#i think i was in a slump this past few weeks and i didnt even notice

[rafasbiscuits]

Rafa Nadal being the torch bearer woke me up from a sleep I didn't even know I was in.

[mntalbrakdown]

thinkin' bout you - H. Callahan

masterlist!

mentons of: smut, MDNI, makeouts, cussing, closeted, cheating, thigh riding, oral (r! receiving) exhibitionism, slight nudes sending idk,,,?

synopsis: you were dating a football player, but also sneaking around with Hazel

wc: 3.7k

gif by @taiturner

friday night lights, a total shit show. the girls on the cheer team didn't know how to follow the choreography of the cheers and they just do whatever they want. almost like everyone else. you on the other hand just gave up and stand there smacking your pom poms together and muttering the chants.

"are you excited about today" Isabel asks you with Josie's arm wrapped around her

"yeah" you say with a weak smile.

your boyfriend, Brody or whatever his name is, you really didnt care about him, was sitting right next to you. he was in football in whatever position, you never kept up with him. you just dated him because Brittany and Isabel wanted you to.

"hey babe want to go to get food before then game" your boyfriend asks twirling a strand of your hair in between his fingers

"i would love to, but um I have plans" you say looking directly at Hazel. she was playing around with the schools pasta, scared of the bad food. she had on her brown sweater with green pants and her red doc martens paired with her silver chain that always made you go feral

in all honesty, you have been secretly hooking up with Hazel, for the past few months. you hated it because you truly did like Hazel. yet you felt that you had to hide that side of yourself. but you decided by the end of this week you would break up with Brody.

—-

when the bell rang signifying lunch was over you got up from the table that contained all your friends or as your boyfriend called them the loser lesbians. you waved at them goodbye and stared long on Hazel. Brody wrapped his arm around your shoulder that was wearing his letterman jacket, with your oversized black pants and a white simple baby tee. as you walked down the halls you met eyes with Hazel, you smiled at her while she rolled her eyes

it was all in slow motion. she looked mad, but she never told you anything or showed any annoyance all week. you were confused, what did you do? you just saw her be happy. now you were worried. who was she walking with? it was a pretty girl who was giggling and all over Hazel, why were you so... so annoyed? you knew you had no place in doing so

"i think im going to walk to class alone" you say looking up to your boyfriend

"what why" he says stopping in the middle of his tracks

"feeling sick, dont want to get you sick when the game is in four hours you say walking away while you put your headphones on. you needed to escape this place and start letting yourself relax

you walked past everyone down the halls, you usually are so chipper and say hi to your mutuals but today you felt like putting on a hoodie and hiding. people could tell something was up, this wasn't like you. even when you get into an argument with Brody you could practically jump off the walls. this time you felt a stream of tears go down your face. you got yourself together from your five-second slump because crying in front of people is so…yuck!

so you walked into Mr. G's class head held high and when you reached your desk next to Hazel you slumped down like usual.

"so how is Brody" Hazel asks nonchalantly to you as everyone waited for the bell to ring

"he's good, were good" you say looking directly at Hazel trying to see if she was playing a game with you

"cool because I might start seeing this girl, she's available and likes me" Hazel could basically hear the breaks and cracks of your teeth by how tense you were

"I'm happy for you haze, hope she treats you right," you say as calmly as possible

"so...you're ok with it" she asks, but lets be honest she cannot take hints nor sarcasm

"yeah" you say nodding and taking out your notebook from your backpack

---

after class ended and you kept passing looks at Hazel with the ends of your mouth turned downwards.you couldn't actually believe it, but you couldn't hold a grudge. you got up quickly packing all your stuff and getting ready to leave school since that was your last class. you had plans on hanging out with Hazel, but those plans quickly crumbled to the ground

you practically ran out of there not wanting to be held up. Josie and Pj snickering about how you've been acting weirder after lunch. you could hear fast footsteps come closer to you until they finally reached you.

"wait up" they pull your arm to meet your face

"hey!" you exclaim, you just wanted to make it to your car

"what's wrong" Hazel says guiding your face to her, her eyebrows knitting togetehr when she sees you look upset

"nothing it's stupid" Hazel quickly shook her head, how could she be so tender when you're such a brat

"is it about me and her” Hazel asks seeing how your demeanor changed in a heartbeat just thinking about the other girl

“no” you say but she knew you were lying by the way you looked down

“was i just supposed to wait for you to break up with your stupid boyfriend” Hazel slightly raises her voice

“no, but i told you i was going to break up with him by the end of the week” you say pressing your lips together in anger

“than do it, i’ve been all over you for the past few months, and it certainly didnt look like you were, i mean the jacket?” Hazel clenches her jaw trying her best not to get her anger to overflow

“can we please leave” you whisper, you could feel people stare and overhear you in the crowded halls

which Hazel obliges and grabs your hand to lead you to her parked car. she had a Tesla, I mean she was rich what did you expect. she claimed her mom passed it down to her when her mom got a Mercedes as if it’s something everyone does.

she opened the door for you to get in the passenger seat. when you were fully seats and deep breathing to calm yourself down you hear Hazel open the driver door and sit down

“i’m sorry, it’s not fair” you say looking at how Hazels pupils dilated to how soft you became

“it’s ok, i just, want you” Hazel says smiling showing her pearly whites

“ok alpha male” you joke causing the tension to rise and disappear

you caught eyes with Hazel when you finally stopped laughing. and whatever energy you once had converted to lust. you stopped moving and slowly leaned into Hazel to kiss. the kiss was deep and passionate. Hazel slowly pulled your hair to get you to moan so she could slip her tongue. the fight for dominance was strong. so much so that when you pulled away to catch your breath a string of saliva stretched from both of your mouths.

“god i missed this” Hazel said cupping your cheek with her left hand, to be frank it was only a week since your last hookup but time it time and you yearned for her

“i missed you” you say going to quickly kiss hazel as she went over the center console to your seat

she made your seat go all the way back and reclined it so you were laying down as she was in between your legs. she was so eager to take your pants off when you try to push her away

“woah, we’re still at school we can’t do this” you say seeing all the kids walk to their car

“relax my windows are tinted, like illegally, you can’t see in” she says as she shimmied your pants off seeing how you easily relaxed

“Haze” you say as she threw your pants to the back seat

“yeah pretty” she asks looking at you with lustful eyes

“yeah? going to make you scream so loud that your voice goes raspy for a few days” Hazel says quickly kissing the top of your forehead as she goes to kneel back down to your core

“nothing, just missed this” you say as she quickly came up to kiss you

she does back down to your thong covered core that was already soaked. “this for me” she says making you lightly slap her face in embarrassment “it’s hot” she praises

she continued to play and tease you. she slightly moved your panties to the side to just take a quick peak. she than quickly slid the thin cloth down your legs and tucked it in her pants

“Haze you can’t keep those” you say reaching down to try to snatch them back

“i’ll give them back when you break up with him” she says with a bitterful mouth

she than goes to lick a strip of your core. making you arch your back from the seat. than she went in a swing time, sucking for longer and playing with your clit with her tongue.

“Fuck Haze just like that” you squirm in your seat

she continued her attack. kissing and sucking your cunt with her mouth. she was practically making out with it. from time to time she would look up from between your legs and see your scrunched up face and hands pulling her hair.

“god you look beautiful like this” she says moving from your core to the inner thigh and lightly biting it

“haze, god you’re so good” you praise her because of how good she’s making you feel

her calloused hands always feel so nice on you. you love the contrast between your soft skin and her rough. partly because you knew she had ragged skin because of the fight club that made you two meet.

Hazel runs her large hands along your thighs as she pulls away from you to kiss the inside of your thighs leaving love marks to mark you as hers.

“You always look so pretty.” She gives you a lopsided smile, giving you a boost of confidence so you could reach your climax

Hazel's big blue eyes glimmer and sparkle in the dim light, showcasing adoration and lust. She always wonders how you’re so fucking perfect. How she found the most beautiful person to walk this planet. She honestly questions how she even managed to pull you, let alone keep you. aside from having to share with Brody. She takes her bottom lip into her teeth, her eyes wondering over your body.

You both share intense eye contact, Hazel staring at you intently as she feels the need to press a kiss to your soft, full lips. You widely smile at her before leaning in, as she does the same. However, you slightly turn your head to the right forcing her to kiss your cheek instead, which makes you giggle at your childish antics.

You pull back only to see a frustrated Hazel, seeing her eyes darken. She shakes her head as she speaks, “you think you’re so fuckin’ funny, huh?” She questions, first Brody, now this?

You nod your head several times, finding it all amusing before bringing your hand up to her face to push a loose strand of dark brunette hair behind her ear.

She pulls you closer to her, her lips barely brushing against yours before she starts dragging them over your cheek, moving towards your ear.

She presses a soft kiss onto your jaw, slowly lining more closer to your chin before she moves to the other side of your face, taking her sweet time with you.

Hazel then removes her hand, cupping your jaw, moving her lips down to your neck. As she presses butterfly kisses onto your skin. She manages to suck on you harder in certain areas causing delicate moans to slip past your lips.

Hazel loves marking you up, she enjoys the thought of everyone knowing you’re hers and only hers. She thrives on the idea of everyone knowing her lips are the ones running along your skin, claiming you and taking you as hers to keep. But for a while you didn't allow her because of the relationship. Something about her just made you melt and not even care.

You can feel your cunt getting damper with the arousal that drips from your pussy the more Hazl sucks into your skin. You just barely grind your hips into hers which ends up getting you a groan of approval from her.

“You like denying my kisses?” She questions, placing one last kiss on you before pulling back, desire and lust looming in her eyes.

This time, you shake your head, “no, ‘m sorry.” You mumble, letting a soft cry out as Hazel fingers dig into one of your hips, surely leaving bruises in their wake.

The one hand that she is using to cup your jaw pulls your chin down towards her, her lips hovering over yours. “Sorry, hm?” Her soft puffs brush along your top lip as she looks into your eyes, tension consuming the entirety of the car.

She guides your face with her large hand seconds later, pulling you in so her plump lips meet yours. The kiss starts off softer, both of your mouths moving in sync as they perfectly mold together. Hazel's tongue quickly swipes over your bottom lip, asking permission for entrance as she always does.

You immediately grant her access as you open your mouth more, her pink muscle easily slipping through to meet yours. The kiss begins to pick up as your tongues swirl together in harmony, Hazel completely dominating the kiss.

Your hands find their way around to the back of her head, your fingers threading her thick hair through them as you slightly tug on it.

Hazel slightly moans into the kiss as she bucks her hips up into you. Her simple action bumps into your open swollen pussy, which sends a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You pull back to speak, “please.” You mutter, before pushing your lips back against Hazel.

The kiss has now done a complete 180, it slowly dwindling, falling apart as it becomes more messy and sloppy. You find it hard to keep up with the movement the more you grind yourself on Hazel.

“What do you want?” Hazel questions, mumbling into this kiss. As she does so, her hands find the inside of your thighs

You whine in desperation, but also annoyance because you know she already knows what you want. She litters multiple kisses along your cheek and jaw as she waits for you to speak.

“Be a big girl and use your words.” She demands, using her hands to tug at the hem of your shirt, asking if she’s allowed to take it off.

You immediately nod, not wasting any time as you help her pull the thin material off of yourself.

As soon as the shirt falls to the ground beside your pants your nipples harden at the cool air brushing past you, sending shivers down your spine. Hazel's eyes find your bare chest, her eyes raking your entire body up and down. Fuck, how she loves your body and everything about it. the freckles and moles that are now exposed and the soon-to-be bruises sprinkled on like salt and pepper.

A small smirk is brought to her lips as she leans forward a bit, “fuckin’ perfect.” Her pupils seem to be further dilated, her beautiful blue eyes casted over by lust.

Her needy hands grab at your tits before she takes one of your nipples in between her lips. She sucks on you softly, emitting a moan from your mouth as you throw your head back in pleasure. She grazes her teeth against you, pulling at you a bit, letting you go with a ‘pop’ before moving to the other.

Her fingers circle her salvia around your nipple, rolling it in between her fingers as she licks and sucks at the other, her hand gently massaging the tit her mouth is focusing on. The need that Hazel has to make you feel good takes over her entire brain, it’s all she can think about day in and day out. The idea of seeing you a breathless and moaning mess due to the reasons of her hands leaves her enthused, hungry for more.

This time she bites into you a bit harsher before pulling back, “answer me.” Her eyes peering up at you through her long, thick eyelashes.

“I want you” You whisper, your cheeks warm as you feel empowered under her burning gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod eagerly, dragging your fingertips over her shoulders, then next her collarbones.

“I want you to use me, ride my thigh, and cum all over me.” She whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth before she leans back.

You bite into your bottom lip, trying to conceal the smile that threatens to take over your face. You begin to move to be on top of Hazel's clothed thigh, gently rocking your hips on top of her thigh, your clit feeling pressure from Hazel's muscled leg.

She pushes herself further into the chair you both are sitting on, man spreading as she props her elbows up on the sides of the car, watching you intently.

Hazel looks at you as if you’re the best thing to roam these lands, like you were an angel brought down to earth, carved and chiseled from the gods above. She worships the fucking ground you walk on like nobody else. She’s obsessed with you, even more so when she has this pretty little sight in front of her. She's practically drooling over you, and you're still focused on that bonehead who wouldn't even make you moan half the time compared to her.

With her low, hooded eyes staring at you, you feel a bit nervous but you also feel confident and content. You always feel comfortable around Hazel, there’s never a time you haven’t. Not even thinking about the possibility of people seeing you at this instance.

You try to suppress your moans as you slowly pick up your pace, bending over a bit to grab onto Hazel's broad shoulders in order to keep your balance.

Hazel brings one of her hands to your thighs before sliding it closer to your ass. She first gropes at your soft skin, then harshly leaves a slap causing you to yelp out. Feeling the cold metal of her silver-adorned hand.

You both let out a moan, “fuck, angel, you’re soaking.” She states, her eyes watching the way your hot, wet cunt runs so smoothly along her thigh.

“Feels s’good.” You vocalize, your hands moving up to your tits as you play with them in front of her, sensually moving your hips back in forth in a way that makes Hazel go feral.

She shakes her head with a smirk, “my pretty girl putting on a little show for me?” She questions, trying her best to keep her hands to herself, although she’s finding it almost impossible as she continues to yearn for the feeling of your skin under hers.

Hazel's eyes continuously fluctuate in between your own, your tits, and your pussy using her to get off. Her own arousal beginning to dampen her boxers. Just watching you could cause Hazel to completely fall apart.

After a while of her letting you do your thing, allowing yourself to build up an orgasm, that fiery feeling burning deep in the pit of your stomach, just on the brink of falling over, you find yourself losing your pace.

“F-Fuck, Hazel. I’m gonna cum.” You whine, desperately chasing after your orgasm as you use Hazel for your own personal high.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna make a mess all over me?” She tilts her head, running her tongue along her cheek as she watches you begin to experience your orgasm, you simply nodding your head in response. "Fuck I bet Brody doesn't make you scream this loud"

Hazel moves one of her hands, pressing a thumb closer to the top of your clit for more stimulation. You let out a loud moan, searching your brain for words to help you process the pleasure radiating through your body.

“You like that?” She questions, already knowing the answer, cockiness swarming her attitude.

You can only let out a string of whines and whimpers, any words only coming out as a stammer. You slowly fall apart in front of her, your body getting weaker the faster she moves her finger against you.

“Listen to yourself whimper.” Hazel grins, “its fucking pathetic.” The blue eyed girl whispers, although she knows you could do anything to her and she’d melt in your hands.

“P-Please.” You meekly whine, continuing to move your hips back and forth on top of her. slowly leaning your exposed chest to your clothed one.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me.” Her soft voice guides you, finally pushing you over as your orgasm crashes into you.

It takes over every one of your senses and washes over you like a tsunami, crashing into you hard. Your vision turns white as your body spasms on top of Hazel, your cum rolling down her thigh as you make a complete mess on her.

“Fuck, sweet girl.” She groans, finally pulling her hand back as she stares at your arousal coating her thigh.

You let out breath, your body relaxing into hers, a layer of sweat sticking to your skin. You look down yourself, feeling a bit embarrassed as the orgasm fades away.

Hazel can sense that as she lifts your chin, forcing you to look at her, a reassuring look lingering in her eyes. She never wants you to be ashamed, she wants you to feel good. Always.

"that was hot" you say tucking your bottom lip between your top lip. Hazel eagerly grabs your phone to take a picture of the two of you fucked out, your bare shoulders exposed, and your messy tangled hair. quickly sending it to Brody

"Whoops my finger slipped," Hazel says earning a punch and a giggle from you

you quickly get a message from PJ and Josie of a picture of Hazel's car from the outside showing the steamy windows, paired with a message woah hazel gets action?

which made Hazel laugh and take a picture of the car from the inside of you and her kissing accompanied with her action ;p which made the phone actually overheat by the mass amount of messages from both parties. at one point you could hear the screams and jumps from outside the car

---

Hazel Callahan x reader (pretty sure if i don't add that it won't pop up on the tag :c)

taglist: @shaddyluvs @why-cant-we-all-get-along

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ARI MLL IM SO SORRY THAT THIS IS SENT OUT SO LATE HSJSJS. I FEEL SO BAD FOR NOT REPLYING EARLIER 😭 it was assessment week and istg everyday was just filled with assignments/exams/pracs etc. i just wanna go back to high school already!! i’m not mentally prepared for this ☹️☹️

UR SO REAL ABT THE JJK DILFS THO. like they’ve raised my standards up for men so high haksjsj. i so badly want, no, NEED a college bf! geto in my life to make my very own uni life a lil more bearable. HES SO BF CODED OMG 😻 okok but hear me out. geto playing guitar?? i repeat. GETO PLAYING GUITAR??? more specifically ELECTRIC GUITAR PHEWWW. i’m sorry it’s been plaguing my mind for the past few days but i so believe that geto can play guitar w ease. hsjsjsj guitarist! geto has me melting icl 😭✋ with his piercings nd tattoos nd the reading glasses he wears at home hshshshs. its not a want, it’s a need 😔

AHHH UR SO RIGHT ABT STEM GIRLIES AND LIBERAL ARTS GIRLIES HOLDING HANDS HSJJSJ. us stem girlies have sm respect for you guys 🙇‍♀️ from what i’ve heard, lit is a pretty tough major (i took lit as an atar subject back in hs and i FAILED LMAOO). plus lit girlies are so knowledgeable it js blows my mind away. like give me ur brain please 🙏

i’ve tried getting out of my reading slump (WE��RE GETTING THERE WOOHOO!!) like i’ve recently started little woman by louis may alcott (a classic ik idk why i’m even referencing it shshs) and so far it’s pretty good! sometimes the dialogue throws me off a little since it was written so long ago and my mind just goes blank as soon as i read anything that’s not modern day english (i’m talking anything published before the 2000s 😭). i watched the movie a while ago so i’m kinda excited to see if there’s any major differences between the books and the movies. apparently there are a few but i didnt listen in further bc i didn’t wanna spoil myself hahah. welp ig i’ll k when i commit to actually finishing the book.

i haven’t heard abt the travelling cat chronicles yet but i’ll sure be adding it to my tbr 🫡 I LOVE LOVE LOVE CATS SMMM!! ive always just preferred cats more than dogs idkk. speaking abt cats, i have two ragdoll cats hsjsjs. funnily enough, someone pointed out that they somewhat remind them of gojo 😹😹 whelp i fear that i might as well grow up to be an old cat lady hsjsj. not that i’m complaining tho 🤭 really out of the blue question but dy have any pets? 👀 i’m just curious hahah.

also thank u so so so much for the advice ari! i’ll definitely be checking out the summaries + quotes for any future books i wanna read. and nooo ur not incompetent at all, don’t worry!! and thank u sm for being so supportive bby i have sm love for you 💗 AND YEAH I AGREE, READING IS SM FUN WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING FORCED INTO IT.

and aww the tags were absolutely no problem at all! ur geto drabble was written SO WELL. like ari bby you are so talented and i cannot emphasise that enough. you have a way with words and it’s so admirable!! ++ you nailed geto’s characterisation so well, i was genuinely in awe while reading it. ahhh i still think abt it even to this day!! cult leader geto plagues my mind once a week istg. SAME W HIM AND HIS DYNAMIC W SATORU. like hello?? every time i hear abt satosugu i wanna BAWL MY EYES OUT. they’re soulmates (both platonically and somewhat romantically?? idk if you can have both hahah). but omigosh they’re so tragic shskajsjs. brb i’m not crying, i’m chopping up onions!! !! !! 😃

OMG THAT RESEMBLANCE BETWEEN GOJO AND RHE KITTY CAT OMFDDHDH. someone tell me they’re twins and i’ll believe every. single. word. thank u sm for the treat ari, i hope ur day/night is going well!! i’m so sorry that this is long overdue but i genuinely LOVE talking to you bby <333 remember to take care of urself too! ilysm 💞🥹

p.s hes so fine i swearrrr 😍 i saw this on twitter and it’s been my roman empire ever since

UKIIIII MY BELOVED PLS FORGIVE ME FOR THE WAIT 😔😔😔 i’m finally here !!!!!!

first of alllll i hope your studies n work have gone well!!!!!! 🥺🥺 you know i’m always cheering you on hehe. i just have a month left n then i’m free but i’m not sure how it is for you :’3 i hope you’ll get to rest properly soon!!!!

ANDDDDDDDD GUITARIST!SUGU. GOOD GOD 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 your hcs of him made me LOSE it i hope you know that…… he’s literally so bf…… PLSSS PIERCINGS AND TATTOOS AND READING GLASSES ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 OUGHHH UKI I NEED HIM SO BAD….. he would strum his pretty guitar for you on nights you couldn’t sleep 🥺🥺 i just know he would!!!!! he’s such a loverboy…..

LIBERAL ARTS GIRLIES 🤝 STEM GIRLIES FR….. from my perspective stem subjects are a LOT more difficult i rlly can’t overstate how impressed i am by how much you guys study …… 😭😭 i’ve heard . horror stories abt it LMAO…..

AND THE BOOKSSSSS i’m so proud of you for trying to get out of your reading slump uki!!!!!! i actually haven’t read little women yet hehe, pls tell me if it ends up being good!!!!! i’ve heard great things abt it….. AND AND ANDDD i get you!!!! i think it’s important to pick books that are written in ways that you like!!! it’s easy to think that older books are like . harder to read and relate to but that’s usually more bc of the author than the time period!!! i prefer mine to be from around the 1800s-1900s and they aren’t difficult to understand at all!! some classics are super hard to get into bc of how just. Heavy they are writing wise (side eyeing shakespeare n dostoevsky rn) but others aren’t!!! one classic i absolutely adore is the stranger by albert camus, idk if you’re interested in existentialism but!!! the writing is very pretty :3

anyway anyway…. FELLOW CAT PERSONNNN i knew i could trust you!!!! and you have ragdolls!!! 🥺🥺 my current housemate has four of them LMAO and they all look like gojo ngl …. act like him too……. this little guy just follows me around n sleeps in my lap and yaps <33333

BUT YES i think you’d really love the travelling cat chronicles!!!! i read it so quickly bc it’s just. so lovely!!!! and pretty!!!!! and cute n sweet :(((( i love it lots!!!!! but it made me sob so much… so pls make sure you have tissues close by if you read it……

ANDDDD again 🥺🥺🥺 thank you sooooo much for being so sweet …. you rlly are too kind!!!!! i’m so happy you like my geto, i loveloveloveee yours too <33333 AND . YES. i cry over stsg all the time too…. sniffle……. they’re soulmates both platonically and romantically imo :’3 they just . belong together no matter what!!!!!! wish they weren’t so doomed by the narrative tho…..

THANK YOU SO MUCHHH FOR CHATTING W ME SWEETIE <33333 i hope you’re doing soso well!!!!! and i rlly am sorry abt how long you’ve had to wait for this response 😭😭 my brain has Not been braining correctly recently. but i adore you sb 🥺

[1-tehe-1]

hey so i know this is very much a kind of weird and random thing to get and it isnt really even an 'ask" per say but like okay ive been in a sort of depressive slump the past few weeks (it waxes and wanes) but ur post abt liek finally having a productive day and how it made you feel good showed up on my dash a little while ago and it somehow liek possessed my soul and i finally cleaned up my own room and moved my bed and reorganized some things for the first time in almost two months and i kinda feel liek im shedding off some of that rust thats been building up for awhile, and i'm very much word vomiting now but basically I felt like telling u abt it and saying thank u bc i didnt think it was gonna happen today but it did and im kind of proud of that too now so ye thanks :)

I don't know how to describe how happy this makes me- I'm so happy that my post even slightly motivated you! I'm so proud you did that! I understand how hard that is- and honestly I've been feeling way better to come home to my clean room- I know it's only been a day but it has raised my mood and I've been telling all my friends about it. It's definitely an accomplishment to finally clean your space after months of feeling horrible and I'm glad I helped you feel like that :]]]

[zoldyckh]

死

[myriadimagines]

Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Amy Santiago

Warnings: theft, threats of violence

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case.

Part One: Chips and Orange Soda

Word Count: 2,319

A/N: the second part to my submission for @locke-writes​​‘ writing challenge!! admittedly it gets kind of into an ethical dilemma that i didnt mean to go into and that’s unnecessarily deep but you’ll see what i mean ajskdhas but anyway disclaimer again!! not in law enforcement!!! this is not accurate when it comes to crimes!!! i really hope the reveal/ending isn’t too disappointing and that u guys still enjoyed the story!!! it does get a little more serious in this part but i still hope it’s in character/tone with the show!!

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

Jake is careful to open up the door of the bodega, which is all bordered up with tape as the shattered glass has yet to be replaced. The inside looks better at least, no longer sectioned off with police tape, and business seems to be going on as usual, with customers in between the aisles and some at the counter. Jake resists the urge to grab a snack for himself, and he glances around the room, frowning as he realises there’s no sight of you.

Jake finally approaches a young man manning the cash register. “Hey man, is y/n in?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry dude, they don’t work Tuesdays.”

Jake smacks the side of his head, remembering how you mentioned it to him. He moves to exit the store when he notices the live security footage playing on the screen behind the counter. Pointing it out, Jake says, “Hey, looks like you got your cameras working again.” 

The man looks over his shoulder, before turning back to Jake with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

Jake frowns slightly, his hand falling to his side. “y/n told me that your cameras were down last week.” 

The man remains confused, staring at Jake as if he’s speaking another language. Slowly, he finally responds, “Nah, they’ve been working fine. I don’t know what y/n’s talking about.” 

Something inside of Jake’s stomach twists, and he frowns. Despite how hard he’s been trying to defend you, he can’t help but admit to himself that you’re not making it easy. He digs through his pockets, pulling out an old receipt, and he grins to himself as he flips it over and finds your number on the other side. Pulling out his phone, he cringes slightly at his 6% battery level, and he hopes he has enough to make a call.

Dialling in your number, he raises the phone to his ear. It rings a few times before someone finally picks up the phone. Taking in a deep breath, Jake says, “y/n? It’s Jake, the detective from last week. We… we need to talk.” 

—

Jake paces around the briefing room, shaking his head as he tries to piece everything together. After coming back to the precinct following his failed attempt to find you at the bodega, Jake had filled up a corkboard with pictures and other small pieces of evidence he and Rosa were able to gather, although it was looking rather sparse. Your lie about the security cameras definitely presents as an obstacle, but he tries not to think the worst of it. He hasn’t told Rosa yet, who had gone out to meet with the forensics team again, fearing what her reaction would be towards you. Maybe you were mistaken, maybe the robbers managed to figure out a way to wipe the footage. But something about the situation doesn’t sit right with Jake, and he lets out a defeated sigh. 

“Hey, Jake,” Amy peeks her head inside, knocking at the door, and Jake looks up. She gestures back to the bullpen as she continues, “You’ve got someone here to see you. Sounds like they’ve got some information on the bodega robberies.” 

Jake perks up, rushing past Amy out of the room. His eyes widen as he sees you linger by his desk, nervously glancing around the room. He nods as a thank you to Amy before making his way over to you, and he greets, “Hey, y/n, thanks for coming in. How have you been doing?”

You meet Jake’s gaze, and you can’t help but soften at his tone. He seems to genuinely care, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Nodding, you reassure him, “I’m okay. I’m… I’m glad you reached out, actually. There are some things that I need to tell you about. Can we go for a walk?” 

Jake hesitates. He knows that he should probably bring you to the interrogation room instead, but he finds himself nodding. He grabs his leather jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and he nods towards the elevator as he remarks, “Sure. Let’s go.”

—

You and Jake make your way through the streets of Brooklyn, finding yourself at a nearby local park. You can’t help but smile at the sight of children running around, squealing at one another as they chase each other in some sort of game, but you can’t ignore the pit in your stomach, the gnawing guilt that has plagued you ever since your first interaction with Jake.

You finally happen upon an empty bench in a quiet corner of the park and you silently take a seat. Jake sits beside you, and your breath begins to tremble. Jake patiently waits for you, eyes wide with concern as he finds himself shifting closer to you, subconsciously wanting to comfort you despite not knowing what’s to come. 

“I… I haven’t told you everything that I know about the bodega.” you finally confess, and Jake takes in a deep breath. He nods slowly, silently urging you to continue, and you look up to meet his gaze as you continue, “I know who did it. And the other robberies, too.”

Jake stares at you, and you can tell it’s clearly a lot of information to take in. He presses his lips together, trying to process all this, before he quietly asks, “You’re trying to protect someone, aren’t you?” 

Your expression crumples, and your shoulders slump as you bury your face in your hands. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t cry, but as the overwhelming reality of the situation begins to sink in, you’re suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Jake’s expression falls, and despite knowing that the two of you are practically strangers, he wraps an arm around you, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm as he tries to soothe you. 

“It feels like I’ve been trying to protect him all my life, but I- I feel like I can’t, anymore.” you manage to say through sobs, and Jake frowns, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Gulping, you finally reveal, “My brother.”

Jake sucks in a sharp breath. He’s all too familiar himself with broken homes, with strained familial relationships. You’re almost afraid to look at him, but Jake’s expression is one of understanding, of sympathy. He gently reassures you, “Take all the time you need, alright?” 

You nod, trying to compose yourself the best you can. You fold your hands into your lap, perhaps a poor attempt at stopping them from shaking, and you manage to hold your tears back long enough for you to begin explaining, “It was always just me and my brother, you know? My single mom had to raise us, but we barely saw her because she was always working. But my brother and I always had each other’s backs, and I thought it would be that way forever.”

You’re distracted as a pair of kids dart past you, and Jake notices the bittersweet smile that appears on your face as you watch them. Quietly, he prompts, “When did you feel like things started to go wrong?” 

“I mean, my brother was always a rowdy kid, always getting into trouble, but it just kept getting worse and worse. I’d try to bail him out, but there was only so much I could do.” you continue. “As we got older, I started seeing him less and less. He’d show up whenever he needed help, but that was it. Until he showed up the night before the bodega robbery.”

“He came to see you?” Jake’s eyes widen in alarm, and you nod. You can feel a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach as you think back to that night, and you uneasily run your hands through your hair. 

“I didn’t know he had robbed those other bodegas. But he came around asking for me to let him and his friend in, basically. Asked me for the key. I told him no, that I could just lend him money, and he… he got angry.” your voice shakes slightly as you stare off at some point in the distance. “We’ve had our fights, obviously, but this was different. I was almost scared of him.”

You screw your eyes shut as you remember seeing the smashed in front door, the fear swallowing you whole as you worried what might happen next. Jake doesn’t try to prompt you further, knowing how difficult this must be for you, and he lets out a soft sigh as he wishes that you didn’t have to go through such a thing.

“I don’t want him to go to jail. I just want him to be okay.” you can feel your words getting caught in your throat as you struggle to continue speaking. “But he doesn’t even feel like my brother anymore. That night was just… I- I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“What about the cameras?” Jake quietly asks.

“That was me.” you sigh, nervously wringing your hands together. “I couldn’t sleep that night, so eventually, I… I just got up and went to see if he had really done it. Part of me still had hope that maybe he didn’t. When I saw the door broken in it just… crushed me. I almost feel like he did it on purpose, to scare me. But I still wanted to protect him, so I… I went in to delete the security footage, and rushed out before anyone could see me.”

Jake leans back onto the bench. This is it, he realises. With your revelations, it seems as though the case is solved. But seeing the heartbreak on your face doesn’t make the solved case as satisfying as it usually is.

“I just feel like I’ve failed him.” your shoulders slump, your voice barely audible. “He’s my family I have, and I just… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.” 

“Hey, you didn’t fail him, y/n,” Jake gently insists, and to your surprise, he reaches out to take your hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve been an awesome sibling, better than he deserves, really. But he chose to do this, and that’s not on you.” 

You nod, trying your best to believe him, and from the earnest expression on Jake’s face, you feel like you could. You manage to muster up a smile, and Jake smiles back at you. Nodding back in the direction of the precinct, Jake tells you, “I do need you to need you to come back to the precinct to make a statement. But you’ve really helped us, y/n, and you did the right thing.” 

A part of you has doubts, but you try your best to take comfort in Jake’s words. Jake gets to his feet, and you stand up with him, and Jake offers you a small smile that reassures you that everything will be okay. 

—

You bump the cash machine closed with your elbow as you count out some change. Sliding it over to the customer alongside their bag of snacks, you politely smile at them before they step aside to leave. You wave the next customer in line forward, only to realise it’s Jake standing before you, and your eyes widen as he offers you a sheepish grin. He steps up to the counter, placing down a bag of chips and a bottle of orange soda, and you exchange a knowing smile as you lean forward, “Hey, Jake. Did… did everything go alright?”

“We got him and his buddy.” Jake confirms, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “They tried to give us the slip, but I chased after them.”

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Jake quickly corrects himself, “Okay, Rosa chased after them, but that doesn’t matter.”  

You laugh, and Jake snorts with you before continuing, “There’ll be a trial, obviously. I’ll give you more updates when I hear them.”

You nod, before sliding Jake’s stuff back to him. You don’t even bother ringing his purchase up as you tell him, “It’s on the house.” 

“What? No.” Jake hurriedly searches through his pockets for some change. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do.” you insist. Jake offers you some cash, but you shake your head. “Seriously, Jake, thank you, for everything.” 

You reach out, closing Jake’s hand, and your gaze lingers on one another as your hand remains on his. He smiles, and Jake feels like his heart might beat out of his chest as you smile back at him. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime?”

You blink at him in surprise, and Jake winces as he worries he might’ve blown it. Stammering, he continues, “It’s, uh, my way of saying thank you. For helping us solve the case. And for the snacks.” 

Jake watches as a smile spreads across your face, and you chew on your lip as if trying to contain your happiness. “Is this a date?”

Jake grins at you. “It can be.” 

“Just tell me when and where.” you nod excitedly, and Jake beams at you. “I’d love to go out with you, Jake.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jake claps his hands together. He scoops up his snacks, backing away as he continues, “Hey, I’ve got to run back to the precinct, but I’ll text you, okay?”

“Got it.” you nod, grinning from ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch Jake clumsily try to open the door, but he stops himself. 

“Oh! By the way,” Jake spins around on his heel. “Do you guys sell batteries?” 

“Um,” you glance over your shoulder at the inventory behind you. “We’ve got some. What kind do you need?”

“It’s for a clock.” Jake sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at his reaction. “It’s… a long story.”

tag list: @myfriendmagislit / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi / @writinqss / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes / @lgbtonystarks / @fangirlsarah16 / @kittensanddarkclouds / @randomfandomimagine / @ofthedewthesunlight / @bravelittlesunflower / @gothicwidowsworld​ / @halfofwhatisayismeaningless / @amirahiddleston / @interwebseriesfan24​

[iloveitwhen]

jasonette but like siblings but like angst- like that whole trope where they are blood related and got separated, or they didnt get separated idk thats cool too i just want some sibling jasonette😅

Wow. ok. uhmmmm. this is a lot i think?? I got a little jk a lot carried away and this past week was super busy so i’ll finish the second part later??

Again... a lot...

Jason is walking home after another night at the bar when he sees a small woman, teenager? Slip into a dark alleyway and two men follow in after her a few moments later. 

Jason curses and bolts across the street, what was this girl thinking? How stupid do you have to be to go into a dark alley where no one will hear you or care to help?

He jumps into the alley to find one man already slumped on himself on the floor and the other getting kicked in the teeth by army boots then falling limply. 

Jason curses again, impressed this time. He scans over the men noting that they probably had pretty good concussions judging from the dent in the garbage can the first man was laying next to and the way the second guy’s head smacked onto the concrete when he fell. He lands his eyes back on the woman, no, definitely a teenager, with a smile on his face that instantly falters. The girl is in a fighting stance and waiting for him to attack so he quickly raises his hands to placate her.

“I’m not here to fight you, I saw you get followed and I was coming to help.” 

“Nobody helps in Gotham,” she states, a dangerous edge to her voice that held a carefully hidden accent. 

“Not from around here, are you?” 

The girl narrows her eyes, “I was born and raised here, take a step further and you won’t be waking up tomorrow.” 

Jason pockets his hands and smirks. He likes her, she’s a fighter, she reminds him of himself when he was younger. 

“Ok. Just make sure you make it home safe. A girl’s going to get some unwanted attention at a time and place like this.” He turns around and crosses the street but as soon as he’s out of her sight he turns back and hides in the shadows to track her and make sure no one else tries to catch her alone. Just because she could handle herself the first time doesn’t mean she’s necessarily safe from the next attempt. 

The girl exits the alley and starts toward the direction of Jason’s apartment calmly as if she didn’t just get attacked. At least that means less walking for him. After a few minutes she slips into another dark alley, of course she does, and Jason crosses the street again going into his own empty alley before pulling his helmet on and scaling the building. As he peers over the side of the building his helmet scans the area giving him feedback he would normally miss due to the horrible lighting and telling him that the alley was empty. He figured she had somehow gotten into one of the buildings and decided to go home by rooftops since he was already up there. 

However, as he landed on the opposite rooftop his feet slipped from underneath him. Jason managed to roll out of it but before he could get his footing his hip was kicked into and he stumbled, tripped over a seemingly perfectly placed rock and smashed his head on the side of the stair house. Then, just as quickly as this all transpired, there was a body behind him, they hooked their fingers under his helmet and lifted it to expose his neck and press a knife with jagged points onto his neck. How did he know the knife had jagged points? Good question, it was, as previously mentioned, against his neck and piercing into his skin, drawing blood. 

“Why are you following me?” a girl’s voice filters through his mask and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mask let him know through the constant visuals that the voice belonged to a female in their late teens, not that he didn’t already know that. 

“Making sure you got home safe,” he says carefully, weighing his options and trying to decide if he should let her feel like she got him or escape with a slight nick on his neck. 

Eh. Jason preferred to not have a bleeding neck no matter how small the cut. 

“Lies,” she hisses, digging the knife a bit deeper as a warning, maybe getting out sooner was a better idea. “What do you want?” 

“Knife off my throat first,” he manages without pushing his neck further onto the blade. 

A second later the girl releases him and jumps back with enough space between them to react if he ended up deciding to attack her. 

Jason gives her a quick glance as he stands up, a hand to his throat to check for blood. 

“I wasn’t lying-”

“You’re not fooling anyone you Red Hood wannabe,” she snaps. Jason just laughs in surprise, no one has ever accused him of being a Red Hood wannabe. He's the one who made the mantle into something to respect, something to fear. He stops laughing and levels a glare at the girl, his helmet telling him unhelpfully there was no match of facial recognition in any database. 

“I am Red Hood-” he started to growl out but she cut him off again. The audacity. 

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught by the person he was trailing, Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught off guard, Red Hood doesn’t have a stupid streak of white hair on his head. He may have been a theatre nerd but he wouldn’t do that.” 

Wait what. 

“What are you talking about?” But it was more of a demand than a question. 

“You’re not…” she trailed off waving her hand in the air trying to find a word, “slick. Same jacket, same shoes, same build, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

“Ok. Whatever, I’m going home.” He turns and starts jogging across the rooftop towards home. So much for helping out. 

“Where is he?” she calls out after him.

“Right here, princess,” he spat before jumping to the other rooftop. 

But as soon as his feet leave the building a big dark blue warbly hole appears and swallows him before he can react. Unfortunately for him the other side of that weird black hole was a face full of concrete. 

“Prove you’re him.” 

Oh this girl was something else. Jason shakes his disorientation away, he didn’t know how she did that, nor did he care but he was pissed. He swings his foot around and connects with her ankle, she falls as expected but easily bounces right back up and hops out of his range. 

“Do that again and I’ll have to break my no killing kids rule,” he growls out, staring her down for a moment. Her face was finally lit by the dim yellow street lamps and he could see the entirety of her face and all the raw emotions she was trying to hide. For a split second familiarity passed through him, like when you see someone at the library then at the store a few weeks later or you see an old school friend ten years later and can’t quite place them. Jason dismisses the feeling and turns to go. 

“Wait.” She says it so vulnerably that Jason gives her a chance, when he turns she pulls up her sleeve and shows off her forearm. 

In the center of her arm is a faded black tattoo that was a writing symbol, but because of its name and one of its uses it was used to brand child soldiers in Gotham from a particular gang that Red Hood obliterated as soon as his first order of business in Gotham. 

‡

It was the double dagger, or better known in Gotham as the death dagger. The children were expendable although highly trained and dangerous, they could give Damian a run for his money in the child assassin department. The tattoo was a reminder to the children and to the people they came across that they were soulless, emotionless, their lives and actions were not their own and they would give their lives willingly for the mission

Meaning who they were before was dead. No family, no connections, no one would notice if they went missing and no one would be able to identify their bodies if and when the time came. Sometimes poor families would sell one of their children and promise to forget them and to never contact them. 

Jason was led to assume that this was another child soldier looking to thank him, or kill him. It was 50/50 these days, some of those kids just never recovered. 

“So what is it that you want? You want my autograph across your head?” Jason asks dryly. 

The girl just huffs and pulls her sleeve back down. 

“I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.”

I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.

The words struck Jason deep in his chest but it only fueled his anger. He didn’t know why that hit so deep but he was not in the mood for this nor would he be at any time. 

“Just because I ended that gang doesn’t mean we’re family. Go find your other assassin siblings to play house with.” 

“Annette,” she calls after as he turns his back again. A strike of familiarity pulses through him and when he hesitates she continues, “that was my name before I was initiated. I was one of the first. Daddy’s little girl,” she was still talking louder than necessary since he hadn’t turned back around. “I’m the only one left from The 13.” 

Right. The 13. That’s what everyone called the first batch even as they were killed off, they were the most ruthless being the oldest and were also the most aggressive in proving their worth. It was common to find a number from 1-13 placed strategically behind at the crime scene, whoever had the most successful missions would be highly rewarded, or so he was told. 

“Do you remember?” 

“I remember destroying that gang and their stupid leader and having to kill some of your little friends and I also remember The 13 died within the first year and a half and were easily replaced by their younger friends.” 

“Do you remember me?”

“Look, kid,” he finally turns to look at her, “I don’t care, ok? Yay whoopdeedoo I saved you, get in line. It’s what I do, kill bad people and let the rest walk away. You’re not special.” 

“Annette Marie Todd,” she says hurriedly, like it’s a last resort. “Jason Peter Todd,” she continues, “just you. Me. And a blitzed out Mom.” 

Jason did not like this, he knew the Dagger Children were ruthless and expert manipulators but this was pushing it. He spun around to face her, ripping off his helmet, she already knew what he looked like and it was in the way of his death glare. 

“You don’t know who you are messing with. If you really were a Dagger you’d know that I am not one to be fucked with.” He slides his helmet back on and without a backward glance he runs off to the next roof and continues home. Thankfully not another portal thing opens up in front of him. 

———————————

Jason didn’t have a sister. He did not have a sister. He would remember having a sister. He would remember having a Dagger for a sister. But Annette was such a familiar name. And she had said her name was Annette Marie Todd. Todd. 

No that’s stupid. Impossible. She was just messing with him, for all he knew she could have been subtly showing her face in random places for him to react to the familiarity of her face and she could have said the name sometime in the last few months for him to vaguely recognize the sound of her name but not place it. 

But the Lazarus pit did alter his memories from childhood, it was like looking through a fog of red anger, or maybe it was always like that even before the pit, and it also completely wiped out other parts of his memory. But a sister? No. No way. 

Hours of this, circling around the possibilities and shifting around on his bed trying to get comfortable until he finally drifted off in a very restless sleep. 

Jason found himself in a familiar apartment, the one he lived in before his “mother” died. He looked around and it was more of the feeling of familiarity that convinced him where he was than anything else. He steps aside for a younger version of himself to run by him and turns to the window that led out to the fire escape and watches him climb out of it and close the window. Jason turns back around to see what Young Jason was hiding from. A man hands a thick envelope to his mother, Catherine Todd who had wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, her bony frame visible as well as her happy focus on the money inside that envelope. Jason couldn’t make out the man’s face but he turned around and grabbed the small hand of a little girl in pigtails. She turned her head and faced the window sending a smile but he couldn’t quite make out her face so he instead turned to himself sitting outside.

As he turned his surroundings changed but in his dreamstate he paid no mind to it. This time he was standing in an aisle of a store as a child. He looked around and found his mother dressed embarrassingly in a thin tank top and ragged jeans and flip flops. He feels a squeeze of his hand and looks down, his little sister is looking up at him and pointing to a rack of stuffed animals of Clifford the Big Red Dog that were suddenly there. He sends her a smile and looks up, intent on catching up with his mother and asking her to buy one but as he chases her his intent slips from his mind and instead he wants to taste the cupcakes he just saw. He opens a case and takes a bite but yelling makes him turn around and there is Batman towering over him. Instead of a tasty cupcake he is holding something thick and metal, a crowbar. He throws it at the man and turns to run away and jumps out of the parking garage and jumps into the air flying up. But he’s too slow, he tries kicking and swimming in the air to propel himself further away from Batman but a hand wraps around his foot. 

Jason jerks awake, breathing heavy and feeling uncomfortably hot. This was much more mild than his usual nightmares, if it could even be called a nightmare, but it was bad in a different way. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to be getting chased in his dreams by one thing or another and it always ended before whatever or whoever was chasing him got him but it was getting a little old honestly. 

His head was pounding so he slipped out of bed and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen. As he takes a sip he recalls his dream and how he had looked down at his sister. But that couldn’t be right. 

A searing pain in his head forces him to tighten his grip on his cup before it goes away again. Stupid head. Stupid dream. Stupid girl trying to get in his head. 

As he lays back down a memory of clear grey eyes flashes across his mind’s eye. 

---

Throughout the next few days Jason tries to ignore the headaches and his dreams of the young black haired girl with grey eyes and of getting chased which was more frequent and more urgent than he remembered them being. It was just all a big waste of time. At least the Dagger girl wasn’t trying to find him anymore, he didn’t know how he would react if she showed up again. 

After another dream of getting chased, this time he was just so tired of it he got a few good punches in on the Bane/Joker demon that was chasing him when his phone buzzes, startling him awake. He ignores it in favor of a cup of coffee and checks the time on the oven that he never uses, it’s almost two o’clock. 

His phone buzzes again several more times in quick succession. He finally heads over and clicks his phone on to see five messages from Stephanie. 

Replacement’s replacement🤰

so u have a little sister and u never told me???

anyways shes at the big house and getting interrogated by bruce and i think hes ready to adopt her

hello

so rude

i mean it looks to me shes tellin the truth but like seems sus for obvious reasons and ur the only one that'll actually know so… hurry up??

Jason curses and rushes to grab his things before running outside and zooming to the Wayne Manor on his motorcycle. 

welp i’ll add with another part soon that i havent finished yet but anywho let me know if jason is too ooc or something😁😁

[yourbleedingh3art]

tonight i just want to disappear. blip out of existence and not be seen or heard from again. leave my house in the middle of the night from the front door and just keep walking and not stopping, past all the things that are familiar until im somewhere unknown and unrecognizable and by myself. protected by hermitage. i want to keep things to myself. i only want to be looked at by strangers. i only want to talk to strangers. i want to be careless and unattached and worry about nothing, no one.

this would be nice for a week or a month probably not any more time than that, definitely not forever. but i want it so bad. a little vacation where im all by myself under the microscope of no one, truly free. i savor my time like that.

i keep worrying about stupid things ive already spent time worrying about before. chasing my own tail. big familiar circle.

i like my new hair. the blue. i've gotta adjust to seeing myself with it since it doesnt feel truly "me" yet, but i like it. i waver. i go back and forth. i definitely like it when i have makeup on. but im waiting for it to be comfortable 24/7, not just when im dolled up. its only the first few hours with it and i always struggle with change so im not surprised.

i am smoking in my garage. i've been doing this the past couple of nights, since it would cause too much trouble for me if i tried smoking in the house again. i dont mind going outside, though. it helps me break through the slump of spending all day in bed, burning thru my weed till its all gone and im a tired mush minded zombie.

i like elliott smith a lot. talking to mary is stuck in my head right now. i like that song so much. and pretty mary k. i like when he talks about marys. i think talking to mary is partially about me partially about mother mary partially about all the other obvious things its about that i cant name right now. and pretty mary k is about drugs or longing or being stuck wanting something and is also partially about me. i learned what solipsism meant the other day and now im scared im egocentric or an accidental solipsistic. if i sound like one i dont mean to be.

my pipe tastes very bad right now. i know it needs to be cleaned. luckily it's small so it wont be hard to do that. my spring break has been okay. it's had really good moments. it's just tough for me to be at home. it makes me think. it usually makes me ruminate.

i keep thinking, i hope it wasnt a mistake to change my hair. i dont know why i keep thinking that. i know i had planned this for a long time. i know i wanted this, anticipated this, and this looks exactly like what i wanted (well basically the roots could be fixed but mehhggghh it's really fine the color took quite well and it looks fine to the regular schmegular person in my opinion). but i keep worrying about it, i think it's anxiety related to other people, like what if they think, she was so much cuter with pink hair, that was her calling card, she was so dumb to dye it this ugly blue with those hideous roots. well then i would say. hey id been thinking about it a long time. and change is good. and if u dont like it dont look! shove it! when have i ever really cared about what other people think of what i look like. we all have our insecure moments but i dont let tht deter me ultimately from styling myself the way i want and im not gonna start. and i wasnt so anxious tht i didnt dye my hair bc here i am, decision made, not impulsively either, i bought the day and waited a full day and night of sleep to do it afterwards... so i guess i just needed to confront and acknowledge the little voice in the back of my head and reason it out in my virgo way

part of me is also scared the boy i love wont like it. and thats why i was upset when ii sent him a selfie and he did not compliment my hair! or just a general ur cute/sexy/hot comment. he didnt even heart the message. he was just like. oh i predicted u would dye it navy bc u said back in december u wanted to. wait is it purple or navy. and i could not even respond bc well its very obviously blue and i want to be told u think it's pretty!! also i felt silly because i sent him the picture and a lot of my torso was exposed in it maybe i looked, for lack of better words, like a tryhard slut, and i was like, no, of course u dont, hes gon a be like. ur so sexy. cuz u look good in tht pic! but then he didnt even say that. so i was like. oh... maybe he thinks i am... and. i was likle. ughghghghghghghghg why do i care what he thinks i hate caring! i hate caring what other people think!! bc then i cant just go about my day im like ooh what do they think...ok im getting too high to do anything but ramble now. to wrap this up i think i was just being silly because yes i wouldve appreciated the compliment but i already know i looked good in that picture so its not something to get butthurt about and ignoring him is fine if i want to do tht i can do whatever i want but make sure the ignorance is not just avoidance, make sure ur choices are conscious. bc i always want to avoid Issues bc. i am scared of change a lot and i feel like i have to be "strong enough to handle it" and i only feel strong and brave on certain days of the week.

so there is my friday march 18 12:18 am honestly blog post

[justbelievinginmagic]

song oneshot: no more dream

pairing: Seokjin x Reader

lyric inspiration: 

“Throw a fastball towards self-study that is a waste of time. Disobey the hell of a society, grant a special pardon to your dream Ask yourself what is your dream’s profile? Become the subject of your own life that's always been suppressed.”

summary: After a long night of studying, Seokjin challenges your perspective on your future.

warnings/tags: PG-13, established relationship, boyfriend!seokjin, college au (its clear im not from korea sorry lol.), challenging expectations, overworking, anxiety, a bit of insecurity. good bf!jin.

wordcount: almost 1k i think

You were startled awake by a backpack plopping down onto the table you were using as a pillow.

“Morning, Y/N,” the voice that chimed was bright and far too chipper for the grey morning that was outside the lecture hall’s windows.

Your eyes raised from the wood grains of the table to the man who is falling into the seat beside you. His lanky form and broad shoulders bumped against your slumped form in the process of settling in for the long lecture.

He – in short – looked breathtaking. How could someone look so put together and handsome so early in the morning? You swore his lips had a soft gleam to them that made the smiling pout of his look so tempting. His hair was perfectly tousled, and his skin was flawless. How? You didn’t understand even as you blinked blearily at him. You didnt understand how your boyfriend looked like he stepped out of a magazine while you probably looked like you rolled out of bed twenty minutes ago.

“Morning, Jinnie,” you mumbled while rubbing your fists into yours eyes, trying to wake up more. A yawn broke forth from your lips.

Seokjin pouted even more at the sight. He was worried about you; how could he not be? You were working yourself to the bone. And as your boyfriend, he could only do so much. His hand tugged out the gummy worms that he knew you loved (mainly because he ate them near religiously - and you snuck one too many from the bag until they were simply your candies). He hoped it’d wake you up bit. Cheer you up. You had been working so hard; you and him had barely spoken the past few weeks except for before this lecture class each week.

“I got your favorite,” he tempted, placing them on the table in front of you.“How late were you at the twenty-four-hour library last night?” he continued, his gaze sympathetic as you moved to stretch. His eyes flickered to catch the tiny bit of your stomach exposing itself to him with the action. Have you been eating well? He hoped you had. He knew the food options around the library weren’t good - and you often got engulfed in your work that you forgot to eat. He should make you a meal and bring it next time. His eyes rose from your tummy to your eyes again. They were droopier than usual he noted.

“I think I left around three AM?” you offered before your hands fell on top of the crinkly bag of sweets. You smiled a lazy smile at him; a “thanks” left your lips. However, he barely even heard it as the information processed through his brain. They were at a 7 am class. You left around 3 am. The commute - even in the dead of night was forty five minutes. And Seokjin knew you had slept only for an hour or two before getting up again to start your commute back to the university.

“Jagiya!” The fond nickname left his mouth in a scolding whine – as his arm rose to tug you into his embrace. He smelled nice you noticed – probably better than you did. Did you remember to spritz some perfume on this morning before running out the door?

He easily maneuvered your head under his chin as he wrapped his other arm around you. Your ribs were digging painfully into the arm rest of the chairs, but you were too tired to care. He tutted softly, the sound reverberating through your skull.

“You’ve gotta stop this,” he sighed, rocking you gently.

“I can’t,” you replied, muffled against his nice smelling shirt. “I can’t.” You repeated, burying your face into his neck.

“Why not? You don’t even like nursing! You can barely stand seeing blood! When I scratched my knee the other day, you turned white!” he complained. His words were quick with a twang of his dialect peeking through at the peaks of his sentences; you knew that only happened when his frustration got the best of him.

“You know why.” You mumbled, shutting your eyes. Your hand reached out to grasp his hand to interlace your fingers. His long lithe fingers complied. A soft frustrated sigh left his nose even as he let you take any comfort from him. The class didnt start until ten minutes from now.

You knew deep down Seokjin wouldn’t understand. He had the privilege of following his dreams. Of disregarding tradition and the wishes of his family. He didn’t have to be a doctor or a lawyer or a business man. His family was wealthy and well-off compared to yours; he was allowed to follow his dreams. Seokjin was in school for acting; his dream of being a drama star ripe and so close he could taste it. He didn’t need to worry about typing up the right multi-paged paper about a medical case or memorizing different instruments used in surgery. He just needed to act. He needed to be in touch with his body – be pretty, be well-taken care of, be prepared, be dedicated.

It didn’t help that he was both naturally talented and naturally handsome.

He had it easy in your mind.

“We can’t all be like you, Jinnie,” you conceded. The bitter truth was on your tongue. “I can’t pick what I want to do. I have to… listen to my parents. They know best.”

Parents knew best. Teachers knew best. You were just a child in their eyes despite being in university, managing your loans, and your apartment.

 Seokjin hugged you closer.

“Fuck them,” Seokjin decided after a long moment. “I know you. You should be following your dreams too. You should try to be happy. Why do you let them decide everything for you?”

You didn’t have the right answer to that. Maybe you didn’t know what you’d do if you did go against your family’s wishes.

What even was your dream now?

For some reason, your heart broke just a little as you cuddled closer into your boyfriend’s embrace – with no smart retort on your lips. A soft whine of exhaustion piped up instead - unwillingly. You were so tired and so… not frustrated but there was something deep in your chest that had begun to ache with this conversation. Was it disappointment or longing or heartbreak? You didn’t know.

You didn’t let go of Seokjin, and he remained silent. A moment passed before you felt him shift beneath you, your form moving away from him with the action. Your brows were pursed with your lips, almost childishly. His hand reached for his backpack – and then yours. “C’mon.” he said, standing.

Your eyes were wide like a doe’s. Confused.

“You’re exhausted. You can’t learn like this. Skipping one class won’t ruin your grade, jagi. You need to rest.” He knew you like the back of his hand; you weren’t clingy like this unless you were in distress.

Seokjin couldn’t just sit through a multi-hour lecture and see you be miserable.

“Let’s go.” He prompted again, reaching his hand out to you.

You took it.

[bdlhchn]

extracurricular; hrj

copyright © 2020, bdlhchn. all rights reserved.

genre: slight angst, fluff, tuition classmate!renjun, 1990s!renjun, student!renjun

w/c: 1445 words

synopsis: you’ve only seen him once, but you’re willing to not skip tuition just to see his pretty face.

---------

hating tuition was an understatement, you absolutely detested it. 

you didnt see a need to go for tuition, as you had the best grades you could ever achieve in your entire life. your mom thought otherwise, sending you to enrichment and tuition classes left and right ever since you were taught to read and write.

not to mention the stuffy and uncomfortable atmosphere that was always apparent in the tuition classroom, that never failed to bring a gag to your throat. the tutor droned on and on about topics you were already familiar with, even sidetracking to how he fell in love with his wife for the 30th time.

private tutors are expensive, you thought, that was probably why your mother sent you to a group tuition class. but this was too much, having a subpar tutor with top tier students? parents are really just wasting their money.

creaking plastic chairs and scratchy wooden tables really wasn’t worth the hefty $800 fee your mother had to bear every month per subject.

but maybe someone in your class was worth procrastinating for.

and that was none other than huang renjun, the chinese national that arrived and attended tuition for the same reason your mom sent you for; to be even better than now.

you and renjun arrived at the center around the same time, with the tutor gladly welcoming the both of you with open arms(because it contributes to his KPI). you soon go to realise that he really didnt care about any of the students in class, he really just needed the quick cash to fuel his wife’s obsession with hot pink iridescent birkins.

to be honest, renjun looked a little standoff-ish when you first saw him; jet black hair nicely crowned on the top of his head. round eyes, sharp nose and rosy lips, his features melded very well together, making him look effortlessly beautiful. he could easily make it as a teen actor, you mused, as he took a seat next to you, taking out his writing supplies and notes.

“im renjun,” the boy extends a hand towards you in perfect korean, “nice to meet you.”

“im y/n.” you shook his hand timidly, “nice to meet you, too.”

“i hope you don’t talk in class because i would like to concentrate,” renjun returns his attention to his notes, already scribbling the method to the equation on the blackboard.

you scoffed, did renjun not realise that he got scammed? the tutor that does nothing but rant about his everlasting love(that will soon evaporate the moment he’s retrenched)?

“concentrate,” you muttered to yourself, “sure, i wouldn’t want to be of any disturbance to you anyway. good luck trying to solve that equation, because he himself doesn’t know the method answer to it.”

renjun pauses momentarily, then looking at you, “then why are we here?”

“to raise his kpi,” you bit your lip, spinning your pencil, “if you haven’t noticed already. you’re kinda slow-witted for a star student, renjun.”

“i never said i was a star student,” renjun gritted his teeth, his pencil lead nearly snapping at the pressure he’s putting on the pencil. “you’re the one to say, y/n.”

“your method answer is correct,” you hummed, peeking at his notes, “and by the way, the question he just put out was in my examination paper last year. and i was the only one in the school that got it right.”

renjun stares at you incredulously, snatching your paper from your grasp, eyes not believing the big red 100 inked on your examination paper.

“suit yourself, renjun,” you sighed, taking out the gameboy from your bag, “you’re better off with a private tutor than this place.”

renjun slumped into the seat in defeat, arm going limp at how you just shot him and his hopes of rising up the ranks down just with a few simple sentences. no one has ever talked to him like that before, not even the valedictorian of his school.

turning back to the equation on the blackboard, renjun grumpily solves it without fail.

—

you never saw renjun in class the next lesson.

and the next.

and the following one.

you weren’t the type of person to poke your nose into others’ business, but there was just something about renjun that made you want to care. even though you have only met and conversed with him once.

you were worried that renjun was actually hurt by your words.

you tapped your pencil impatiently on your notebook, the eraser on the top of it rubbing off on the paper surface. students were strolling in one by one, but none of them was renjun. 

what was wrong with you? you seemed to lose total interest in the lesson when renjun isnt here, and that was the very first lesson. 

well, if you couldn’t listen, you might as well skip the class, right?

as the tutor began class, you discreetly packed your materials into your bag, pretending to pay attention to the usual droning of his monotonous voice.

“sir,” you feigned pain, “i think im not feeling too well, could you excuse me from this class?”

your tutor nodded absent-mindedly, “sure, hope you feel better soon, y/n. oh, also could you give a call to renjun? he hasn’t been in class for 3 weeks.”

you stared at your tutor quizzically, and he looked back with the same look, “what?”

“i don’t have his number, sir.”

“just get it from the front desk.” he waves you off hurriedly, “tell them i asked you to.”

you nodded and left the classroom, trudging to the front desk to get renjun’s number. the front desk employee gave you a slight teasing look, writing down renjun’s number on a piece of paper. you chose to ignore it, not letting it get to you.

walking out of the center, you had no idea where to go. you only planned the escape in your head, now what? you definitely did not foresee this part of your escapade that you would make it this far. 

walking past several drugstores, none of the makeup on display caught your fancy. you sighed, walking into the neighbouring comic bookstore and looking around. you have never actually been into the store, only walking past it on several occasions. you weren’t an avid comic fan either, but you have read some of the books before, to pass time. you took another quick scan around the store, a familiar face caught your eye.

renjun.

the said boy had his head immersed in a comic, backpack and homework long abandoned on the table, finding more interest and fun in the book in his hands. he occasionally broke into a small, inaudible laugh, then flipping to the next page. not wanting to disturb him, you quietly walked towards him, settling your things gently on the seat opposite him. renjun was so engrossed in the comic, not noticing your presence until he finished the comic.

“what the hell!” renjun exclaimed, earning some glares from the neighbouring tables, “what are you doing here?”

you eyed the stack of homework beside you, “to do work, duh.”

renjun could barely believe his ears, “aren’t you supposed to be at the center?”

“look,” you closed your textbook, staring at renjun dead in the eye, “why on earth would i listen to him ranting about how he nearly copped that pink croc birkin for the 10th time? i have much better things to do.”

renjun inched his face closer to yours, making your heart skip a beat, “doing homework at a comic bookstore, really? and how did you find me here?”

biting your lip, not knowing how to answer renjun with his face that close to you, you could count the individual eyelashes on his eyes, examining the curvature of his nosebridge to his lips—

“answer me.” renjun folded his arms, stare never leaving you.

“i was just n-next door,” you pushed his face with your pencil, earning a frown from him, “and i can’t concentrate without you in class.”

“you what?” the sides of renjun’s lips lifted, a look you really like, “can’t concentrate without me in class? do you have a crush on me or what?”

your breath hitched in your throat, no way you would have a crush on a boy you just met once. sounds too fairytale-esque even for you, a hopeless romantic who learns tips from romcom dramas.

“as if,” you scoffed, “you’re getting too delusional.”

renjun eyes you wistfully, smiling to himself. he knows exactly how you feel about him, and how he feels about you too. he shakes his head, taking out his worksheets to do. maybe not today, he thought, maybe next time.

[anythingandeverything1d]

Stressed Out

You were escorted into the arena by two guards, they each had an arm on you and were pushing their way through the crowd of screaming fans who had collected outside while you were arriving. People were pointing, recording, and taking pictures of you, all while trying to grab onto you and follow you inside. Your body was exhausted, mentally and physically. You were beyond stressed and you felt as if your body was losing the battle of life. You made it inside and took a breath, leaning against the cold brick wall. The guards stood nearby, giving you space but making sure you were okay. Harry hadn't arrived yet, but you wish he had gotten there first. You wanted nothing more than a warm hug and someone to tell you everything was going to be okay. Your body was shaking, your heart rate had doubled and you felt as if you could barely breathe. 

You slumped to the floor, your back still against the wall, your face buried in your knees. You closed your eyes and thought back to simpler times. The days where Harry would surprise you at home, he would walk in carrying flowers and cupcakes, the biggest smile on his face. You would stay inside and watch movies all night while ordering pizza and laughing while he told you all of the dad jokes he had come up with on the plane. You would sleep in until noon, snuggling in bed most of the day and catching up on everything you had missed while he had been gone. In the afternoon you would get dressed only to go out to your favorite park and walk around, ending up at your favorite ice cream parlor where Harry would sample each and every flavor until deciding to get the exact same one he always got, Christmas Pudding. Those were the days. The days when your relationship was still private and fans only speculated what was going on. 

You and Harry had been dating for over a year now, and originally your plan was to keep the relationship a secret and as private as possible. Of course Harry’s fans were dedicated and involved, they had quickly speculated that the two of you were dating but nothing had been posted or confirmed. Thats the way you liked things, you could still go out to the store and not be swarmed with people or have to have guards tag along with you. It had been a month or so ago, you and Harry had gone out to dinner and a pap caught the two of you mid kiss. The news spread quickly and then Harry had confirmed it in an interview and then also mentioned you would be touring with him. Now halfway through the tour, you were breaking down. Fans had taken quite the liking to you, which at first you had been grateful for, but now it was a little overwhelming for someone who wasn't quite used to being in the spotlight and was considered “normal”. 

“(y/n)!” Harrys concerned voice echoed through the walls backstage. You looked up, tears in your eyes as he knelt in front of you. He opened his arms and you climbed into them, breaking into sobs. “Shhh...its okay love.” he whispered into your hair. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You tried controlling your breathing but were struggling. You gripped him tighter and tried explaining. “Th-they-they-they were all around us and-and-they -they wouldn't let go. They just kept pulling on me and I-I couldn't see where we were going. Everywhere I looked-there was -there was a phone recording me and-”

“Shh...Im sorry babe. I should've been there.” Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead and just held you until you had calmed down a little. Your breathing had improved and he had pulled you to your feet, escorting you to the dressing room. You sat on the couch and looked in the mirror. You had big black bags under your eyes which were now red and puffy from crying, you looked a lot thinner, and you almost didn't recognize yourself.  Harry was running his fingers through his hair, you knew you were the cause of his stress which only made you feel worse about everything. He looked at you and sighed, walking over. “I think you should try getting some rest...I have rehearsal but after we can get dinner okay?” You nodded and he wrapped his blanket around your body, tucking you in. He kissed you softly and smiled, “Get some sleep babe, it’ll make you feel better.” you smiled and whispered I love you as he walked out. As soon as the door had closed you sat up. You hadn't actually gotten more than an hours worth of sleep every night for over a week now. Part of it was due to stress, the other part was that you just didn't sleep well when you weren't in your own bed. Normally when you were traveling with Harry he slept with you, making you feel at home and sleep fairly normally. This tour however had been different. He would go from performing to writing and recording, leaving very little time together. On top of not sleeping, you hadn't really been eating either. The thought of food made you feel sick, you felt like someone was always either judging what you were eating, how you were eating, or why you were eating. You had been judged on your weight, your body, and your looks more than you could count. You received more comments on your body image than you ever thought possible and it had made you extremely self conscious. 

A little over an hour later you heard a knock at the door. You stood up confused, Harry would've just walked in... You opened it and found a man smiling. “Hi, you must be (y/n)?”

“Yeah...”

“I’m Dr. Ken. Mr. Styles talked to me earlier.”

“Okay...is Harry okay?”

“Harry’s fine yes, I’m actually here for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, Harry was a little concerned...he mentioned you may have been feeling overwhelmed lately. You may not be sleeping well, or eating...” 

You didn't answer just crossed your arms and stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry but-”

“Dr. Ken.” Harry’s voice cut in from around the corner. He was sweaty from rehearsal, his shirt slung over his shoulder. Harry shook Dr. Kens hand and invited him into the room. You stood in the doorway not moving or talking and he came over with an exhausted look on his face. “Babe...”

“Harry what the hell.”

“You're not okay! You need to talk to someone, you are actually scaring me. I worry that one day you're going to drop over dead from not eating or not getting any sleep. Its not okay...I don't want to lose you...I don't want you to go home..but you cant continue on like this. I cant watch you kill yourself. I cant lose you.” You bit your lip, tears forming in your eyes. You had no idea Harry was so worried. You hadn't even realized that he had realized you weren't doing well. Harry hugged you and gripped your hand tightly while pulling you over to the couch. “Let him help...” Harry whispered. 

You looked into his green eyes and nodded. You never wanted to hurt or stress Harry out. Dr. Ken sat next to you taking your vitals. He seemed a little concerned but didn't say anything. Harry stood behind the couch pacing anxiously. “(y/n) your body is extremely dehydrated...when was the last time you had some water today?”

You thought about it, and weren't exactly sure. Normally you drank more water than your body every needed but you had no idea the last time you had taken a drink. “I’m not sure..”

“Harry, why don't you grab her a water. She needs to get fluids into her body..” Harry nodded and grabbed two bottles of water. He handed one to you, and dropped the other next to your side. You took a sip, appeasing Harry for a moment. 

“So why don't you tell me a little bit about how you've felt the past few weeks.” Dr. ken asked. You looked back at Harry anxiously. You were afraid at how he was going to react.. you knew he loved you but what if he thought you couldn't handle the spotlight...what if that was the end of the line and he ended things with you because of it. Dr. Ken sensed your apprehension and nodded to Harry. Harry didn't want to leave, he was very reluctant but after an encouraging nod from Dr. Ken he sighed deeply. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I have to get ready for the show. If you need anything, don't feel bad about interrupting okay?”

You nodded and he kissed you softly. You smiled and watched him leave. Dr. Ken looked at you again with a gentle smile. “Lets try again, what have you been feeling lately?” You sighed and let it out. You told him about the stress with fans, your body image, being perfect, being someone Harry should date. You told him about not being comfortable on tour, not spending time with Harry, your anxiety about being overcrowded when out and about. Everything building up in your body was spilling out. You felt a weight roll off your shoulder. Dr. Ken said nothing, he wasn't taking notes, wasn't judging you. He was just listening. He listened to you talk for almost an hour. You shared how you were afraid to talk to Harry about everything because you thought he would leave you. You mentioned how you felt that you couldn't live up to fans expectations. You cried about missing simpler times with Harry. He handed you a tissue and smiled. “(y/n) has Harry ever seemed unhappy with you?”

“No, but-”

“Has he ever said anything about fans not liking you?”

“No.”

“Have you talked to him at all about these fears?”

You sighed. “No.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don't want to stress him out. I don't want to throw off his game while on tour. I don't want him to hate me...”

“Has he ever said anything about hating you?”

“No...”

“(y/n) I think something that might make both you and Harry feel better is talking to him about everything.” You nodded and looked down at your feet. “I also think that you may benefit from going home and not continuing on with the tour..” You didnt say anything. You knew he was right about both things. You needed to talk to Harry. You also needed to go home. You couldnt continue on like this anymore. 

“I know..” you sighed. He smiled and patted your hand.

“Your health is more important than up keeping his expectations of you. If he's that upset about you leaving...he's not the one anyway.” You smiled sadly at him and nodded. 

“You're right... Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I’m going to leave you my number. Call anytime okay? I mean it..even if it's just to complain about Harry. I don't want you holding things in like this anymore. Understood?”

“Understood.” you smiled as he stood up and collected his things. “Thank you Dr. Ken.”

“Anytime.” He walked out, leaving you alone in the room. You waited for Harry patiently, trying to think of what to say. You were so involved in your thoughts you almost didn't hear him walk in. He sat next to you and ran his fingers through his hair. “How was the show?”

“Not my best...I had other things on my mind.” He smiled sadly and you nodded. 

“Harry I need to talk to you about some things...” Harry looked sick, but he nodded. You grabbed his hands and looked at him. His green eyes were searching yours for clues. You took a deep breath. “I think...I think I need to go home.”

“Go home? Like as in leave the tour?”

“Yeah...” you bit your lip and Harry looked confused. 

“But-”

“No...Haz I really need to get everything off my chest. The last month has been so hard-like harder than I ever thought. I don't feel like we have spent any time together...you don't even sleep with me...On top of that, I don't feel like I can live up to your image. I cant make fans happy. I’m not pretty enough for you...”

“Babe thats insane.” Harry cut in. “You are beautiful. I love every part of you. And you make fans happy, they all love seeing you-”

“Harry. People send me death threats daily. They say I’m ugly and fat, and they say I bring down your image and well maybe they are right maybe I-”

“You make me the best person I can be...You are the most beautiful thing about me (y/n)...I’m sorry..I didn't realize this was happening but I want you to understand that none of that is true.” you smiled and nodded.

“I know but it's been hard. I feel like I want to be better for you, and I know you love me. I know you think I’m beautiful. But in this environment I just feel like I need to be more. I cant get away from people. I cant even go out to lunch without people taking my picture and posting it somewhere online. I know thats a part of you. I know you're used to it but I’m not.” You took another breath. “I don't want to leave...I really don't. But Harry I cant go on like this. My body feels like its giving up and I-”

You were crying. You wanted Harry to understand. He pulled you into his arms and cuddled you closely. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“(y/n) I want you to be okay...I want us to work and if you need a break from this...well I am going to support that...”

“Youre not mad? You don't hate me?”

“I could never hate you. I don't want you to be stressed out all of the time. I want my happy, smiley, goofy, girl back. I want to see you stuffing your face with cookies and fighting me for the last piece of pizza.” You laughed and nodded. “If going home helps bring that back, I’m all for it. And I’m sorry I’ve been absent...I should have spent more time with you.”

“It’s okay...I know you're busy.”

“Thats not an excuse though...”

You kissed him softly and smiled. “I think-I think I want to go home tonight.”

He nodded and nuzzled your cheek with his nose. “Then we will get on a plane tonight.”

“We?”

“I cancelled the last few shows of the tour...you're more important. I want to be home with you...I want to make sure youre okay. I want us to get back to where we were. If I have to take some time off, then thats worth it to me.”

You smiled but shook your head. “But the fans?”

“They will understand...”

“Harry.”

“(y/n) Its not negotiable.... We are going home.”

You nodded. “Let’s go home then.”

---

This was a request. Idk how I feel about it yet lol

xoxo

[bi-peanut]

Underneath The Stars Of 23rd Street

All parts

The truck spluttered to a stop, sighing and creaking. I pushed down on the excelorater hard. Nothing. “Come on” I groaned, hitting the steering wheel. The cold night air creeped into the truck like icy fingers wrapping around my body, the heating system had shut down with the rest of the car. I can hear the coyotes in the distance. Town is at least 75 miles away, and here I am. Stranded in the desert. The coyote's high pitched growl grows closer. My hands are sweating and suddenly the cold air seems to be the least of my worries. “START” I shout at the car, slamming my foot against the excelerator. But it's no use, the shreakes grow closer and closer I can hear their ragged breath. “shit” I whisper.

I frantically fumbled with they keys praying for the truck to start. But it stayed silent and still. "Think!" I shouted to myself. I thought back to a time where my dad and I took an trip to Chicago and our car broke down on the way. He had jump started it "for educational purposes only" my dad grinned as I watched him. "Yes!" I thought. I slid down under the steering wheel. It was dark. I got back up and grabbed a torch out of the glove compartment before sliding back down under the dashboard. They coyotes where right outside my truck now, I could hear them pacing around curiously pawing at the doors and wheels. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I pulled open the wireboard and shined the torch into it. I remembered he pulled the red wire or something. My pulled at the wire not really registering anything I'm doing. Suddenly the car purred to life. "Yes!" I cried pumping my fist in the air. I scrambled back up into my seat and placed my hands onto the steering wheel. My truck was surrounded by coyotes, and as much as I knew they would hurt me I couldnt hurt them. I reved my engine and they jumped back. I slammed down on the gas, rocketing straight ahead. I drove and drove and didnt stop untill I got too the outskirts of town. I checked my watch, 00:30. Shit, dad was expecting me home half an hour ago, its not as if I could let him know I had broke down. It took me about another 10 minutes to pull up to our house. I was expecting dad to be asleep by now and he would let me have it in the morning, but when I walked in the door, there he was sitting at the table, a notebook infront of him. "Oh, hey dad" I say nervously rubbing my hand through my hair. "Miles" my dad says sternly "I can explain ok," i say "my truck broke down and there were coyotes and i had to jump start it like you did in Chicago and i tried to get back as soon as i could and-" "Miles. It's ok, as long as you are safe now" My dad walked over and hugged me. He never really did that, it was nice. My dad was a nice person dont get me wrong and he would never hurt me but he was never really a touch person, well I guess that part of him died along with my mom. She died when I was 5. Cancer. It destroyed my dad and I. Especially my dad. When my mom died he spiraled. He drank. A lot. It became so much of a problem I was sent away to live with my Aunt Lydia for 8 months while he "sorted things out" I was five. I didnt know what was going on. When I moved back home for a couple months after that aunt lydia would would come come and check in on us to make sure dad wasnt drinking again."So, how was aunt lydia?" I was visiting her in New Mexico for the weekend before coming home for the last couple days of school before summer break. "She was pretty good, shaken about Uncle Jimmy but other than that shes good"Uncle Jimmy died a few weeks ago. My dad and u went to his funeral in Colorado two weeks ago."It was terrible what happened to Jimmy, we will all miss him for sure" my dad sighedUncle Jimmy and Aunt Lydia are my moms brothers and sisters. Aunt lydia is married to Uncle Michael and they have two kids, James and Rick. They are both grown up and finished college. Uncle Jimmy wasnt married and my grandparents died beofre I was born. My dad doesnt have any siblings and he never knew his Aunts and uncles. His parents were split up and I never met my grandad. Grandma is still around tho and we spend the holidays with her. She lives in New York. I have no siblings. It has been just my dad and I for the last 12 years. And I like it that way. I do wish my mom was still around though. I loved her so much.

My eyes would barely stay open as I sat stooping over my bowl of porridge at the dining room table. Shit! The time! I hadn't been paying attention and I was late. "Miles!" My dad called from down the hall"I'm going now!" I call. Lies. I'm not even dressed yet. I run up the stairs to my room. I grab my Jeans, red t shirt and black and white flannel. I have fifteen minutes untill I need to get to school. The next bus leaves in 7 minutes, it takes 8 minutes by bus if there is no traffic and then another two minutes to walk from the bus stop to school. No. Too long. I'll have to walk, well run. If I take a short cup through the park and if i go down past the library I cam get there in time. And that's what I do. I make it to school just as the bell rings. I join the stream of students heading down the hall. English, my favourite class, is first. When we get in I sit down in my usual seat in back right corner. I dont have much friends. Well I have people to talk to, but I wouldnt meet them outside of school. My only friend that I would do anything for is Regan. I've know her since middle school, she is the kindest but scary at times person in the entire world. I turn to the empty seat beside me, wher Regaan always sits beside me. I tap the girl infront of me, Marjorie, on the shoulder. "Hey Miles" she says "What's up?""Hey, I was just wondering if you've seen Regan around?" "Um, no I dont think so sorry."Marjorie turns back around to her seat and I lean back in mine. Mr. Honran, my english teacher walks into the room. "Good morning class" he calls cheerfully. Just then Regan runs in the door."Ms. Treece, you are late, again." Mr. Horan says, hands on his hips."Sorry" Regan groaned, slumping into her chair beside me."How come you were late?" I ask"Stupid Ben was late dropping me again"Ben is Regans step father, she hates him because her mother cheated on her dad with him and then they got caught when they discovered that Regans mom was pregnant. Now she has a little baby sister Fiona. Fiona is the only one in Regans family that she can actually be around with out yelling. She really does love her.The day dragged on the only hope was that tomorrow was the last day before sunner break. I was only home for about 10 minutes to change into my uniform before I had to head to work.I work in the icecream parlor Happy Swirls, beside the library on 23rd street.

When I got to work there was only five customers inside. My co worker Jamie was behind the counter."Hey, sorry I'm late" I say as I tie on my apron"Its fine" Jamie replied as he hung up his apron.That's the thing about Jamie, he never really talks. He just keeps to himself hiding near his shiny brown bangs and baggie hoodies. There was a time where I considered asking him out but soon changed my mind when I heard him talking to someone about a girl he liked. I'm over that now, i didnt really mind, it wasnt as if I was in love him or something. But he was the first guy that I didnt block out that I liked. "I'll see you tomorrow miles" Jamie called as he walked out the doo. I washed my scooper and brushed my hands off my apron as my first customer of my shift walked up to the counter. "Welcome" I say in a cheery voice. "What can I get for you" I look up to see the customer. I stop in my tracks. Shit, he is beautiful. He has soft brow black hair that falls in curtains over his brown eyes, framed by glasses and soft caramel skin. I almost miss what he says."Umm, could I have a mango frozen yogurt with strawberries on top, please" His voice is soft and sweet. I realise I'm staring and quickly snap back to what I'm supposed to be doing, getting his order. "Sure!" I scoop the the yoghurt into the tub and sprinkle the raspberries ontop. Say something! I think to myself. But I dont. I stay awkwardly silent as I get his order. "That would be $2.99 please" He hands over the money thanks me and walks out of the store. I curse myself for not even getting his name. I probably wont ever see him again. After all, Phoenix is a big place.

@creamybadshadows @melophilic-joon-koya7 @keya-123 @the-writing-avocado

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 04 | thomas jefferson

 title: freedom of the press

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

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

words: 13.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't change the subject!"

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

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

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

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

Angelica didn't look convinced.

________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded. "I'm forever grateful."

"Grateful enough to go easy on Thomas?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thomas and I look forward to it."

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This seat taken?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N!"

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

"Hey, Dolley, what's up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Some other time, Secretary Jefferson."

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

________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raised his eyebrows. "With murder?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lafayette grinned. "Of course not."

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

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

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

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

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

"Oui? When else?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah." She smiled stiffly.

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

There was a skip, before Lafayette broke the silence.

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

We will talk about this.

___________________

Twitter

@gilafayette started following you.

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

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

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

@BenArnold started following you.

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

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

@JamesMdson retweeted your recent tweet.

New message from @A_Hamilton:

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

@A_Hamilton: i could even write u the questions

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

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

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

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

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

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

@Y/N_L/N: alex.

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

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

@A_Hamilton: YES THATS THE PROBLEM

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

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

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

@A_Hamilton: ur the only reporter that matters ily

✅ Read, 5:27 PM.

@gilafayette wants to send you a message. Accept?

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

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

@gilafayette: i am concerned about him since then

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

Messages to @gilafayette:

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

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

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

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

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

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

@gilafayette: brb

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

Messages to @gilafayette:

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

@gilafayette: but i worry

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

@gilafayette: no

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

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

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

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

@gilafayette: yes you told me to ask

@gilafayette: exactly

@gilafayette: what is the difference?

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

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

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

@gilafayette: wait he has just responded

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

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

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

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

@Y/N_L/N: lafayette i stg

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

✅ Read, 5:49 PM.

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

@Thomas_Jefferson wants to send you a message. Accept?

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

Messages to @Thomas_Jefferson:

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

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

✅ Read, 5:56 PM.

________________

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

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

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

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

Boy, was she wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just tryin' to escape."

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

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

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

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

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

"Now you're just baitin' me."

"Never!"

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

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

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

"Whatcha reading?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I just--"

"I wanted to--"

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

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

"The floor is yours."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait, be reasonable--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if she'd decided to stay?

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

[modern-vellichor]

Withdrawal

Chapter Three

Summary: Steve finally confesses, but she's not that kind of addict.

Warnings: polyamory, cigarettes, smoking, explicit language, guns, murder (fictional bad guys), implied smut, break ups, mlm

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader, Steve x Bucky, Stucky x Reader, (Brief) Steve x Luca (OC)

The next time Steve saw you was at a Stark party. You were sitting asleep on a leather sofa. The crowd had already dissipated. Your dress, which clung tight to your body and was already short enough, had ridden up to sit at the top of your thighs. Your head was resting against Bucky's shoulder and Luca was asleep soundly in your lap. Now that he could examine the boy properly, Steve couldn't deny that Luca was handsome. High cheekbones and a well structured face, a prominent jaw and deep set eyes. He reminded Steve vaguely of a younger version of himself. He was so lost in thought that he didnt register the boy walking from his slumber, dazzling green eyes boring into his.

"Hey, Stranger", he grinned sleepily. He had a smooth voice, low and gruff and intoxicating. He could see your appeal in him.

Luca sat up gently, careful not to wake you or Bucky before standing up and taking a seat at the bar, but he didnt order anything. He looked over his shoulder expectantly at Steve, who trudged over and sat next to him. While Steve ordered another whiskey, Luca shook his head politely. While Steve talked, Luca nodded and listened and chimed in with the occasional one worded answer.

Before Steve knew it, he was leaning in to pepper kisses on Luca's neck while he sat pretty. Then he was pushing Luca gently against the wall of the elevator, careful not to hurt him or shatter his porcelain skin.

When Steve woke up the next morning he rolled over with a smile only to find his bed empty. Instead he found a hickey on his collarbone and a note on his bedside table.

Sorry!

She's my lift home :(

--Luca

Steve smiled sadly and slipped the note into his drawer.

You kept popping up. You had taken up a job at Stark industries, God only knows what you did though. You were around almost every day, and stayed late into the evenings to spend time with your beloved Bucky. Sometimes Luca would appear to take you out for lunch, or you would lounge around in your office doing nothing for the hour. Sometimes Steve would catch a glance of Luca's sparkling eyes and have to look away to hide his blush.

It was early morning when Stark called Steve, panicking. He mentioned something about an emergency, a mission, now. So Steve jumped up and grabbed his bag, running straight to Bucky's room. The moon was still high as he barged through the door shouting. Bucky startled awake, and so did you. You let out a small yell as you fell out of bed and Bucky reached for the familiarity of his knife.

"Buck! Emergency! Suit up", he shouted before running out and then your phone buzzed.

"Who's that?", Bucky asked, pausing his scrambling to examine your confused face.

"Tony", you replied. "I've got to go"

You ran out of the room in your pyjamas.

Hey kid, emergency, meet me in the dock now

By the time you had reached the dock and Tony was ushering you onto the nearest jet, Steve and Bucky were running towards you too. All of you were confused but Tony didn't give you a chance to talk.

He ushered you to a back room and threw a duffel bag at you. You just nodded and he walked away. You knew what to do. You belted the cargo pants and pulled on the shirt and the holster and strapped yourself up until you felt almost suffocated. Bucky and Steve almost didnt recognise you when you emerged, but you paid no attention to them. You waltzed straight to Tony as he explained the mission. Tony handed you a gun and the two men didn't like how comfortable you looked with it in your hands, almost as if it were familiar.

The plan was as follows: Tony would keep watch on the outside of the compound, there was only one accessible entry point. You, Bucky and Steve would make your way through the compound to the control room. You would then disarm whatever security plans they had in place, and set the place to self destruct, and get out of there.

The first part of the plan went smoothly. The three of you took out any agents in your way, every agent in the compound was dead by the time you reached the door to the control room. Bucky and Steve were shocked by your ruthlessness and impeccable aim, never missing a shot, and never not taking one. You got to the control room with little to no effort. Then Steve's comm went out. You didnt worry, Bucky and you both still had full communication with Tony. You typed away at the computer, disarming everything, downloading a thing here or there.

The mechanical click of a clock sounding woke you out of your trance. Bucky stalked over to the door, he twisted the handle, and surely it was locked. Then he tried to break the window, and it didnt budge. Bucky and Steve fired at the walls and ceiling, trying to find a third way out. You heard Bucky's line go dead.

"Tony!", you screamed. "Stuck in the control room! Help"

You barely managed to stutter out your sentence before all communications were cut. You slumped down in the corner, the room was bare bar a metal table, an uncomfortable looking chair, and the computer that you were now finished with. Bucky crawled next to you, making himself comfortable against you while Steve paced.

"Steve", you whined. This was the first time you had spoken to him since the incident. You eyes were closed as you rested your head on Bucky's shoulder, who had his arm wrapped around you.

"Stop pacing", you moaned. "Relax, would you?"

Steve threw a confused glance your way, but of course you didnt see it.

"How can I relax when we're stuck in here?", he snapped.

"We've killed every agent in the building, and I can hear Tony above us. Just sit down, God", you sighed, exasperated.

Steve snapped again, this time your eyes shot open, sending a deathly glare his way.

"Why can't you ever do your job properly?", he yelled.

You curled further into Bucky with a sly smirk.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, Stevie", you drawled, a mischievous grin sitting pretty on your face. Steve was immediately wary.

"What? The idea of your best friend and your best girl getting to you?"

Neither of the men had ever seen this side to you, lustful and toxic.

"Knowing that little old James can fuck me so much better than you do?" you sneered.

Bucky was stunned into silence and Steve looked as though he was ready to kill you. But before anything else could be said, Tony was bursting through the ceiling and you were the first to scramble out into the open.

The next few weeks were busy, for you. Bucky and Steve lounged around, both too scared to bring up the events of the last mission. You spent hours locked in Tony's office with him, typing furiously away at your computer day and night. Bucky was always asleep when you went to bed, and when you left the next morning. For a week, neither man saw you outside of the gaps in the blinds of the office window. Steve would listen as Bucky complained about being lonely and then return to his room to toss and turn with the thought of you and him, now brought to the forefront of his mind.

It was cold in the compound, and Steve couldn't sleep. The moon was already beginning to set, dawn would arrive in an hour or two. He had opened his door a crack, and stopped when he heard soft footsteps approaching. He watched as you slinked slowly back to the warmth and comfort of Bucky's room. When Steve heard the door click shut, he too approached it. He pushed open the door gently. Bucky was already asleep, and you were falling fast. The door creaked as he stepped over the threshold.

"Steve?" you mumbled, not fully aware of what was happening.

"yeah, I just wanted to talk about-"

"oh, no, no! forget about it!", you whispered sleepily.

"but what if I dont want to forget?"

You looked at him, confused, but your eyelids were drooping and you words were slurring together. Steve took one last look at you, half asleep on Bucky's bare chest, and retreated back to his room, feeling defeated and dejected, and just a little hopeless.

Steve wandered past your office on his way to the kitchen the next morning. It was empty, not even Tony was typing away. He waltzed into the kitchen to find Bucky, making his way out with two cups of coffee. Steve stopped him.

"Y/N's not in her office?", he asked softly.

"Yeah, shes still in bed"

"oh"

Bucky left it at that. Steve waited a little while, going over his speech in his head. He wasn't quite sure how or would go. And he knew if it didnt go well, it was over for him and you, and him and Bucky.

He rapped gently on your door before pushing it open. You and Bucky were lying in his bed. You were staring off into space and Bucky was staring at Steve.

"I want to talk about the other evening", Steve stated after clearing his throat.

You smiled and protested politely.

"No, no no. It's okay, we were all stressed. I understand"

"No," he interjected. "What if you were right?"

You were stunned into silence for a moment. Your brows furrowed and you immediately reached for a stray cigarette and the lighter on your bedside table. You sighed, smoke spilling over ample lips.

"About what?", Bucky asked, clearly confused.

"Buck, no-", you mumble, hand on his chest.

"It makes me jealous. It's not fair that you have each other and I have to watch. Both of you were mine first and now you have each other", Steve spilled.

It was so wildly out of character. You dragged on your cigarette, aggressively massaging your temple. Bucky's mouth opened and closed a few times over. Steve stood awkwardly at the door. He huffed and was about to walk out when your voice echoed through the thick silence.

"I know about Luca"

It was Steve's turn to be stunned.

"I know about the note he left. I think its great that you've discovered this...part of yourself. You can't force this onto Bucky though, that's not fair"

"But-"

"Let's talk about this outside"

Bucky went to fling himself out of bed, but you stopped him. You shot him a warning look and he stayed put.

You gently guided Steve until you were outside of the compound, walking laps around the square building.

"I don't know how you want me to handle this", you admit softly. "I know that you think I would, because of my, lifestyle. But its only ever been Luca, and you, and Bucky"

"I don't know", he whispers. Steves ashamed.

"What do you want?", you stop.

"you", he mumbles. Even though he still towers, he feels small, and the reality is; he is. He is small and beaten down, and he feels just like that little pre-serum kid that got beat up in back alleys.

"and him"

"Fuck, Steve", you shout quietly. It's more of a loud sigh. "Have him! But I'm out, and you can tell him that"

You dont storm off, Steve expected you to. You just turned to face the horizon, bare back facing Steve. Steve is the one to walk away. It breaks his heart. But he gets one of you, and that's a win in his head. All great battles come with a loss.

[jj-lives]

Dragon Inktober Bmblb

Wow 2 days in a row!!

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

As finals drew near there became less and less time for date nights, whether solo or their frequent double dates with Ruby and Weiss. And no matter how convincing Blake thought she was being, Yang refused to accept studying as a date.

“But Yang, Isn’t us spending time together the point of a date?”

“Yes, but studying is not spending time together.” Yang retorted, giving up on her Bio text for the moment. 

“But us reading in the apartment is?”

“That’s different!”

Blake scoffed amused. “How so?”

“Well-“ How was it different? “Because we are sharing something you love to do so I feel like that brings us closer.” Blake looked up from her text with a soft smile. “And no matter how much you tell me studying will benefit us in the long run, you will never convince me this is something you enjoy doing.”

“You’re right about that.” Sighing Blake closed her text and started packing up.

Excited at the turn of events Yang began haphazardly shoving her belongings into her bag as well.

“No, no no.” Blake put a hand on the text Yang was about to pack up. “You are not finished. Keep studying.”

“But-“

“I have to go see if I can catch my History Prof before she leaves campus. I’m having some trouble understanding how her notes say one thing but the text is telling us another.” Blake took a half step passed Yang but paused as the saddened expression Yang was giving off as she pulled her things back out. “You will survive studying. You don’t have to look so sad.”

“I’m not sad about studying.” She defended. “I just- You know what? Never mind.” Yang smiled up at her girlfriend. “I’m just being dumb. You better hurry to catch your Prof.”

“By now I would think you would be aware you can’t placate me with fake smiles.”

“I’m just,” she slumped to rest her forehead on the table. “Everyone is so busy studying I feel like I haven’t seen any of you in weeks.”

“Yang.” 

The soft pitying way Blake said her name unnerved her. She didn’t like being pitied. She was strong and independent and should be able to last the few weeks of finals without the others’ company.

“Like I said,” Yang spoke up stubbornly. “I’m just being dumb. You should get going. Should I wait here for you?”

Blake didn’t answer right away. And Yang knew she would be contemplating how to deal with her.  But right now Yang did need space to sort out her head.

“I’ll meet you at home. I have something I need to pick up at the store. Don’t stay here too late, okay?”

“I only have a few chapters to make it through before heading home. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Blake placed a kiss to the top of Yang’s head before taking her leave. It pulled a smile from Yang at least.

She groaned loudly once Blake was out of earshot which garnered her a nasty look from a student at a nearby table. She waved sheepishly in apology before turning back to her text. 

She thought forced studying with Blake had been bad, studying without her was even worse. 

It had taken her longer that expected to get through the remaining chapters. She thought not having Blake around would have been less of a distraction. But the lack of noise from her flipping pages, or the little noises she made when she found what she was looking for through her notes were all things Yang became acutely aware she missed once they were absent. 

So almost three hours later she finally dragged herself into their apartment. Glancing at the whiteboard on the fridge she saw a note from Ruby.

‘Yang grilled cheese in fridge.’

Too tired to make anything else she grabbed the sandwich from the fridge and took a bite. It definitely would have been better warm but she really couldn't be bothered. She picked up the hanging marker and wrote a quick ‘Thanks’ under Ruby’s message before throwing her bag on the couch and making her way to the bathroom.

That’s what their interactions had become, notes on a whiteboard. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Ruby. She was spending almost every waking moment with Weiss, studying. Yang knew she couldn’t be mad over Ruby’s absence; She was basically doing the same with Blake. She just missed her sister. She even missed Weiss, not that she would ever admit that out loud.  

She let the shower’s hot spray relax the tense muscles formed by being hunched over a table for hours. Feeling a little more relaxed as she exited the bathroom. Yang crept quietly into her room assuming Blake was already asleep.  Her assumptions were proved correct when she saw a still form on Blake’s side of the bed. Quickly and quietly she threw on a clean tank top and shorts to sleep in before gently sliding into bed beside Blake. The other shifted in the darkness when the bed dipped and Yang stared at the ceiling, trying to remain still as Blake fell back to sleep. 

What she missed most was Blake. Yang shifted to her side, facing her girlfriend’s back. If Yang was honest, she was lonely. But it sounded ridiculous in her head, she wasn’t about to voice it to anyone. How could she be lonely when Blake was right there, not even a foot away from her?

Closing her eyes, Yang told herself tomorrow would be better, even though she knew she was telling herself a lie. Her last exam may be the next day but Ruby, Weiss and even Blake still had a couple more weeks left.

“Ugh,” Yang breathed, sliding into her truck. “It’s over.”

The last exam wasn’t as hard as she thought it was going to be; she did have to give that credit to Blake though, it was the constant studying that had accomplished that. 

Tapping the steering wheel, she tried to figure out where to go. She could go back home, but she knew no one would be there. She’d woken up to an empty bed and empty apartment. Blake just left a note on the fridge wishing her good luck on her exam. She could try the library. Blake might be there studying, but without her own subjects to study Yang knew she would more than likely just be a distraction rather than a welcome surprise. 

Not knowing where to go and not wanting to go home Yang ended up driving aimlessly around Vale. She treated herself to a milkshake from the vendor in the park and spent some time trying to relax on a bench in a secluded part beneath some trees. When she had nowhere left to drive and no reason to keep her out she decided it was time to head home. 

She hadn’t expected Blake to be there, not until late, but she was pleasantly surprised to see her sitting on the couch.  

“How was the exam?” Blake asked, getting up to meet her at the door. 

“It wasn’t horrible.” Yang groaned which pulled a smile from the other. 

Blake wrapped her arms around Yang’s waist before leaning in for a kiss. Yang couldn't help but sink into her embrace. She knew Blake only meant it as a welcome home kiss, but Yang just missed her, a lot. And she didn’t seem to mind the slightly desperate way Yang’s lips moved against her own. 

When they pulled apart they were both breathing hard, but Yang kept a tight hold on Blake’s hips; she wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“Thanks for making me study so hard.” She whispered, lips still millimeters apart. 

Blake’s entire body shivered and Yang revelled in the physical response she could pull from the girl in her arms. Blake initiated the second kiss as well, but this time the desperation seemed evenly matched. 

“Ugh,” Blake growled as they separated. She buried her face in Yang’s collar and sighed deeply. “When finals are over we are making time for us to be alone, deal?”

Yang laughed. “I would have made time during finals. You can prioritize better than me.”

“Oh?” Blake chuckled into her neck before pulling back to look Yang in the eyes. She placed a hand on Yang’s cheek and one more quick chaste kiss to her lips. “My willpower is finite, and it’s been crumbling pretty quickly the past few weeks.”

“Really?” Yang was surprised. It hadn’t looked like Blake was struggling at all.

“Yes, I miss you Yang. But I knew one of us needed to be strong. I didn’t want our relationship to be the reason you failed an exam.”

“I think I did better on these exams than the winter ones, thanks to you.”

“You are welcome. But as much as I have suffered and have to continue to suffer for a few more weeks, I know I’m dealing better with this than you, Yang. I’ve been used to solitude and being on my own. But you are the complete opposite.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know, but I got you something anyway.” Blake stepped back, a mischievous smile forming.

“You got me something?”

“Well us. I got us something.” She led Yang to their bedroom. “I needed something to both cheer you up and keep you occupied for the next few weeks while I focus on my own exams.”

“Should I be scared?”

Blake laughed.

“I hope not.”

Yang noticed there was a blanket covered box in the corner of the room which Blake made a beeline for. But when she removed the blanket it became apparent it was not a box at all. A metal crate that was housing a small black and white puppy.  

“You didn’t!” Yang squealed, dropping to her knees and hastily unfastening the hooks to open the door.  The previously sleeping puppy was quick to wake at the excited voice of someone new. “What’s its name?”

It had the colouring of a border collie, all black but with a white chest and legs but it didnt have the long hair a collie normally wore. Its tail had about half an inch of white tuft at the end and was as thick as a foxes. 

“I haven’t given him one yet.” Blake dropped beside Yang as she scooped the small bundle into her lap. “I thought we could name him together.”

"He's not a pure bred is he?" 

"No." Blake supplied even though it was quite obviously a mutt. " but with the way you took me in after my apartment and all, I didn't think you minded taking in strays."

Yang smiled. Was that what Blake was, a stray?

“Well if you were trying to distract me from missing you, you may have gone a little overboard. I may never need to give you attention again.” Yang lifted the pup up to Blake. “Look at that little face!”

The puppy kicked its hanging legs and stretched to give Blake a kiss before Yang pulled him out of reach. 

“Hey! Watch yourself mister. Blake’s my girl.”

“You were saying, about never needing to give me attention again?” Blake teased. “Looks like I have another admirer.”

“Of course you do.” Yang rolled her eyes. “Anyone would be stupid not to fall in love with you.” 

She turned the puppy to face her and it stopped trying to give kisses but it did turn its head and try to nip at Yang’s fingers holding it. 

“Hey, that’s rude!” 

She placed it down and laughed as it chased her hands around the carpet. When Yang’s reflexes were too fast for him, he became annoyed and growled at her. 

“He’s a little monster I think.” Yang thought for a moment. “Monster? No that’s not any good.”

“What did you just say?” Blake voiced softly.

“Monster, but that’s not a good name.”

“No.” Blake placed a hand on Yang’s arm, “before that.”

The colour drained from Yang’s face as she realized what she’d let slip. They hadn’t said those words yet and Yang was waiting for a romantic time to tell her. She thought after finals, when she could take Blake on a proper date. But she couldn’t really take the words back now, and laughing them away as a joke would be a lie.  

Yang grabbed the puppy and placed him back in her lap, smiling down at the terror before searching Blake’s face for any clues to how she was feeling.  

“I said anyone would be stupid not to fall in love with you.” Blake ducked her head as her cheeks turned red. “And I may be a dunce in many regards, but falling in love with you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I love you too.” Blake said after some silent moments. 

“Well that’s a relief.” Yang joked, trying to relieve the tension.

Blake elbowed her. “Though why I do is still a mystery.” 

“What good is love without a little mystery?" Yang winked. "Speaking of, what are we going to name our little love child?” Yang asked as he curled up in her lap.

“Ew, don’t call him that.”

“Well then pick a name!” Yang laughed. “Or LC will stick.”

“Please no.”

“Well we could just name him by his last name for now until we decide. Xiao Long?”

“Why does he get your last name?” Blake asked as she reached to scratch the pup's ears. He lifted his head and nipped at her hand playfully. “You’ve already taught him the bad habit of nipping hands… he is definitely your son. Xiao Long it is.”

Yang chuckled. “I’ll unteach him. But how about Dragon?’

Blake pondered for a moment. 

“Drako means dragon in Latin.”

“Ooo, I like that.”  

“Drako Xiao Long it is.”

"His name can't be Small Dragon Dragon. So Drako Belladonna it will have to be."

"If you insist." 

[smediumsmeatbae]

A Good Man is Hard to Find

PAIRING: PreSerum!Steve x Reader SUMMARY: Steve just can’t seem to land a girl. He shows up on one of his best friends doorsteps, drunk.  WORDS: ~1100 WARNINGS: angst, mentions of drinking and getting beat the hell up b/c it’s PS!Steve A/N: First things first, the title isn't mine. It's from a short story from Flannery O'Connor who is one of my favorite authors. You should check out that story if you haven't, though it has absolutely nothing to do with this story (in fact quite the opposite). This is another submission for #shamelesshoesforchris challenge hosted by @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18. I used the prompts: “You sad smol bean, let me love you!” with the quote prompts: “Oh God, did I say that out loud?” and “Can I sleep in here with you?”  I don't know if the story actually fits the trope. It actually ended up quite a bit different than I had previously planned but I still love this little story.  As always, please don't be a dick and post my stuff elsewhere without my permission.  Likes are amazing. Reblogs and Comments are even better.  Tags will be in the reblog because Tumblr suuuucks. 

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People said that Steve was tiny. But to your 5’4” frame, he sat eye level to you. They said that he was lucky to even make it past 20, with how weak he looked and how sick he always was. It was a wonder, they'd say, how he didn’t break into small pieces every time he got beat up in a back alley. They'd know, if they ever took the time, that sickness, bumps, broken ribs, and split lips were never enough to stop Steven Grant Rogers. And that was why you loved him. 

You had grown up alongside Steve and Bucky. They were a year or so older than you, so you automatically became the little sister tag along that went on all of their adventures with them. As you all grew up, yes Steve was out sick a lot but Steve was also brave and fiercely protective of you. You could remember at least a few times when the older boys would pick on you and Steve and Bucky came to your rescue. While Bucky's protection meant a lot, it didn't matter as much as Steve. Bucky grew up strong, with big broad shoulders and grew into those long legs of his very nicely. Steve probably shouldn't have fought for you but he did anyway. “A black eye’s nothin’ if it means you’re safe, doll.”

Once the three of you were grown, you all stayed together, thick as thieves, but to your ever growing disappointment, just as friends. You watched week after agonizing week while Bucky drug Steve out to meet some women, wishing it was you instead out on his arm. He'd always come back defeated, crushed like dried petals over again by girls who couldn't bear to see past his small frame, who couldn't know the strength behind his eyes. You knew. You'd known it almost as well as you knew your own face. It broke your heart to see him so miserable, so alone in the world. Yes, he had Bucky and you but he had only seen you as a sister figure, nothing more. 

It was one particular night that Steve showed up on your doorstep, slightly drunk, a deep scowl on his face. You quickly ushered him into your place to get him out of the street and to see what was wrong. Flopping down on your couch, Steve let out a broken sigh, head hanging in his hands. 

"Why..." He started. "Why don't any dames look at me? 'M not such a bad guy." 

The question came out in a mixture of emotions. Frustration, shades of anger, and bits of sadness laced his cerulean blue eyes as he looked up at you. Your heart ached at the sight of him. You weren't sure if the question was rhetorical, but as you sat on the couch beside him, you wanted to make all his pain go away. 

"Stevie, you're a great guy. The best guy I know." You told him truthfully. "Some women just can't see the value of a good man." "Yeah, that's what Buck keeps tellin' me." He sounded so defeated. "Where's the women who do see the value, huh? I mean, look at you, a beautiful dame, you don't wanna look at me and you know me." 

Did Steve just call you beautiful? You could feel yourself blush as the shock of the confession flooded over you. Was he just saying it because he was drunk or did he really mean it? 

"Steve, do… do you really think I'm beautiful?" Your voice was soft as you clutched a hand to the material of your dress nervously.

You didn't know if you'd be able to take it if it was a mistake, if he didnt mean it that way. You had waited so long for Steve to look at you with even half the admiration that you had for him. With every rejection of every girl, you'd secretly hope that he'd wake up and realize that you were standing there, waiting to be loved. 

"Oh god, did I say that out loud?" His voice was small, almost whimpering, as if he were ashamed.  "It's okay, Steve." A lump formed in your throat as you were fighting back tears. "I figured you didn't mean it."  "But you are beautiful, sweetheart." He continued in a rushed tone. "It's just you're like my little sister. Not that there's anything wrong with that, doll. You're so important… God 'm sorry. Can't think straight." "That would be the whiskey." You said, dryly.  "Yep, Bucky and I drank a lot." He mused, completely missing your tone.  "I'm gonna go to bed Steve. You're welcome to stay on the couch and sleep it off if you want. Just don't make a mess." 

You weakly stood up and made your way to your bedroom. You didn't even notice Steve saying goodnight to you. It wasn't a good night anyway. It was the worst night, and you just desperately wanted it to end. You were devastated, like your heart was going to come careening out of your chest and onto the floor. Okay, you had always known in some small part that Steve didn't have feelings for you. But you held out hope, held onto it in a vice like grip, that he was just nervous to ask you to go steady. Once that hope had been stolen from you, you felt lost. 

You changed your clothes to a night shirt and slumped into bed, ready to let sleep consume you. You heard some shuffling out in the living room, probably just Steve getting settled. Then, there was a small knock on the door and you saw some golden hair peeking through the door cracks. 

“Can I sleep in here with you?” Steve asked meekly. "Like when we were kids?"

Your stomach lurched at the last sentence. That's how Steve would always see you: a kid. You wanted to tell him no, to get lost. You wanted to tell him how he had already done enough to your heart that night. But you agreed.

You felt the bed on the opposite side dip down a bit as Steve got under the covers. A feeling settled over you with him lying so close. Every nerve felt on end, you felt like a defused bomb. You tried to close your eyes tight; you were determined to let sleep come, no matter what. 

You could never refuse him. He could shatter your heart a hundred times over and you would let him, willingly. Because Steve was a good man. 

The best kind of man.