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kvnyin · 3 years

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Strangely, In That Moment. . I Still Felt Cold.

Pairing: Felix X M!Reader

Wording: a lot

Genre: Angst Sorta? I think more sad, v sad i dunno

TW: homophobia, internalized homophobia, slight implications of depression and anxiety

song to go with it cause yea: sad

A/N: This bad boy is LONG LONG but i worked rlly hard on it so pls read it throughly loves! If you know where the title is from I love you <3

ps; I no longer have an editor and I suck at grammar, proper wording and correct punctuation sometimes so please bare with me T__T

-------

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m sorry, we’ll meet again I promise.”

“How can you guarantee that?”

“I can’t.”

-------

You woke up to the sun in your eyes, it stung as you focused on the bright orb shining through the window, snow was falling gently outside, coating your town in a blanket of white. After ruffling your hair around and pulling your disorientated shirt down, you got out of bed with a heavy mind.

That stupid dream came up again.

You stood in the middle of your room, your mind was roaming for answers. Blankly looking out of the snow covered window, you heaved a shaky breathe and got dressed for the day.

----

December 5, 2016

It was a really cold day, it was snowing quite a lot. You buried your face in Felix’s scarf, waiting at the usual spot, the Royal Botanic Garden, couples littered the snowy park.

You rocked back and fourth on your feet, checking your phone periodically waiting for a new message, Felix had asked you to meet him suddenly, you didn’t mind though. Ever since winter break happened you haven’t been out as much, this felt nice.

You stood in the cold for what felt like forever, hugging yourself to keep the warmth from seeping out anymore then it already has, looking down to stare at your redden hands.

‘I should’ve brought gloves’

Mid-way through your thought, you felt something warm against your cheek. Slowly turning around to face whatever it was, a peek of blonde caught your eye.

“Felix where have you been? I feel like I’m going to turn into a popsicle.”

You let out a laugh after seeing his face, a line of hot cocoa resting on his top lip.

“How’s my mustache? Took me a while to grow ya know!”

He cracked a goofy smile, handing you the other cup of hot cocoa. You carefully sipped the sweet liquid, it burned your tongue a little but it did help you warm up a bit.

“Why did you call me out today with no explanation?”

“I wanted to hang out with my cute puppy duh.”

“Felix I’m not a dog, we’ve been over this.”

“Aw come on, you’re too serious for your own good. I called you to come shopping with me!”

“Shopping? Why can’t you just do that by yourself?’

“You’re no fun. Besides you came all this way, might as-well tag along with me!”

You rolled your eyes playfully at Felix, but complied with his little request. The rest of the day went by quicker than you expected, time always seemed to pass by faster whenever you were with Felix, no matter the place, it never felt like enough.

You guys went to a bunch of stores, bought things, tried clothes on, and made fun of mannequins. Walking out one of the many stores, something had caught Felix’s eye.

“Hey! Look it’s the new ice-cream shop, we need to go in come on!”

“Felix my wallet is crying right now, I can’t-”

“It’s on me!”

He grabbed your hand, and your heart fluttered. He’s done this ever since elementary school but it always manages to make you go wide-eyed while filling your stomach with butterflies. No matter what your face always flared red. Reluctantly following him into the cute ice-cream shop, you could feel your heart beating out of your ears and chest, that your breathing is heavy with a mix of wandering eyes.

Over the years, you’ve become attached to Felix. He was the one who could touch you and not make you uncomfortable, the one you could laugh your heart out with, the only one you would show your tears to. You would think over the course of more than 10 years, you would’ve told him everything and anything but the fact is, you’ve been hiding one.

It’s difficult to comprehend really, it’s not like you’re ashamed of who you are. No matter how much Felix meant to you, you would never let him decide what kind of person you became.

Though the reason why you’re scared of what’s inside your heart is because it’s forbidden.

We’ve all been taught, or have heard from someone at some place, that loving the same gender as your own is nothing but trouble and disgusting.

That no matter how much you connect with a person, no matter how much you pour sunflowers into their heart, society will never fully accept you as one.

And that’s scary.

Felix never really spoke about anything relating to the LGBTQ+ community, and if you guys had happen to walk past a gay couple all he would do is look ahead, his expression still the same, as-well as his body language; swift and gentle; content.

Though it was a different story when it came to speaking on the topic, you’ve tried to confess to him, drops hints and even went as far as telling his mom. Though before you could finish your confessions the moment Felix heard the word “homosexuality” he would tense at his shoulders, look away in irritation and tell you were being insensitive for bringing it up when it wasn’t your place to.

You shook your head slightly to get rid of the bad thoughts. You were out right now with Felix, you shouldn’t be thinking this way during such a good time. Peeking at Felix, he was grinning ear to ear with little worry in his eyes and beaming with so much light you couldn’t help but let your heart pound loudly.

You have to tell him, one way or another.

“What flavor are you getting? I was planning on getting-”

“Mm, Chocolate.”

You both muttered at the same time.

“You read my mind! Oh my god. . . are you a wizard?”

“Felix, we’ve been friends for more than 10 years. We’ve also have gotten the same ice-cream flavor for more than 10 years.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be surprised!”

You both laughed at each other’s comment and proceeded to find a seat. Eventually Felix laid his eye’s on a little booth by the window, with your hand still interlocked with his.

It was crowded and busy, so of course two boys holding hands caused unwanted attention.

You could see Felix tense at the stares, he quickly let go of your hand and shoved his hand into his hoodie pocket. You felt your heart sink by the lost of contact but still acted as if it didn’t bother you, you had to or else nasty comments would start flooding in if you didn’t.

Sitting down, the tension was gone. By the time you turned to look at Felix, the guy already downed three spoonfuls of his ice-cream, of course you laughed at him while he gave you the 'lost puppy' look.

Then, he cracked the prettiest smile, his eye’s locked with yours.

God if he wasn’t pretty enough, he was even prettier with his golden brown eye’s glowing from the sunlight, his freckles littering his face like the stars alined and that flushed pink blush spreading across his nose.

Without thinking, you leaned in. Your mind was so clouded you didn’t hear Felix screaming at you, not until you felt two hands grasp at your shoulders tightly.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You sobered up quite quickly after seeing Felix’s face.

He’s never cussed at you before.

And he’s never had such a disgusting look on his face.

Shocked turned into anger in a matter of seconds, you roughly shook off Felix’s hands.

“What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing? I like you. God fucking damnit I like you! Never once have you ever considered that have you? I feel like an idiot liking you because you’re all about this ‘we’re only friends’ bullshit!”

Felix immediately back-offed of you, his expression was sunken and grim.

By the time you were done yelling, the whole shop was looking at the both of you, whispers filled the air.

“They’re gay?”

“Oh my god are they dating?”

“What a disappointment.”

“I hope my son never turns out that way, disgusting young boys they are.”

Your eye’s started wandering, scanning the shop. Every eye was on you, and every single word was aimed at you, panic started to set in.

You were so focused on the stares that you hadn’t noticed Felix running out of the shop until you turned your gaze back to him and he was gone.

You sprinted out of the shop, searching every-where for Felix. You ran as fast as you could, tripping over your shoes and every little rock, calling out his name repeatedly over and over again.

You never found him in the span of the hour you searched.

It was already dark out by the time you stopped running, your legs were sore and bruised. You knew he went home, but you hoped he would appear in-front of you, telling you that it was alright to feel like you did, but of course he didn’t.

You fell to your knees in the empty park, snow was falling down on top of your head and shoulders.

You never cried whenever inconveniences happened, and god forbid you to cry in a public area.

You can’t recount the last time you cried, was it weeks ago? Months ago?

It didn’t matter when because you could feel warm tears running down your face. Tears turned into sobs, your hiccups echoed around the park, at that moment you didn’t care if people heard you.

The only thing racing through your mind was Felix, if you had known he would react this way you would’ve never uttered a single word.

You ripped off the scarf, looking down at it with tears in your eyes.

And that’s all you did for hours, on the ground in the bitter cold while snow gently fell onto you.

Holding onto Felix’s scarf, you finally mustered the courage to face the world again and trudged home.

It wasn’t a surprise when you fell ill, it wasn’t a huge shock either that Felix hadn’t talked to you. You didn’t have the energy to message him, and if he had messaged you, you didn’t have the guts to admit that you lost him just yet.

You were bed ridden for a week, and not once did Felix come check up on you, not once did he call to ask how you were. To say the least your mother was concerned when Felix didn’t come over to take care of you like he always would.

“Where is he? He usually would be bickering with me about what to cook you!”

Your mother let out a light-hearted laugh, while you pursed your lips. You hadn’t told your mother what had happened that night, Felix was like her second son and if she had known she would never see him again you didn’t know how she would react.

Ironic enough, his house was next door. Thus explaining where your guy’s relationship stood after the incident.

“I don’t know, he’s probably just busy.”

“That boy is wrapped around your finger! You know he would drop everything for you in an instant if he knew you were sick dear. I vividly remember-”

“Can we not talk about this right now please?”

Her smile slightly drooped.

“Honey, listen. Felix won’t be around for much longer. He’s actually mo-”

“Mom, please.”

She gave you a look of worry. You were quite stubborn when it came to topics you didn’t like talking about, nonetheless she respected your decision.

It was no secret to her that you liked Felix. She’s known about your attraction to guys ever since you entered middle school, but never once did she judge you for it or shamed you for being the way you were.

You were one of the lucky few that had supportive parents, who still looked and smiled at you the same. You played with a stray string on your sweater, your mind was blank yet racing at the same time.

Tired of sulking and being inside, you put on some tennis shoes and made your way outside. There was a van parked in-front of Felix’s house, boxes littered the nearby ground while his father was talking to the driver.

You thought it was odd.

‘He’s going on vacation this late into the break? Why are they bringing so much stuff along if there’s only a week left?’

Felix’s father spotted you and waved, motioning you to come over to him. You reluctantly made your way over, politely bowing to avoid verbally saying your greeting.

“Hey! We haven’t heard from you the past the week, are you alright?”

“I was sick due to being in the cold for too long.”

He made the typical ‘why would you something like that’ dad head shake.

“That doesn’t sound like you at all, Felix didn’t tell us anything that lame brat. I’m glad you recovered well!”

You bitterly smiled at the old man.

‘So this is really it. It’s over. We’re over.’

“Ah! You must be curious to why we have so many boxes right?”

You nodded.

“Man that brat! Well, to answer your question son, we’re currently finishing up packing our things for the move. Felix got accepted into some music program and it requires us to move across the globe, to be honest with you it was last minute and not well planned out but that’s just life.”

You froze in place, you blankly stared at him. You were waiting for an upcoming joke but it never came.

“Did he really not tell you? I swear that guy-”

“Where is he right now?”

You were frantic and in a state of panic.

“Oh, he’s in his room polishing up anything he-”

You didn’t let him finish, sprinting into Felix’s house running up the stairs, you could feel hot tears pooling in your eyes, your lungs burned. You turned the corner and there was Felix, stacking his boxes and luggage with a sorrowful look on his face.

You stood in the blue hallway.

The hallway that you played in with Felix when you were 7, where you would make paper crowns for him while he would pretend to bake you brownies with brown play-doh.

The hallway you cried in when Felix fell ill with a fever and couldn’t play with you when you were 10.

The same god damn hallway where you fell in love with him when he sang to you on the night you lost your pet dog. He sang so sweetly and soft while the moon shined on him. You truly believed he was some sort of angel that you were destined to meet, an angel whom came to rescue you from anything harmful.

Tears were pouring out the more you thought about the memories you had made with him.

You wouldn’t be able to eat his mom’s cooking anymore.

You could no longer come over after school to bake sweets in the kitchen, lie on the couch watching cartoons while Felix acted out the moves, run your fingers over his freckles while he slept soundly on your legs, and you could no longer hear him whisper sweet nothings into your ear while he held you close.

You let your emotions take over, angrily stomping to his door.

Felix looked up in surprise, dropping the small cardboard box in his hands.

“What are you doing here-”

“Why did you invite me out that day?”

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Answer me.”

You pursued your lips while wiping away your tears.

“I just missed you is all-”

“You knew you were moving that week didn’t you.”

He looked down with guilt.

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you, you just seemed so happy in that moment and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

You scoffed at the blonde, clenching both of your hands.

“So you thought it was a good idea to take me out when your parents were at home packing to travel across the fucking world while I was left to believe I would see you again after break?”

Felix stayed silent, he had no excuse to why he didn’t tell you sooner.

“You don’t care about my feelings Felix. You always do things your way, not once did you ever consider how it would make me feel.”

“I don’t care? For years I was the one who had to sit through all of your sobs storys about all of these stupid guys who treated you like shit, I was the one who ran on my own two fucking feet from our school to this random guy’s house because you were crying. I was the one who missed out on the biggest music event to come take care of you when your shit ex wouldn’t, and you have the audacity to tell me I don’t care?”

“What the hell does that have to do with any of this Felix.”

He looked at you with anger, his fist was balled up to the point his knuckles turned white. He looked away in frustration before heaving a heavy breathe, he sharply turned back to you.

“I’ve liked you ever since we were kids.”

You stood there awestruck.

“What did you just say?”

Felix was practically steaming at this point, his eyes dead set on yours.

“I’ve liked you ever since were kids. How could I not? We were such a good pair together, one thing lead to another and I just caught feelings alright.”

“You’re lying. You’re only saying all of this because you have a guilty conscious.”

It was like you blinked and you were suddenly in Felix’s arms, his chest was pounding loudly and his breathe was wavering. You tried breaking away but he just wouldn’t budge, you looked up at him and did your heart break.

There he was, embracing you like it was the end of the world while tears rolled down his face. You could tell then he was being sincere with his words, but it still didn’t explain anything. You hugged him back and took in his scent, he smelled of tangerine and mint, your favorite scent in the world.

“I can tell you’re being truthful but it still doesn’t explain why you acted the way you did that day if all of what you’re saying is true.”

You guys maintained eye contact until you asked him that, his gaze slowly shifted to the side and he looked almost guilty. His arms turned loose around you, you broke away from him and just stood there patiently for an answer.

“I’m a guy, and you are too.”

“So? What’s wrong with two guys dating?”

Felix turned to you suddenly, his angry expression reappearing.

“Everything about it is wrong. The world was created so guys would be with girls, it’s morally wrong to even think about you in any other way than a brother.”

You didn’t understand where this was all coming from, love is love?

“Felix what are you trying to say?”

He took a deep breathe.

“You’re fucking disgusting for liking guys and I feel sick to even be thinking about you this way.”

Your ears started to ring, and without a second thought you bolted out of his room. Slamming in between the railing and wall, you clumsily ran down the stairs, his father gave you a strange look and called something out to you, but you were too panicked to even register what he said.

‘He hates me. He thinks i’m disgusting, Felix out of all people thinks i’m disgusting.’

You wiped away the tears with your sleeves, but they just continued to roll down your face. You barged through the front door of your house and headed straight to your room, you slammed the wooden door shut and dropped to your knees hyperventilating.

The one person that you loved, the one you shared many memories and laughs with thinks you’re disgusting. You let out screams that you never thought was possible. Memories kept running through your head and it began to throb painfully.

It was a blur from there, you don’t remember much but another week had passed and still no answer.

One early morning, unbeknownst to you, it was the day Felix was leaving. You woke up late that night, your mom gently knocked on your door with a sad smile.

“Hi there sleepyhead, I’m guessing the goodbye made you sleepy.”

You looked at her confused.

“What goodbye?”

She looked at you and her face dropped.

“Oh honey..”

“What is it? Why do you look so concerned?”

She shook her head gently.

“Felix left not too long ago to catch his flight, I thought you happened to meet him before he left.”

Your eyes widened, you rushed to get out of bed, ran pass your mom and out of your house bare-footed. The cold snow stung at your feet but you didn’t care, you stopped in-front of his house. Your breathe heavy, all of the lights were out and the only thing left was the emptiness of it. You let out a shaky breathe before softly speaking.

“You’re not gone, you wouldn’t leave me like that. I know you wouldn’t.”

Tears started to form again, even though you said it, you weren’t so sure yourself. No one answered back for a while, you don’t know how long you stood there, but it was like time froze and all you could do was move your eyes.

“What are you doing here this late, aren’t you cold? Why are you bare-footed?”

That voice. You whipped your head to the person, and there Felix stood with a concerned look on his face. You didn’t think, you just ran to him and hugged him tight like he was going to disappear any minute.

“My mom’s lying right? You’re not really leaving, if you were you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Felix’s scent scorched at your nose, and it made you cry even harder.

He patted your head, and gave your snow-covered hair a kiss, a sigh leaving his lips.

“My parents are currently parked a couple streets down, we forgot some documents to finalize selling the house. After I pick them up, we’re heading straight to the airport. There’s nothing else I can say but I’m sorry.”

You shrunk, and your legs gave out.

“You’re lying. You’re not moving, not after everything we’ve been through. We made a promise remember? Till death do us part, come on Felix I know you wouldn’t abandon me like this.”

It was silent for a while, or a few seconds. Maybe it felt like a while because you knew no matter what you said, time wouldn’t reverse and you were stuck in the present.

Why do good things always end?

His phone started ringing, he picked it up and his facial expression turned grim.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have much time left.”

You tried one final time.

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m sorry, we’ll meet again I promise.”

“How can you guarantee that?”

“I can’t.”

He squeezed you tight against him, brushing your bangs out of your face and planted a kiss on your temple before letting you go, and running into his house, he waved one last time before disappearing into the dark house.

You couldn’t bear to see him leave, so you trudged home. There were no more tears to be shed, you aimlessly walked back into your house and sat on the sofa.

You started to shiver, the cold was finally biting at your skin harshly. Your eyelids felt heavy, after awhile you were soundly asleep. There was a gentle knock at the door, your mother quietly went to open it and there stood Felix holding a pink box.

“He ran away before I could give it to him, do you think you could deliver this to him in the morning?”

He let out a small chuckle and handed your mother the small box before his eyes landed on you fast asleep on the sofa.

“Of course. He’s really going to miss you Felix.”

His chuckle subsided and a sad smile appeared.

“And I’m going to miss him just as much.”

Your mother gave him a pat on his shoulder, tears of her own forming.

“Do you mind if I carry him to bed? He wasn’t wearing any shoes when we met earlier and I’m afraid he might catch a cold again.”

“Oh please do, you know I wouldn’t be able to lift him even if I tried, I’ll go put the box in my room for the time being.”

Felix slowly walked towards you, afraid to wake you from your slumber. Swiftly picking you up without any trouble, he purposely took slow steps so the remaining time he had left with you would last a bit longer.

Disappointedly enough, he was placing you down in your bed in no time.

He kneeled by your bed, examining your face one last time.

“I love you, till we meet again.”

Unknown to him, your mother was well on her way upstairs to give him a parting gift when she saw it.

As she stood by your doorframe silently.

Felix leaned down and gave you a tender kiss.

She darted down the stairs before he caught her, a smile arising on her face.

—

You don’t remember how you got into bed but the next morning, your mother came in with a box. She knew you weren’t in the best mood, so she placed it on the end of your bed.

After a bit, you eventually sat up and spotted the pink box.

With all the strength you had left you stretched forward, grabbed the box and placed it onto your lap. There was a letter, and a stuffed animal, carefully picking up the letter, you opened it and bursted out in tears once more.

“Hey there, I honestly don’t know why I’m writing this, but I can’t leave without telling you. I’m a coward for not being able to say this to you last night when you were with me, but by writing it I hope to get my message across. I’ve been in love with you since we were little kids.

Never once did I have a bad time with you, you were always the star that I aimlessly kept trying to catch when in reality I should’ve realized you were already mine.

At first, I denied that I liked you more than a friend. How could I, a male, love another male romantically? It felt morally wrong, and even now it still does. As time progressed, I slowly started to accept that I saw you more than just my best-friend, I wanted to hold you more intimately and I constantly catched myself staring at your lips. The feeling was foreign and scary, but I knew you liked me back, I’ve known about your feelings these past years but I was ignorant and ignored them for my own sake.

I love you. I hope one day when we meet again, I’ll be able to say it with my chest proudly instead of writing it on this paper. I promise to be a better man when we cross paths again, whether it’s in this lifetime or the next, I’ll finally accept who I am and we’ll be able to be happy together, but for now, this is as much as I can give to you.

I had this bear handmade especially just for you, it has one of my bracelet charms on it. Make sure to not lose it, and to take care good care of the bear. When you get lonely and miss me, I hope you can confide in it about your worries and doubts while I’m gone. I was going to give you this when I went into my house but you were gone once I came out, I hugged it once last time. So when you hold it, it’s like you’ll be holding me.

Funny enough.

As I held the warm bear in my arms.

Strangely, in that moment. . I still felt cold.”

#stray kids #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x stay #straykids felix #straykids fanfic #stray kids x reader #im crying #why is this so sad #why do i do this to myself #torture #stray kidz #felix x reader #skz

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roxys-pizzaplex · 3 years

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Okay! I finally saw Venom 2 ! Normally I don't do this but ima put my thoughts under cut below.

Will tag spoilers as "Venom 2 spoilers" and "Spoilers" (art, other opinions, etc)

Nonspoiler thought; I loved it ! But I have some nitpicks.

Spoilers below

Okay so.. this is gonna be jumbled bc I'm not good at writing my thoughts orderly.

So let's just.. start with my lesser opinions (meaning that these don't need to be changed or anything it was just kind of cheesy )

The constant metaphors and foreshadowing.

Examples:

"There is going to be Carnage" (rlly.. this one should've been expected but w/e)

"LET THERE BE CARNAGE" (o wow u pointed out the name of the movie!!)

Cletus Kasady eating Carnage -> Venom eating Carnage at the end

Cletus Kasady saying something on the lines of "some have different paths" and then a spider shows up -> End Credits

Anne getting married -> Shriek getting Married

I dunno I feel like there was more. I know a lot of people are gonna shout at me "but there's always metaphors and foreshadowing!!!"

Like.. yeah! Absolutely! That's part of what makes a story but I sort of feel like they were all obvious except the spider/end credits one.

It's no big deal to me rlly and I just thought it was.. funny I guess? Probably because I don't usually pay attention enough to see the metaphors and foreshadowing in other films and shows.

Now onto everything else! Mostly gonna talk about Cletus/Carnage because I thought Venom/Eddie was fine and great.

My only problem with Shriek was.. her voice? I dunno maybe that's how the Actress sounds and if it is my apologies but if it's just how she acted or how they wrote her then oof. She just sounded like... she was trying to be too much like Harley Quinn. Otherwise I rlly enjoyed her!

Cletus is still pretty accurate other than the supposed cannibalism and having a southern accent (but like.. that's not something the actor can change n that's fine. ) imo.

Carnage was even fine! He looked great, was pretty and w/e.

My problem is.. Carnage.. the whole deal about her/them is that she and Cletus are also in love and she is soaked in his blood. And that she calls (or I guess Cletus) Venom, Daddy.

The symbiote is actually called Red ! And only together she and Cletus are Carnage. Red eventually bonds so much with Cletus that they just use he/they pronouns basically. But when he talks about her he uses she/her pronouns.

It's been awhile since I've read the comics so I don't remember why Venom and Eddie are whole and considered one while being in love and bonded while Red and Cletus are whole but considered two.

I do remember the fact that Red is so attached to Cletus that she can duplicate herself AND revive Cletus.

I'm not sure if they will do that with these two.. probably not.

However I do wish we had more on Carnage and Cletus (and Shriek) because then I'd be a little more enjoyed by them.

I like this version of Carnage as an AU. His personality is slightly different than his comic counter part ("Father", the tornado thing? And being bigger than Venom. Oh and masculine (pronouns. I probably wouldn't complain about the voice if the pronouns are different)

All I can guess is they didn't wanna confuse people with Cletus being "a man" and his symbiote being "a woman"

Also one more thing;

I dunno if that was supposed to be Toxin or not but I kind of sure as fuck hope it's not. I don't want another rinse and repeat for the third movie. Also that again means Toxin isn't related to Carnage (also how the fuck would that even work? When did Venom or Carnage split to have Toxin? When would Toxin even show up?)

I dunno.

Anyways; short summary; loved it, was gay as it could be, could be gayer, Love Shriek/Cletus, still don't really care about Dan/Anne, Carnage isn't what I hoped for but was alright.

#venom let there be carnage #venom 2 spoilers #Venom 2 #Carnage #cletus kasady #Spoilers

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kabalow · 3 years

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Tagged by: @alwaysraineh (tysm!! 💛💛)

Rules: Answer 30 questions an tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

Name: Lucy. If ya want more than just that uhhhh ask. I also 10000% made a mild pun with my name >:)

Gender: fluid. Lately it's been freezin in girl but today was rather boy y'know?

Star Sign: Aquarius babey

Height: 5'9" (p sure that's like. 175cm)

Time: I forgot to note when I stated buuuut it's 9:19pm rn

Birthday: February 4th of the year 1999. Yeehaw

Favorite bands: ooo uhm I rlly like Ninja Sex Party, Krewella, Paramore, Asian Kung-Fu Generation, ONE OK ROCK an uhhh Imagine Dragons have good stuff

Favorite solo artists: Serj Tankian (stuff is so fun an better than System of a Down to be tbh), Carly Rae Jepsen, Louie Zong, Corpse Husband, Zedd (do they count? I know they're a DJ), Miku

Last movie: Knives Out. Fantastic movie

Last show: RWBY. Only like...my favorite show lol

When did I create this blog: archive says abt March 31, 2015... could've sworn I had this longer

What I post: yeah. I try an do rwby related stuff or whatever I'm interested in

Last thing I googled: Poison Street Fighter

Other blogs: nuh-uh

Do I get asks: not as often as I'd like (please interact with me I'm begging). So no

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

freedom of the press 04 | thomas jefferson

title: freedom of the press

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

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

words: 13.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't change the subject!"

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

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

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

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

Angelica didn't look convinced.

________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded. "I'm forever grateful."

"Grateful enough to go easy on Thomas?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thomas and I look forward to it."

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This seat taken?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N!"

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

"Hey, Dolley, what's up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Some other time, Secretary Jefferson."

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

________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raised his eyebrows. "With murder?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lafayette grinned. "Of course not."

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

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

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

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

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

"Oui? When else?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah." She smiled stiffly.

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

There was a skip, before Lafayette broke the silence.

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

We will talk about this.

___________________

Twitter

@gilafayette started following you.

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

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

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

@BenArnold started following you.

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

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

@JamesMdson retweeted your recent tweet.

New message from @A_Hamilton:

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

@A_Hamilton: i could even write u the questions

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

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

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

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

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

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

@Y/N_L/N: alex.

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

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

@A_Hamilton: YES THATS THE PROBLEM

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

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

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

@A_Hamilton: ur the only reporter that matters ily

✅ Read, 5:27 PM.

@gilafayette wants to send you a message. Accept?

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

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

@gilafayette: i am concerned about him since then

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

Messages to @gilafayette:

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

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

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

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

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

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

@gilafayette: brb

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

Messages to @gilafayette:

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

@gilafayette: but i worry

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

@gilafayette: no

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

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

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

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

@gilafayette: yes you told me to ask

@gilafayette: exactly

@gilafayette: what is the difference?

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

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

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

@gilafayette: wait he has just responded

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

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

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

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

@Y/N_L/N: lafayette i stg

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

✅ Read, 5:49 PM.

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

@Thomas_Jefferson wants to send you a message. Accept?

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

Messages to @Thomas_Jefferson:

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

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

✅ Read, 5:56 PM.

________________

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

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

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

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

Boy, was she wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just tryin' to escape."

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

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

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

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

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

"Now you're just baitin' me."

"Never!"

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

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

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

"Whatcha reading?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I just--"

"I wanted to--"

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

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

"The floor is yours."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait, be reasonable--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if she'd decided to stay?

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

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junestay · 3 years

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Wowowoowowowowoowowow, i love reading your poetry, elek!! Thank you for tagging me!! I just feel like you capture whatever it is I always wish to emulate through my poetry and cant quite figure out how to do that yet, so it's nice reading what you write and im able to find the feeling in other ways- this makes no sense but,,, yeah, its not a feeling of nostalgia, but one of reaching a certain depth of thought and for me i feel like im not there yet, im still at a superficial level of bottling emotions- figuratively- and then releasing them in a specific context 😭😭😭 irllydont knownif this is even comprehensible but, yes

I rlly love that i know exactly what you're describing in ominous, and that's how you know that you're successful in your storytelling/writing

Blue <3

yes that's very comprehensible, that's how i felt with a lot of my earlier lyrics. it's like, i had a vague idea of what i wanted to write about but i didn't give it a character or a conflict, which is something i'm now learning. try making your feelings into a character instead of a blast of feelings. it's easier to release them if their tangible, if that makes sense? i dunno im still figuring a lot out but yess thank you for reading and practice 40 hours a day makes perfect 💪

gahhh that means so much though. seriously. your feedback means the world to me, cause it doesn't feel like im just emptying my thoughts into the void.

you're fantastic. again, thank you so much for reading and giving me feedback. REMEMBER criticism is also welcome now that i'm posting my more recent poetry OTL

#✧ — asks #🦕— blue

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phobiadeficient · 4 years

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It Demo loving hours again✊😔💘. Scout talks like he is the Fuc-king boss, but when he n demo are gonna fuck, he admits hes a total virgin who hadnt even kissed no one yet, n he feels self conscious af and nervous cuz he rlly rlly rlly wants to do it but he dont wanna mess up and make a fool of himself. But Demo is Demo and the fucc is👌👌Oh and he discovers he likes Demo biting n nibling his sensitive spots, such as neck, ears thighs, even his wrists are sensible, and he feels in paradise™💘🐑

(packing the entirety of Expiration Date into a crate and nailing it shut) coming right up my dude

(no warnings)

“Never?”

“Never.”

“...As in never?”

“Fuckin’ never, Cyclops, jeez, how many times do I gotta say it?” Scout blustered, curling up a bit in his embarrassment, starting to pick at some loose stitch of the worn quilt he had as his blanket.

“I... I’m just surprised is all, lad,” Demo admitted, blinking, settling back as he processed the new information. “Thought... the way you tend to talk and all—“

“Fuckin’ duh, if any of the guys knew I was... not, y’know, experienced or whatever, they’d poke fun even more than they already do. I’d get eaten alive out there,” he mumbled, eyes falling.

Demo considered that. To be honest, he’d thought that Scout was probably exaggerating the number of people he tended to sleep with. That was what Scout did with so many other things—he talked a big game and tried to act more confident than he really was in a sort of “fake it ’til you make it” kind of way. That, combined with the way Scout immediately stumbled over his words when asked for any amount of detail, and the way he went red and flustered at the more raunchy jokes Demo and some of the rest of the team tended to make during the rowdier hours of the weekend, made Demo think maybe Scout was all lime, no tequila.

But Scout was also a fairly handsome young man in his prime. He figured at least someone would’ve fallen for that before him.

“Well…” Demo trailed hesitantly when the silence stretched a second too long and Scout started fidgeting. “…what all have you done?”

Scout’s face was going a bit red. He fiddled with his dog tags. “Dated some girls in high school, and, y’know, holding’ hands and bein’ cute and all, I… I’ve gotten little pecks on the cheek or whatever, but, but I barely count that as anything, y’know?”

Demo stared at him. “…Doll, you’re telling me you’d never kissed anyone before me?” he asked, shocked. He ran some mental math, scoured his memory. That meant that Scout had kissed someone four times in his entire life total, including a few moments previously. All chaste and quick and sweet.

Scout hid in his hat.

Demo considered that. “…Why? Why haven’t you?” he asked next.

“I just… I dunno, I, I put way too much stock in that kinda romantic bullshit and I just, I never had the balls to make the first move with anyone, and with kissin’ and—and anything else—I just…” Scout was red up to his ears. “…I wanted it to be special or whatever which is the girliest horseshit—“

Demo cut him off by taking and squeezing his hand, thinking hard on what to say. When he spoke, he worked hard to keep his tone gentle. “…So you want to do all that with me?” he asked, just for clarification.

Scout nodded.

Demo squeezed his hand again, laughing a little. “Well I’d be bloody honored,” he said, flicked the brim of the hat out of Scout’s face to get a look at him, to give him a reassuring smile. “Any idea what you’d…?”

“I… I dunno,” Scout murmured, visibly embarrassed by it, not quite able to hold eye contact. “I… what do people… usually do?”

“Well, you’d bloody, er, start with kissing usually, aye?” Demo suggested, pulling gently on Scout’s hand and guiding him forward, practically into his lap, and let Scout be the one to lean forward and close the distance.

He situated his back comfortably against the wall, and Scout did end up settling into his lap, relaxing slowly but surely over the course of long, unhurried minutes of kissing. Demo largely took control of things—partially because Scout was so nervous about making a fool of himself, he was sure. And he guided Scout through it as gently as he could, coaxed him into opening his mouth—minty, enough that Demo was sure he’d brushed his teeth just before Demo arrived, which was oddly flattering—and into letting Demo play with him. Nipping gently as his lip, making Scout’s breath hitch.

And when Scout had to pull back for air, starting to get overwhelmed, Demo shifted his focus, tilting his head to nip at Scout’s neck, light enough that it surely didn’t hurt in the slightest, just a new sensation that Scout had apparently never tried before. And his breath continued to hitch, and he started choking back little noises as Demo found a nice place further down his neck near his shoulder that would be covered by his uniform shirt and gave him a hickey.

Scout whimpered, and it felt so very incredibly good, the sound washing through him as satisfyingly as a cool breeze on a hot and humid day.

He tried to keep in mind that nobody had ever done these things with Scout before, and tried to show him all sorts of tricks he probably didn’t know. He showed Scout all sorts of sensitive places to kiss and nibble at—his neck, his earlobes, his wrists and the inside of his elbow—and drank in the noises he made, reveled in each reaction and tried to commit them to memory. His kisses were joined soon enough by touches, slipping his hands up beneath Scout’s shirt to meet bare skin, tracing slow lines against the very lean muscle of his lower back and stomach, one questing so far as to reach his chest to tweak at either nipple.

Scout jolted outright, gasped, moaned softly when he did it a second time, and lord, he was gorgeous.

And Tavish DeGroot had not been raised to keep quiet about exactly what he was thinking, so he said so, murmured against his cheek how gorgeous he was, how lovely he looked like this. And Scout practically trembled with it, clinging to Demo’s shoulders, eyes pressed shut tight and face bright red, flustered beyond bravado. And Demo couldn’t help but kiss him again, and again, and Scout kissed back, sloppy and unpracticed but earnest in every way, desperate, and it was as lovely as it was clumsy—more, even.

And when he pulled back he caught Scout by the chin before he could try and hide again, stroking down his hip to grip at his thigh like a promise. And he started to talk—oh, how he started to talk.

“Lovely, doll,” he murmured, eyes lingering on every detail of Scout’s face. “You’re a damn sight, ya ken. Lovely, lovely thing. Like getting pampered a bit, aye? Getting kissed at?”

Scout seemed torn between desperate and nervous, between leaning in and looking away, slightly overwhelmed but needy all the same. “Yeah,�� he admitted anyways.

Demo shifted his hold on Scout’s thigh, thumb migrating nearly to his inseam, pressing gently and making a muscle in Scout’s thigh jump beneath his palm. “Ought to let me make a night of it, one of these days,” he mused, stroking at the underside of Scout’s chin and absorbing the way his lashes fluttered. “Just let me lie you out and kiss you all over. See how flustered I can get you before you beg for more. Won’t take much, I think. Haven’t even gotten your shirt off and you’re practically there.”

Scout’s expression shifted towards embarrassment, and he made an earnest attempt to look away, but Demo stopped him with a deep, long kiss, only pulled back when he’d coaxed out another little whimper.

“And that’s lovely too,” he said, hardly above a whisper, and Scout practically sobbed, leaning in towards him, grip tightening.

“Demo, please, fuck, how long are you gonna tease me?” he asked, distressed.

“You want me to touch you, doll?” he asked, direct and outright.

“Yes, fuck, yes, I want you to fucking touch me, c’mon—“ was as far as Scout could get before Demo had worked the button of his pants open and slipped a hand inside.

“Och,” Demo tutted, even as Scout’s hips jerked. “Look at you, you’re all atwitter.”

It really did surprise him a little how riled up Scout already was, but he reminded himself that he tended to have a considerable impact on people who weren’t virgins, and that it really wasn’t that surprising. And he realized within a moment’s thought that Scout surely wouldn’t last all that long, but that was alright—they’d have time to do more later.

And he was right—he didn’t even properly have time to get Scout’s pants down before his hips were jerking more insistently into Demo’s hand and he was yelping, spilling, throbbing under his palm and making sweet little whimpery noises as he returned to earth.

And then he was hiding, choking out apologies, because fuck, they barely did anything, he hadn’t even gotten to really touch Demo yet, and no time was wasted to start shushing him, showering him in assurances that it was alright, it was fine, he’d have plenty of time to learn, to build up endurance, all of that. They could take things slow. And hey, maybe they could talk more about it in the shower—Scout should really change his pants.

And they did talk in the shower, alongside other things. And Demo looked forward to making good on all his promises.

#//demoscout #//tenderness

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orbitariums · 5 years

Text

you should see yourself* | tom holland + woc / plus sized reader

the asterisk mark signals sexual content! i know i said i wouldn’t post tom smut on this blog but i’ve become super attracted to him lately so. here it is. also, i know that i post rlly cute imagines so this is gonna seem SO out of place but there’s no hiding it!

also, this starts off really cute so if you just wanna read the cute part and no smut honestly go ahead, i’ll warn when it gets smutty.

contains: plus-sized/thick reader, lots of talk about body image and self-worth, dick-riding, blowjob, encouragement, nude-taking, very wholesome and not wholesome all at once. hope you enjoy.

disclaimer: this imagine is not meant to say that you need a skinny white man (whom we love!) to tell u that you're beautiful in order to actually feel/be beautiful! u already are. i just thought the concept was attractive honestly.

Tonight was a low key night at Tom's place. He had rented an expensive penthouse near the area he was filming his new movie and you had tagged along with him, which meant you got to stay with him in his luxury penthouse, watch him film, and be a part of his celebrity lifestyle.

And, being his girlfriend, you were already a part of his celeb lifestyle, reaching low level celebrity status yourself on Instagram, gaining quite a few followers just for being in a relationship with Tom. But here, you got to see what it was really like.

Currently, it was a long day of work and you were finally relaxing with Tom, the both of you exhausted but still somehow awake, keeping each other company. You were both sprawled out in his California king bed, the sheets distraught and pulling in every which way. You were each half covered by the sheets and watching TV on the huge curved TV feet away from you.

Tom was shirtless with his arms sprawled out and a drink pressed to his lips, while you were cuddled into him, your head on his chest and your hands resting on his chest as well. His curls were a mess from filming all day and being out all day but he still looked good.

Next to you on the end table was a box of pizza that only had two slices left, considering the first thing you did when you got home only an hour ago was order a pizza and cuddle in the dark bedroom. The only lights in the room were coming from the glare of the TV screen. Tom spotted you still awake on his chest and hummed, kissing the top of your head and running his fingers through your hair,

"Oh, you're still awake. I thought for sure you'd passed out."

"Nope, still up," you said, blinking tiredly as fuzz was coming up in your eyes.

You wished you could say you were up because you weren't tired, but that was a lie, you both were. Tom was tired from filming and being out all day every day, and you were tired because you insisted on being by his side all day every day and being a supportive girlfriend. You wanted to be with Tom as much as possible, see it through that he was enjoying his career and just be able to experience the magic that was his acting.

But being Tom's girlfriend could be tiring, even if you just wanted to support as much as possible. Even though you had gained a few fans from being Tom's girl, you had also gained a lot more media attention than you had bargained for, and a lot of negativity.

The negativity surrounding you dating Tom wasn't a big deal, you didn't care much about that aspect of it. But you did care about the things people said about your physical appearance - first there were the people who were angry that you were a woman of color dating Tom, deemed unworthy for him simply because of your skin color.

Your friends had all said you were way out of his league and that Tom was lucky to even have the privilege of dating a woman of color, but some people on the internet had very strong opinions against that. Next, was the explicit body shaming you endured.

None of the hate was very terrible on either end but it hurt your heart a little when you posted a picture of yourself in a bathing suit or on the red carpet with Tom in a dress you thought was nice, and saw those blurbs of comments talking about how big your boobs were, the noticeable bit of stomach you had, your thick thighs or your cellulite.

It was embarrassing to have your body nit picked like that, and as much as you tried to tell yourself that none of those comments mattered and that you were beautiful no matter what other people tried to tell you, and that every body was beautiful, you still thought about those things from time to time.

The hate wasn't so excessive that anyone really seemed to notice, even Tom. He of course was too busy commenting heart eye and drooling emojis on every single one of your posts, and he never occupied himself with haters or negative energy, but he still wanted to protect you with every fiber of his being. So it wasn't that he was ignoring the hate or being dismissive of it, it was simply that he was too obsessed with you to even acknowledge that anyone else could hate you.

So, you were up, overthinking, as you sometimes did, all the comments that you got and all the hate messages you received, as few as there were, prowling your mind.

You looked up at him in search for his eyes, but he was distracted by the TV. So you patted his chest, your head still resting down on him and purred his name,

"Tom?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, looking down at you and going back to massaging your head.

You bit down on your lip tentatively, like you were scared of how he might react to what you were going to say,

"How do you deal with all the... the hate comments?"

Tom just smiled lightly and laughed, a bit confused,

"What do you mean, love?"

You shrugged nonchalantly as if none of this related to you, trying to sound as oblivious as possible, as if you were simply curious and not practically asking for advice,

"You know, like, people being mean to you and nasty for no reason? How do you deal with that? Like, getting mean comments or messages."

Tom shrugged too, as if this were no big deal to him,

"I mean, luckily, I don't get a lot of hate. But it definitely happens - every now and then there'll be some rude comment or something that makes me just a teensy bit sad. But then I perk up and remember it's all good. Because I have a beautiful life, with beautiful people around me and that person is probably just lacking beauty in their life, that's why they feel the need to comment mean things."

He could sense how you had paused, a slight tension rising in the air as you just sat there, and he looked down at you again, his strong hand now caressing your arm gently up and down. He could sense you were deep in thought, staring into the dim and darkness and thinking about nothing.

"Why? Something bothering you?" he asked, his tone concerned as he gazed down at you, stroking your arm and nuzzling his chin into the top of your head.

You looked up at him again and couldn't help the pout that had made its way onto your face, frowning,

"People say... mean things under my posts sometimes. Now that we've been out publicly. I didn't say anything to you because I didn't think you noticed and I didn't think it mattered that much, but it's been getting to me. Just a little."

Tom sat up a bit and cradled you in his arms slightly so you were still cuddling with him when he moved, furrowing his brows,

"What? Who's saying stuff? What are they saying?"

If you hadn't been so deep in thought you would've smiled, even laughed, at his sudden posture of concern and how fast he had gone from sleepy and unbothered to alert and concerned. But you were honestly just trying not to cry. It was probably the mixture of hurt from the comments you got and the fact that you were exhausted that was making you feel so emotional all of the sudden, but it was all coming to the surface now.

You had tucked away the feeling each of these hurtful comments gave to you, letting the hurt sit and soak in some locked away place for far too long, with no outlet to let out the way these comments made you feel about yourself. You had even become a bit self conscious in real life, gazing at yourself for longer than usual in the mirror when you were undressing, or wondering how your thighs really looked to other people when you sat down.

You even found yourself self conscious around Tom, even though you knew he loved every part of you for who you were. But sometimes in the bedroom you became careful of how you moved or what angle you were at, and although these moments didn't happen often, the fact that they occurred at all on account of the fact that those comments were stored somewhere in some tiny place in your mind was something to note.

You didn't want it to bother you at all, and you wished you were one of those people who could say it didn't bother you and mean it, but unfortunately you weren't. Still, you didn't want Tom to worry too much, so you just said it nonchalantly, as if it didn't bother you much,

"I dunno. Just random people... sometimes your fans who I guess aren't really your fans. They'll just comment, just... mean stuff."

"What mean stuff, babe?" Tom pried, and you cursed him for being so caring because you really didn't want him to worry so much, but you knew you shouldn't downplay anything or lie to him.

You almost felt like crying and Tom could tell from your very voice that you were holding back tears that had been brewing up inside of you for far too long,

"They just... they say things about us. Saying I don't deserve you because I'm not white, which is like, okay whatever fuck you. But then some people will nitpick and point out things about my body that I never even noticed. I know I'm not like, a fucking skinny Amazonian goddess, but I'm not a monster. Like, I never noticed my cellulite or my rolls or my stretch marks until after that."

You had let a tear shed, but you weren't thinking about Tom anymore, you were just letting your feelings free flow.

"It's like, those type of comments make you take a long, hard look in the mirror and they make me feel like picking at my entire body. It's like, it's not that many comments and I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but it's like the first time since grade school anyone has said anything about my body that has really stuck. You know? It hurts, even though I'm probably one of the most confident people I know."

It didn't even take a beat for Tom to start speaking once you finished. He shook his head slowly over and over and wrapped his arms around you.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Come here, baby," he said.

And with that, he lifted you up gently and placed you over his lap so you weren't cuddling your head into his chest anymore, but you were straddling him, your legs on either side of him. He was making direct eye contact with you even in the dark of the night and the dim lighting of your room. He placed his hands on your arms and was caressing your arms up and down gently.

"You... are beautiful," he said, his face so serious and yet so faithful that you knew he was telling you that you had better believe it.

Your entire body felt warm as he graduated from your arms to your waist, letting his hands run along your sides - you were in just a pair of boy briefs and a sheer blouse you only wore inside. His hands ran along every curve on your side, every part of you that you had been overanalyzing in the mirror due to comments, his hands seeming to possess some type of mending magic that made it okay again. Because he loved it all, and you did too, beneath all the comments that had been bogging you down.

"Yeah?" he said, less of a question than an agreement that he wanted you to acknowledge.

"Yeah," you said meekly, nodding gently, looking down into his eyes.

He positioned himself so he was leaning upright against his pillow and his hands gripped onto your sides so he could hold you in place, and he leaned forward to press soft kisses to your neck,

"Never let anyone tell you or make you think any different, okay?"

"I know, but-"

"Nope, no buts. You are definitely the sexiest woman I've ever laid my eyes on, okay, inside and out. And a lot of people want what you have, that's why they leave those comments. Or they're really sad about their lives, unlike the two of us. Those people that say those silly things like that are crocks of shit, honestly. And I know it's easier said than done, but you can't let that get to you, babe."

You pouted out of happiness, cooing,

"I love you."

"Love you too, darling. I'm serious though, do not ever let a stupid asshole, 'fan' of mine or not, make you feel less than. Hell, it's me who doesn't deserve you. I don't ever want you to look in the mirror and see anything less than what you are, which is a beautiful young lady who deserves the world. You're hardworking, smart, and you know what you want. Not to mention you're so supportive in everything I do, which is so much to ask for. So fuck them," Tom said, closing off beautifully.

Now you wanted to cry, this time for the right reasons. Your bottom lip quivered as you gazed into his eyes, and saw the admiration and want for you in his eyes, and heard the genuine tone behind his words.

"Baby, stop, you're gonna make me cry," you joked, chuckling a little.

"You're gonna make me cry," Tom said back to you, and you laughed at his ever so charming, personable personality. "Come here," he then said, his voice lower and less baby talk like.

"I'm here," you teased, smiling down at him playfully.

"I mean come here," he said, his hands traveling down to your butt as he pulled you closer onto his lap so you were straddling him directly on top of his crotch.

[ okkk folks we are entering smut zone if you do not wish to read the smutty part ]

He was wearing a hoodie and some boxers and you were thinking of how easy it would be to take both those things off of his body. His hands were traveling from your waist to your lower thighs and cupping your ass from time to time, and he was smiling mischievously, that sort of know it all smirk he had appearing on his face.

"Not to be possessive but I like knowing I'm the only guy who sees you like this. I mean really like this. You know how many guys would die to have you on top of them, and it's me who wins the jackpot?" Tom said, his teeth showing in his small smile.

"Oh yeah?" you challenged him playfully, smirking back.

"Hell yeah. Kinda crazy how that works, yeah?"

"Super crazy," you nodded, just giving in to whatever he said and giggling.

Before you knew it he had pressed his lips against yours and he was kissing up against your neck and speaking softly into your ear, already taking off your blouse with swiftness. You bit down on your lip, covering your chest with your arm because it was cold, and smiling cheekily down at him.

"You're so sexy," he said unashamedly, leaning back and surveying your body and how you looked with no top on, now wanting to see how you looked with nothing else on tonight.

You just giggled, used to Tom's comments during your times like this, but now it meant something more and you felt giddy inside. You looked down and started to palm him through his boxers. He was already getting hard but your touch made him grow rock hard beneath your palms, and the friction between the two of you made you both sweat.

You were leaving that girly mode and you both knew what you wanted, it was so clear. Tom's eyes, usually bright and animated, were now hooded and lustful, and you got a sense of excitement that you were the only one who got to see him like this.

You pulled at the collar of his hoodie and cocked your head to the side, surveying him, and asked,

"You want me? Only me?"

Tom nodded ever so seriously and you saw his jaw clench,

"Only you."

"Promise?" you teased him, kissing him right on the lips, a long kiss that would've lasted longer had you not pulled away first.

"Of course," he said, and his voice threatened to crack just because he was so in awe of you and the control you had over him - he didn't understand how anyone could say these things about you.

You slid out of your underwear, Tom's eyes immediately dipping low to the exposed skin, filled with lust and want once more, nearly salivating. He let his fingers drag absentmindedly along your clit, focusing on that one area and listening to your change in breathing patterns - he already knew what you liked but he always listened. He was rough and yet loving, two of his fingers grinding up against your clit in slow circles, making you erratic.

He looked up at you, though you were looking down at his hand, continuing those wicked, slow circles into your clit and in a lower voice than usual he said,

"I want you to ride me." When your only response was a whimper that stemmed from the stimulation he was giving you, he said, "Yeah?"

"Mm hm, I got it."

"And I want you to know you look fucking fantastic taking my dick, okay?" he pushed some of your hair behind your ear. "Really do it, okay?"

"God, yes," he stopped the motions against your clit and slid his hand away, placing his fingers in your mouth for you to suck.

"Good girl. So wet already."

You bucked your hips against his erection in his pants and he understood, sliding his sweats down until his erection sprang out, sitting against his stomach until he wrapped his hand around the base and made you scoot closer. To tease him, you grinded your hips up against the base of his dick, making it wet with your juices. You looked at him, head already hung back in bliss, and licked your upper lip with your tongue. That worked every time.

"Does that feel good, Tommy?" you asked him with a devilish grin on your face, your eyes teasing and inticing in the darkness of the room.

"Yes, baby, feels so good," he groaned, facing you again and watching your hips roll against him, your wet pussy smearing against his lower abdomen.

You took his dick into your hands again and cupped him in your hands, stroking him up and down with both hands closed around him, smirking at him. He was enjoying it, you could tell, his stomach rose and fell faster and he had to clear his throat abruptly. But he stopped you, placing his hands on your waist,

"Stop that, darling, you're gonna make me come already."

You tilted your head innocently,

"But don't you want to?"

He was placing soft kisses against your neck again, and squeezing your ass with his hands as he shook his head and in a low voice said,

"Not if it's not inside you."

You bit down on your lip when he said that and your heart jumped, and now you were bored of teasing him. You positioned yourself above his tip and he kept his hands tight around your waist as you let the head of his dick tease your entrance. You mewled out, your face contorting in pleasure, your mouth dropping open slightly,

"Baby that feels so good," you gasped, still not letting yourself drop all the way down.

Tom pressed his lips against yours and you let his tongue inside your mouth, kissing passionately until you found the sensation of his dick pressing against your flit too strong and had to do something. You dropped your hips down slowly onto him, taking in the whole of his head and the shaft until you dropped fully down onto the base of him.

You had already pulled apart from him in the kiss by the time you started to slide down, desperate moans leaving your lips. Tom on the other hand, has his jaw clenched fully and his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. You sunk down completely onto him and then circled your hips around him so you could feel all of him inside every part of you.

"Baby," you whimpered.

"Mm hm?" Tom answered back, his voice just as soft and weak.

"I can feel all of you inside of me, so fucking deep inside of me," you whined, rolling your hips once again as he hit all your spots.

"Yeah? You like when I fill you up, huh?" he sighed out and brushed some of your hair back, a question to which you had only physical responses as answers.

You licked your lips as you placed your hands down on his chest for support as you lifted yourself up and started to ride him, slowly at first and then picking up speed, your breaths becoming short, high pitched gasps. Tom was filling you so fucking well and at the same time, he felt your wet pussy around him and how warm you felt around him, fitting him like a glove.

Your walls surrounded his length and the feeling of your wet folds slicking against him, increasing lubrication made him cry out. He felt like he had something stuck in his throat as he kept swallowing, but he couldn't help but let a few deep groans escape his lips.

You felt his hands all over you, every part of you, touching and kissing and caressing your body as if to remind you how beautiful it all was and how much he enjoyed seeing it, especially like this. At one point he had his eyes shut closed, hand covering his forehead and temples and his mouth open, just moaning and grunting.

"Fuck, babe," he groaned out, breathing out unsteadily from his nose and

"I'm close, baby," you panted, practically digging your nails into his shoulders.

"Come for me, YN," Tom said, biting down on his lips. You started to slow your movements, going from bouncing on his dick when you came up to the top and then slowly grinding your hips forward once you sunk down onto him, a move that made him moan out and jerk his hips forward into you. "Fucking hell," he moaned out, closing his eyes once again. "Christ, YN," he chuckled out.

"This gets you every single time," you said, having to hold back a moan to laugh.

He laughed a bit,

"I'm a simple man."

But just a few moments later your casual talk became full of filth and praise yet again, Tom staying true to the purpose of you riding him and encouraging you to come. He didn't just start sex with you just to start it, he wanted to see you in your confident space again and when you were riding him, you were incredibly confident and comfortable.

You looked like a goddess on top of him and he wanted you to see that, wanted you to remember that no one else's opinion mattered. He liked the feeling of being dominated by you, and what better way to dominate than to be on top?

He started to praise you, his words filthy and somehow wholesome at the same time, making you want him to pound into you as you increased your speed as he spoke, slamming down onto him and putting you both into an ecstatic state.

"That's it babe, there you go darling," he said, smiling and smirking up at you, his eyes unashamedly focused on your breasts bouncing up and down each time you took him all in and then came up again. "You've always been incredibly good at this, YN, you know that?"

"Yeah? How long have we been dating again?" you giggled.

"Just over a year," Tom smirked. "And you always look so good taking all of me, don't you?"

You just whimpered in response, overwhelmed by his words and the feeling of him inside of you, your head rolling back and hair hanging behind your head.

"Yeah," Tom bit his lip with a mischievous smile and kept talking you up. "You look so beautiful doing something so filthy. You're so gorgeous, everything about you is, inside and out. Don't forget that."

"Tom," you moaned out his name, and he cocked his head, his hands now rubbing on your thighs and waist, holding onto you tight,

"Yes, love?"

"Don't stop, I'm gonna come," you moaned out, feeling the build up in your stomach and needing that final release to let it all go.

Tom inched his hand forward and started to rub slow circles on your clit, heightening every sensation you were feeling and making your stomach lurch with a feeling of euphoria. He was focused on his hand for a moment, but then looked up at you, his eyes deep and genuine but a small smirk on his face. It didn't even sound like him for a moment, when he casually noted,

"You should see yourself from this angle."

At that, you nearly made a full stop because of the earth-shattering orgasm you were experiencing, letting go everything that had been built up. You couldn't hear for a second, but from the look on Tom's face, your orgasm and clenching around him as you came continuously led him to his own orgasm. You were breathing hard and fast, feeling his hot pumps of cum spilling into you and dripping out of you at once.

You were already about to come, but it seemed like those words got you to that point. You had heard Tom say so many beautiful things to you, both in the bedroom and outside the bedroom, about you as a person, how much he liked your body, but he hadn't said anything quite like that before. It was something he noted so casually as if he were just making conversation but it drove you into a frenzy that made you practically short circuit. He had spun you into a web of wonders that you had never been in before, and his words were plastered in your mind.

To think that Tom liked to see you in such an unbridled state, hair messy, every bit of your body, every "flaw", nook and cranny visible to him - all your stretch marks, cellulite, fat, discoloration, everything that people took the time out of their day to make hateful comments about. To think that anyone could love all of it regardless of your own self doubts. You felt incredibly appreciated and flattered, as if this was his first time complimenting you.

He'd never said anything quite like that before, not in that voice, not with that satisfied, in awe look on his face. He was in awe of you, his eyes said that he thought you were an absolute angel. He wanted you to realize you were perfect in every way, that all your growth didn't have to do with your physical form but the even better person you became.

You had both slowed a while ago, and now you were just cockwarming him, your hips sunk down entirely on him. You were still throbbing from your orgasm and you could feel him pulsing inside of you. Tiredly, he murmured,

"Baby, get up. I wanna see what a mess we made."

Slowly, whimpering all the same, you slid up off his dick and let his cum spill out of you and onto his abdomen. Your clit was throbbing at the sight and you just wanted to lick him clean, even with how tired you were. And so you did, and he was moaning doggedly and maneuvering your head gently with his hand as you sucked him clean of your taste, and then shared a full lipped kiss with him that lasted for quite some time in the darkness.

You were still in a disarray but your thoughts were coming together, slowly now. You were entirely naked and you lay there resting for a moment, but Tom stayed up next to you with his arm around you because you murmured how you "still wanted to talk" after you got a nap.

After a few minutes you woke up, and feeling confident, you didn't feel the need to cover up. You let Tom clean you up with a cloth and put new underwear on, then curled right up into his lap. He had wiped the sweat off his forehead and body and was wearing boxers now, and you sat down on his lap, straddling his abdomen.

"I love you," Tom said, kissing your forehead. "So much."

"I love you too, Tommy," you smiled and kissed his lips shortly. "I'm so glad I have you."

"Me too, darling," he snuggled his nose against yours. He was holding your hands and playing with his fingers when he said. "Babe?"

"Yeah?" you brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it.

"You came so hard, like, I've never felt you come that hard before."

"Really?" you smirked. "You know, it was all you. When you said that... I kind of lost it."

"Said what?" Tom chuckled. "I've got short term memory after that incredible experience."

You giggled and bit down on your lip,

"You said (you impersonated his accent), 'you should see yourself from this angle.' You know, you've never said anything quite like that to me. Sure, you've said a lot of hot things but this was something different. I think I short-circuited."

"Really? You liked that that much?" Tom asked slyly, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. "Maybe I should do it more often then," he said, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling down slowly, his voice muffled.

You laughed and pulled away,

"I'm definitely inviting you to. And hey... thanks. For what you said, just, everything you said. I needed it."

"No, you don't need me to tell you that you're beautiful. You already know that, sometimes people just get into our heads. But we're not going to let that happen anymore, right?"

"Hell no. Fuck em."

"Fuck em," Tom said. He seemed to get an idea as he cocked his head. "In fact..." he grabbed his phone next to him. "I'm going to post a picture of you right now. From this very magnificent angle."

You giggled,

"Tom. I'm naked. And it's dark."

"Yeah but iPhones have got flash for a reason. And you can cover yourself with your arm. Or I can just take a picture of you and not post it. Or nothing at all. It's your body," Tom said, shrugging, but the way he was acting, how badly you could tell he wanted this photo of you at this angle for safe keeping was a turn on and you appreciated the gesture so much.

You laughed,

"Okay, I'll let you post it. But isn't this a bit scandalous for your Instagram followers? And Marvel?"

Tom shrugged,

"If they can hate on you they can see you on top of me, I think."

You snorted and posed for the picture, just a simple sly smile to the camera with your hands covering your breasts, a picture Tom snapped of you from the waist up.

"Now that's photography," Tom said, and he uploaded it to Instagram with the caption "my girl ♡" and watched the internet grow in flames in the span of ten minutes.

You spent the rest of the night cuddling and sleeping in each others arms, and from then on, no amount of hate comments could ever put you down.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #marvel #smut #woc!reader

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