, shivering, and her eyes widened. She rushed to unlock the front door, and Thomas didn't waste a second coming in.

"Jesus, sweetheart, I can't thank you enough." He let out a deep breath, seemingly reveling in the warmth of the room. She closed the door quickly behind him, though the wind certainly put up a fight. "'M so sorry about this. Really, if I could fix it now, I would, but I think somethin' in the motor froze while I was parked out there for a couple hours. I--"

"It's ok, Thomas," Y/N said softly, doing her best not to sound as though she was half asleep, and she pulled her blanket tighter around herself. "Really. I'd rather you not freeze to death; it'd put a bit of a damper on my career."

He grinned. "So self-centered."

She scowled. "Go back outside."

He laughed as he unbuttoned his coat, tucked his gloves in his pocket and withdrew his phone. "Did I wake you up?" He eyed her choice of attire dubiously, looking amused, and she shifted her blanket to cover her shorts.

"Nah, I was just on my phone in bed. You're fine."

"...Right." She ignored his disbelieving tone.

"How long were you out there for before you messaged me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He sighed.

"'Bout half an hour. 'M sorry, I couldn't take the cold any longer."

"Don't apologize, geez," she huffed. "You think I'd have rathered you stayed in your icebox of a car and said nothing?"

"I'm gonna guess by your tone that it's a no, but I gotta say, I wasn't so sure."

"Oh, shut up!" Y/N scowled, and he grinned. "Can I call someone for you? A tow truck? A mechanic?" She asked, rubbing the side of her nose, eyebrows raised, and Thomas shook his head.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it." He seemed engrossed in whatever he was typing into his phone, staring down at it intently and hardly sparing her a glance as he furrowed his brow. "I'm gonna call myself an Uber. I'll be outta your hair in five minutes, and I'll come by to get my car in the morning. That ok?"

She nodded, hardly even processing his words. "Yeah. Yeah, fine."

She stifled another yawn as he grew increasingly frustrated with his app. Several moments passed; she saw him repeatedly pressing the same button with no increasing degree of success. It took him longer than it should've to admit defeat, letting out a sigh.

"Everything ok?"

He shook his head. "Uber isn't runnin' in this storm. Can I take you up on that tow truck?"

"Yeah, d'you want the number?"

"Please." His expression plainly revealed his increasing desperation as she pulled up the contact in her phone, rattled off the digits to him.

She spaced out gradually after taking a seat on one of the stools by the counter, absentmindedly watching him make the call. His relief was written clearly in his eyes when someone answered, and she listened to him go back and forth with the person on the other end of the line at such an ungodly hour. Whoever it was didn't seem to have any more patience than Thomas. It wasn't until he was cut off mid-sentence that his face finally fell.

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You have a good night, now."

"Bad news?" Y/N raised an eyebrow when he finally hung up the call. He looked to her with pursed lips.

"The roads are closed through downtown 'cause of a severe weather warnin'." Her eyebrows shot up, and he let out a defeated sigh. "I'm so sorry; 'm sure I have someone in the area who I can call and just walk over to. Gimme a few more minutes."

While he searched frantically through his phone, brow knit in worry, she could see the panic beginning to show through. She pursed her lips. His solution seemed flawed at best and downright suicidal at worst; the weather was brutal. "Thomas," she began, swallowing her qualms, but she didn't get a chance to go on, not in the midst of his rising anxiety

"You know of any hotels close to here, sweetheart? Even just--"

"There aren't any, Thomas," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. She knew she had to offer him residence for the night, by then, but exhaustion colored her reluctance.

"How far d'you suppose the nearest is?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing up. "'Cause I can walk to some--"

"Thomas." She looked at him tiredly. "I live upstairs."

He blinked, hesitant to draw the only clear conclusion from what she was saying, too afraid of the idea that he could've been being presumptuous. "...Okay?"

Her gaze was flat. "Just come crash at my apartment for the night. I have the space; I can't let you try to walk seven miles in the storm to some dingy B&B."

He bit his lip; he appeared anxious to accept her offer. "Listen, I don't wanna impose, sweetheart; I can--"

"You aren't imposing. Calm down." He raised an eyebrow; tentativeness still lay in his gaze, but he seemed to be realizing the futility of his situation. "I'm offering, alright?"

He paused. "You don't have to take me in just cause--"

"Thomas." She huffed, cutting him off for what she hoped was the final time. "Stop worrying about it. Seriously. If it'd really make you that uncomfortable, I guess I could bring a pillow down here for you to sleep on the floor, if that was what you really wanted, but otherwise, just come upstairs."

He raised his eyebrows, and his voice was quiet when he spoke. "You sure?"

She chuckled. "I'm sure. Now, stop making such a big deal of it. C'mon."

She nodded toward the staircase before going back to lock the front door to the diner, and she hit the lights again as he followed her up. "Thank you so much, Y/N, really, I--"

"What'd I just say about making a big deal out of it, hm?" She glanced back at him as they reached the top of the spiral staircase up to her apartment, and she unlocked the door. He gave a soft smile.

"Still, sweetheart. Thank you."

"It's not a problem," she chuckled. He came alongside her through the entrance, and she shut her front door behind him as he glanced around the flat curiously.

"What should I do with my coat?"

"Just put it on one of the hooks by the mirror. Leave your shoes wherever; it doesn't really matter." She flipped the kitchen light on as she walked in. "So, the couch is a pull-out; if you're still up when I go to sleep, the bedding and mattress pad are in the closet at the back of the hall. The bathroom is also back there, first door on your left, and you're welcome to help yourself to anything from the kitchen."

He raised an eyebrow as he shrugged off his coat, kicked off his shoes. "You got any more of those brownies up here?" he asked innocently.

Y/N paused where she stood, sending him a warning look. "That better be a joke."

"Of course, sugar." He'd begun wandering through her sitting room while she poured herself a drink. "Seriously, though, were you goin' to sleep when I messaged you? Don't wanna keep you up any later than I already have."

She shrugged. Despite her exhaustion, despite how she knew it'd have been impossible for him not to catch onto her fatigue, going to sleep didn't seem like the best of her options -- first off, she felt guilty to try and leave him alone there when he was all hopped up on caffeine, but second, and far more importantly, she didn't want to leave all her personal possessions out for him to poke through. (He'd probably go poking around, too, and she wouldn't blame him in the slightest; it wasn't like she hadn't dug through his belongings before.)

She finally answered, "Nah, not just yet. Was gonna pour myself a glass of wine, though; you want any while I'm at it?"

He hummed, considering it as she reached up for the bottle where she'd stashed it. "Wouldn't mind one."

So with that, she withdrew two glasses, pouring her cheap Cabernet Sauvignon out for the pair of them. With a sigh, she discarded her blanket on the side of the rug next to the couch, unable to carry both glasses along with it.

When she rejoined him, he stood before her bookshelf, arms crossed, leaning forward ever-so-slightly to get a better look at the titles.

"See anything you like?"

Her voice made him turn, matching her smile as he accepted the glass of wine. "I just might." His playful wink as he looked her over made her laugh. "Thanks for this, by the way."

She shrugged as he nodded to the drink she'd poured, lifting her own glass to her lips. "It's no Sassicaia, but it does the trick."

He took a sip, the corners of his lips quirking up. "Could be worse."

Though her gaze drifted to the bookshelf before him, she laughed lightly. "What high praise," she commented dryly.

"Isn't it?" Thomas grinned, glancing down at her, and she rolled her eyes. Her reaction didn't seem to deter him, though. "'M kiddin'," he reassured her, as though she'd taken any sort of offense at the statement. "Really, hope you know how grateful I am for all this."

His tone was light as he gestured to the room around them. While he seemed unfazed, Y/N couldn't help but feel absurd, as though the whole situation still could've been some strange, lucid dream.

"Ah, yes, I'm such a guardian angel," she agreed, tone dry with sarcasm. "I've provided an old mattress and an eight-dollar bottle of wine. You really struck it lucky."

He gave a cheeky grin. "The company more than makes up for it."

She scoffed, shaking her head, but she didn't suppress her growing smile. "You really owe me big, then."

"I'll find a way to pay you back."

She took another sip of her wine, and for once, the warmth blossoming in her chest wasn't just fast-acting heartburn from having cheaped out on dollar-store alcohol. She watched him another moment, waited to speak until he finally met her gaze. "Anything on my bookshelf holding your interest?"

His shrug revealed next to nothing. "No surprises here."

"Oh, because you know my taste in literature so well?" Her skepticism made him smile. Really, any resistance she provided didn't come from him being incorrect, but instead from how uneasy his discerning gaze made her; he spoke as though he could see right through her, as though he'd long since figured out what makes he tick. She couldn't help but feel exposed.

"You're easier to read than you think, sweetheart." She didn't answer, but instead raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on. "Keats, Austen, Plath..." He quirked a brow. "... seven different copies of The Princess Bride."

"Hey, it's a classic!" she defended, and he laughed.

"'Course it is." He took a sip of his drink, eyes shining. "It's interestin', though."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Rest of this apartment is almost completely bare, but this bookshelf is almost overflowin'."

She cocked her head. "Care to enlighten me on what makes that so interesting?"

"'S just predictable." He shrugged, his gaze turning to Y/N with a small smile. "Says somethin' about your priorities, huh? Nothin' you need straightened out."

His wink made her grin. "And who gave you the right to come into my home and judge my lifestyle?"

"Hey, I'm just validatin' you," he defended. "Besides, last I checked, you gave me that right by invitin' me up here."

Y/N huffed at how pleased he looked with himself, going to take a seat on her couch behind him. He raised an eyebrow as she did, and when his gaze followed her, he found himself turning, leaning against the bookshelf as she addressed him. "Don't make me regret it when you've hardly been up here for ten minutes."

"Aw, but I'm touched by how much you care, savin' me from the storm."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I didn't want you to freeze to death, try not to let it go to your head."

"But sweetheart, you saved my life; how could I not be forever in your debt?" At that point, he was playing up his gratitude, having plastered on a full pout, wearing a wistful expression, and Y/N hoped in vain that her amusement didn't show on her face.

"Don't be so dramatic; I just saved my career." She hid her smile behind the rim of her glass.

"C'mon, do I really mean that little to you?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

He laughed, coming back around to join her on the couch. "I'm gonna let that one go, just cause I know you don't mean it."

"...Right." The couch cushions dipped beside her as he sat, and she shifted, turned to him, pulling a leg up beside her onto her seat. He raised a dubious eyebrow before taking another sip of wine.

"You really expect me to believe that?" While his voice was light, the question itself wasn't in jest. The fact that she chose to ignore her adamant attraction to him didn't make it any less obvious, apparently -- it was forever bubbling just below the surface, hanging tense in the air between them. She sighed.

"Alright, I guess you caught me. It's true, my motives aren't purely selfish. I confess." She looked him in the eye with faux solemnity. "I'm also trying to save James and Dolley from having to plan a funeral."

He only shook his head, amused. She was deflecting again, and not subtly, either. Thomas was trying to tread lightly, but she wasn't making it easy on him. "Ever the humanitarian."

"I do try." His gaze was growing empty as she held his eyes. He looked as though his mind was elsewhere. When she drank more of her wine, eyeing him, he hadn't moved a muscle, his expression was blank. "Thomas?"

He blinked hard when she waved her hand in front of him, forcing a wide smile. "Sorry, sweetheart, just spaced out a minute."

"What are you thinking about?" The question was innocent, but it made him tense. He shrugged, pausing a moment.

"Just wonderin' where you got that century-old book of Bryon poems hidden." Though she raised an eyebrow, she tried not to let her skepticism pervade her expression. He raised an eyebrow. "You clearly don't have it packed into that same old bookshelf. Lose it already?"

"Not quite yet." She elected to ignore how he was deflecting in turn. "It's at my beside. I was doing some light reading last night."

"Enjoyin' it?"

"So much." Her excitement was genuine, then, when he raised a brow; her eyes were shining. "D'you know it's been annotated by like, seven different people? It's so interesting, seeing different interpretations from the past hundred years."

His lips quirked. "And what'd you think of my notes?"

"Some of those were yours?"

He nodded. "Everything in purple."

"You have pretty handwriting." When he grinned outright, her gaze drifted to his mouth a moment. She caught herself before he could react. "Anyway, I thought you said no one had read that in almost fifteen years."

"'S cause no one had. Those annotations were all the way back in college."

She raised her eyebrows. "Now, I definitely didn't expect you to be a fan of Byron."

"Oh yeah?" He crossed one of his legs over the other, shifting to face her, and draped an arm over the back of the couch. He looked curiously at her. "Why's that?"

"Definitely didn't take you for a romantic."

"Hey, now." His offense was entirely a facade, and his smile despite it didn't help his case. "I'm hurt. I've always been a romantic."

She snorted out a disbelieving laugh. "I'm sure you have."

"I'm not kiddin'!" he defended, but her clear skepticism amused him regardless. "'M a sentimental person."

"Could've fooled me."

"And why's that?"

"I dunno." She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink as she glanced at him. While his tone was lighthearted, his gaze was inquisitive, searching -- he didn't respond, letting the silence stretch on, and she felt as though she owed him an answer. "You're just so... laid-back and carefree. You're all confident, and brash, and have a flair for the dramatics. I guess I wouldn't have pegged you as a softie."

"I like to think I'm pretty empathetic." His voice was soft. "I've devoted my life to public service, to makin' people's better. You've gotta be compassionate to put the time and money into runnin' for president, right?"

"Or you have to be power-hungry," she contended, and though her tone was light, he creased his forehead.

"'S that really what you think of me?"

With how he was looking at her, bordering on hurt, Y/N could feel guilt building at the back of her throat. She'd come into her current job with so many preconceptions about him that she couldn't have known whether were true, but she hadn't hesitated in entertaining the ideas regardless. "Not anymore." She was sure she looked as embarrassed as she felt. "But I may have made some unfair assumptions, once upon a time."

He gave her a mild grin. "Don't sweat it; it goes both ways."

"Excuse me?" She sat up straighter, raising an eyebrow, and he only seemed amused as he regarded her.

"Oh, you're actin' all offended, now?"

"I am offended."

"You shouldn't be." She squinted suspiciously at him as he continued. "Never thought you were a bad person, or anythin', just didn't expect all this from you." With his words, he gestured to the room around him, and she was slow to reply.

"What d'you mean?"

"Lettin' me stay so late in your diner, takin' me in with the storm out there..." He trailed off, shrugging. "You're bein' more generous than you're givin' yourself credit for."

"To be fair, you would've been able to get home without a problem if I'd just kicked you out earlier."

"But you didn't." How perceptive he'd suddenly become had her shifting in her seat. "Feel like I owe you for it."

She smiled bashfully, sipping her wine. With how he was looking at her, heat had begun to rise in her cheeks. "Really, Thomas, it's not a big deal. It's the least I can do."

"It means a lot, though. Really. Didn't have to do any of this for me." His gaze roamed her apartment thoughtlessly, and he wore a small smile. Her eyes were fixed firmly on him all the while, drinking in his expression, the smallest details of his face, from the little patch below his ear he'd missed while shaving, to the stray curl that always seemed to fall across his forehead. "Thank you, Y/N."

What happened next caught them both off guard, despite how slow, gradual, even how nervous it was.

Her action was unexpected, but not sudden, and for once, Y/N didn't think about it. She just acted. He'd turned back to her in surprise when her fingertips grazed his stubble, no longer caught up in eyeing the room around them, and before he said anything, she was leaning in, kissing him.

The action wasn't rushed, and at first, it was chaste -- he was breathless, kissing her back without thinking twice, and his hand rose to cup her cheek, following her movements.

It took him a minute to pull away, and when he did, Y/N backed off immediately, wide-eyed. "Sweetheart--"

Her stomach dropped. Rejection hadn't been an outcome she'd considered, not after how he'd been coming onto her time and time again, not after the other night, with how frankly he'd asked her what she was looking for from him. "Shit, Thomas, 'm sorry." Her apology was breathless. "I... I didn't mean to make you--"

But he didn't let her go on, his hand moving from her cheek to the nape of her neck, stopping her from retreating to the opposite side of the couch as she lay her glass of wine on the coffee table. "Is this what you want?"

His question made her freeze. He wasn't shooting her down; his eyes searched hers, and she swallowed roughly. "Yes," she breathed. Another beat passed. She bit her lip, waiting for him to react, waiting to see what he'd say or do, but he didn't move.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm. "'Cause if you're gonna run out, rebuke me again, I can't--"

"I'm sure." She didn't waste another moment in pulling him back down to her, pushing herself across the couch, closer to him, and as her lips again met his, he discarded his glass, instead tugging her onto him by the waist.

She pulled him close that time, abandoning her hesitance. He didn't want to stop her, either -- not when her arms snaked up around his neck, not when she swung one of her legs over his, straddling his lap, not when she knit a hand into the curls at the base of his neck, and his self-control was fleeting as he bit down on her bottom lip, making her moan. But despite how she was kissing him, despite the sheer desire in her actions, his concern hadn't subsided.

When he held her face just inches from his own, thumb tracing patterns into the top of her hip, her stare was saturated with surprise. "Y/N, really," he started, worried. She raised her eyebrows. "I've gotta know--"

"I've thought this through," she cut him off firmly, rolling her hips teasingly down against his, and the action made him groan. "I want this. I want you. I'm not going to regret this; I'm not going to run off. If you want me to stop, tell me, tell me now, please, but I swear, Thomas. I know what I want." She'd withdrawn a hand from where it hung at his upper back, instead running it down to the top of his chest, her fingernails ghosting over his shoulder, across his collarbone. "Do you?"

There was a skip as he paused, but when he found no reservations in her gaze, only reckless abandon and want, his mind was made up.

"Beyond a doubt." His words were hardly a whisper, lost quickly in both of their rising thoughts, in the growing cacophony of pleasure as her lips returned to his without hesitation, lost in the rising sighs and low moans as she pressed up against him, and finally, finally, they both stopped thinking and overthinking, doubting and hesitating.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away as Y/N tugged on the tie Thomas still wore, as he pulled her closer by her waistband She was breathing heavily when his lips found her neck, shivering when his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin, when his fingertips dug into her hips. It was easy for her to lose herself in him, after weeks of waiting and wanting and wishing, and easier still when she pulled on his soft curls, making him groan against her skin, when his grip on her tightened as she ground her hips down against his.

She could feel him shudder underneath her when his hips jerked, when he pulled her down against him, when she let out a soft whine. By that point, his tie was sloppily loosened, hanging crooked around his neck, and Y/N had managed to undo the first few buttons of his shirt despite how preoccupied she'd quickly become.

She had no caution left to cling to. She'd shaken him off time and time again; she'd rebuffed his unshakeable audacity, but it took her until he backed off to realize what it was she was really looking for.

Something about it all scared her, made her heart race and her head spin, but as his hands traveled further south, her pulse spiked, and she couldn't bring herself to mind it. He asked where her bedroom was; her answer was just a murmur between hot, fervent kisses as he returned to her mouth.

She knew she wouldn't regret this all come morning. She wouldn't regret it two days later, nor two weeks later, the risk of it all only compounding upon the excitement. With his skin against hers, with him picking her up by the thighs, making her yelp as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, she was struggling to remember that there was any big picture to it. There would always be her job. There would always be the election. There would always be their nosy mutual friends and a bloodthirsty political landscape. But just then, in her low-budget apartment with her secondhand furniture, as the blizzard raged on within six inches of her warm, comfortable living room, as all of Washington D.C. was buried under a cloak of snow, as frozen in space as it felt in time, the two of them were all there was.

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