#trying out a new. like. desc style also

[531]

BEDE: reblog and credit if using / saving.

[chaotic-history]

Thank you @enlitment for the book tag! Putting it in a new post since it's long. This probably isn't the best time to do this when my brain is still brain fogging, but here goes

Last book I read: The Satyricon by Petronius, specifically the 1694 translation (shoutout to V's birth year). It's the second most fully preserved Roman novel, and I don't know what I was expecting from it, but it's just kinda meh? In its defense, the translator has a very specific writing style that didn't read very smoothly for me, so I'm sure it's much better in the original. The best parts imo were Encolpius and the poet complaining about modern (ie, to them) things in the exact same ways that we complain about the exact same things now.

Book I recommend: The Terra Ignota series by Ada Palmer. It's a sci-fi series with a philosophical bent set in the year 2454 and written mostly in the style of the Enlightenment era (the narrator, Mycroft, has a very bad case of 18thC brainrot). One of the things it touches on really well is how gender is perceived in different ways according to different standards, and I don't want to explain that since I think you have to go into the book not knowing a lot-- it's throwing you into a society that's as different from ours as the 18thC is, and you're supposed to feel like that. And I know "the worldbuilding is good" is probably overused, but it really is; parts are fantastical enough to feel like it's verging on a dream, and it's grounded in enough of a potential reality to make even the impossible things seem achievable. Featuring a very politically significant 18thC brothel, the ghost of Thomas Hobbes, the actual Achilles, Humanists, the world's #1 unreliable narrator, and a sex scene taken almost word-for-word from de Sade until the reader asks the narrator to stop.

Also Candide because I need to keep up my streak of convincing people to read Candide.

Book I couldn't put down: Do not underestimate my ability to put down literally anything. That said, the fourth and last Terra Ignota book (can you tell I'm trying very hard to sell it?). I can't say much about it because almost anything at that point is a massive spoiler, but books 1-3 are all gradually building up to a major event in book 4, and it's sort of the quiet kind of suspense where you know what's going to happen, but all you can do is wait and see the extent of the damage, and the main focus of the tension even during it is how you're going to rebuild, and any solution is so painfully flawed but it's something and the narrative drags you along throughout all of it by the sheer force of its hope.

Book I've read twice: Quite a few, but my favorites that I've read multiple times are Catcher in the Rye and L'Immoraliste. I read Catcher in the Rye the first time for class, and I don't want to go on another long rant, but I love Holden so much and I'm incredibly glad that I read the book when I did; I can see so much of myself in him and having sympathy for Holden taught me that maybe I need to have a bit more sympathy for myself as well. Also, sorry Mrs. [redacted] for stealing your copy of the book. It wasn't on purpose but it'd feel weird to return it now.

L'Immoraliste I originally picked up at the library to read the first time because based on the year published and the title I assumed like a 90% chance of it being gay, then I fell in love with the writing style and so I reread it in French. The part where Michel is going out to lay in the sun naked (<- absolutely terrible desc. of it but I can't think of smthn better right now) is up there in my top three book scenes ever.

A book on my TBR: Way too fucking many, reader, way too fucking many. On the top of the list right now is Goethe's Faust since I'm intrigued by @iron--and--blood's Faust AU for Morton's Hope, and also since I should maybe read some philosophy that isn't just French (does Goethe count as a philosopher? At least by the 18thC definition I think he could). And Goethe said V was good, so at least I know he has good taste.

Also I should maybe finally start reading all the Molière/Racine/Corneille stuff I've been stocking up on lol.

A book I've put down: Voltaire et Frédéric II by Roger Peyrefitte. It sucks shit and I've tried to read it at least five times now and every time I have to stop because it makes me want to personally murder the author by like 50 pages in and I am not exaggerating in the least.

A book on my wishlist: There's a couple 1780s editions of Villette's works for sale that I like to look at every so often... I'm sure I'll eventually cave in someday but for now I'll keep trying to convince myself I don't need it.

A favourite book from childhood: I had to google a bunch of stuff to find this since I couldn't remember the title, but it's first book from the Epic Order of the Seven Series by Jenny L. Cote, about a bunch of talking animals during various Bible stories/major events (yes it is very weird). This one is about Noah's Ark, and since the animals were from all around the world, parts of their dialogue were written in a bunch of different languages with a little dictionary at the back which I thought was the coolest thing ever (it kinda is tbh).

A book you would give to a friend: Depends on the friend and what I think they'd like, but the last book I gave to a friend was Discourses on Livy since we were talking about The Prince.

A book of poetry/lyrics you own: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage! Yet another book I haven't gotten around to reading yet.

A non-fiction book you own: Changes in the Land by William Cronon. It's about the ecological changes in New England from before the Europeans arrived roughly up to 1800 and how the environment shaped and was affected by the economies of the Native Americans and the settlers, and one of the points that really stuck with me was that one of the major differences between the two groups' relationships with the environment was that the Native Americans primarily viewed resources as being valuable in terms of the function they served, while the settlers saw natural resources as being valuable firstly because they could be sold, and he talks about how it was that mindset which we still had today that made a healthy relationship between the colonists' economy and the environment unsustainable. It's also written in a way that's super easy to follow, even if you know nothing about ecology (which I do not).

Currently reading: The first volume of V's correspondance from the Garnier edition. So far I've made it up to 1731, and I realised I'm still thinking of him then as young V even though he's 37. There's so many gems in the letters though (especially to Thieriot) and it keeps leading me down a bunch of rabbit holes.

Planning on reading next: Faust!

Tagging: @ouiouixmonami, @acrossthewavesoftime, @apurpledust, @captainsamta, and @orchatab

[garfunklefield]

Good for you!

CollegeStudent!Misa Amane/ CollegeStudent!Light Yagami Warnings: college AU, misa is smart YALL, insecurity, oblivious crushes, dating apps, academic rivals to lovers, one-sided rivalry/hatred, misa HATES light (or does she ;) ), honorifics used poorly bc I'm American I'm trying, meet cute more like meet and argue in the philosophy section of a library, jealousy, this hatred may not be one-sided Word count: 3379 DESC: Misa had always had trouble looking at dating apps, everyone after her beauty than her intellect. She wanted someone who could challenge her mentally. What if that someone happened to be a boy she hated, who had no idea she existed?

First death note post in a while! I am still however taking a break from x-reader content ;-;

NOTES: Honestly, I've been wanting to write this for so long, but I've been a bit timid to do so. So if this isn't your thing or you don't like the ship, I ask please don't send any hate my way. This really had no direction rather than I wanted one-sided beef instead of one-sided romance that we see in the anime/manga. Also, this is so not coherent I got derailed (and not proofread we ball) so go into this knowing it's a little bit bad.

“God!” She huffed to herself, rolling on her back and extending her arms out, holding her phone further from her face. Dating apps sucked and boys sucked! And not to mention everyone in her college classes thought she was too weird to approach. Or they were too snarky, like that older boy, Light Yagami, in her seminar class. All he did was talk every chance he got, insisting he was right on every point he made. He always got on her nerves, especially since he dressed so poorly. Sweaters and button-ups with no rhyme or reason. That boy didn’t even try with his hair either, opting for some bed-head looking swoop that barely covered his eyes. What was this, 2007? Well, Misa couldn’t judge too much since her style was influenced by the 2000s too. But it was the good part! Not Justin Bieber.

The blonde sat up and frowned at her phone. No new matches, nothing more than an empty box on her Hinge. She had been swiping all day but no one was catching her eye. No one would even reply to her comments on their profiles, it was pointless! Without saying another word, she dialed up her friend Kiyomi and prayed she’d answer. When it clicked and she heard her friend's voice, she didn’t give her friend time to speak. 

“Kiyo-chan! It’s just awful,” she whined, frowning to the air as she moved her freshly manicured hand in the air, “Boys suck!” Kiyomi laughed into her phone, something relaxed and laid back. Something her friend wasn’t. That’s why they complimented each other so much, they were different. The women didn’t care for fashion as her counterparts did, or boys for that matter.

“You’re just being insecure,” she replied, with the obvious tone of someone who knew she was right, “If you stop forcing it, you’re bound to find someone.”

Misa gasped at the blunt truth, furrowing her brows, “I’m not forcing it!” But she knew her friend was right, “It’s not my fault if I want a boyfriend sooner than later.” As she spoke, she stood up from her bed and stretched one arm out, looking at herself in the mirror before her bed. It was just tall enough to show her whole frame, long blonde hair cascading before her shoulders. Face was bare from makeup, hollow with acne scarring and blemishes she always covered. Thin eyelashes and thinner brows, dark spots, and freckles littered her skin. 

There was a reason she wanted someone to be with her more than obvious loneliness, it was because deep down inside she wanted someone to assure her she was beautiful. Not her face, but her soul. She knew she was pretty, even with her imperfections. But no one ever complimented her wit or her intelligence, it was all about her body or her face. A face no one had ever seen bare after a night spent together. No one had ever slept in her bed, not the whole night through. Yes, she’d have had sex before, but it wasn’t with someone she loved. It was hard to love someone when they only loved your looks. 

“Well,” Kiyomi brought her back to reality with the smooth concentration of her voice, “You could go to the library and stake out some fresh meat. I think Yagami-Senpai is there today.”

Him. Oh, she hated him. 

“No, I don’t care if he’s your tutor, no,” Amane quickly interjected, pressing her plump lips together. Him? Why did her friend always assume the blonde’s hatred for him was something more when all it was, was just that. Hatred. Some girls pretended to dislike him to cover up for the fact they did like him, whereas Misa would proudly announce everything she hated about him. She hated people who weren’t cute, and he wasn’t cute. 

She laughed, “Aw come on Misa-chan! It’s not like he’s gonna bite,” her voice came out teasing, causing her friend to bite back a flustered feeling building in the back of her throat. Her cheeks began to blush out of frustration. 

“I don’t even think he likes women,” Misa scoffed, pretending to sound unbothered, “He has that thing with the foreign exchange student, Lawliet-san.” Light and Eru had some kind of “beef” with each other academically, although they’d always find time to play tennis together. It was strange, how they could go from yelling in debate to getting ice cream moments later. She never bothered to listen when they’d fight, instead opting to put in her headphones and wait until they stopped blabbing. 

“But Lawliet-san is seeing Misora-senpai,” Kiyomi spoke, delving into more gossip than she should, “Or maybe it’s his brother, Ryuzaki-senpai. They’re basically identical.” 

“No, Ryuzaki-senpai is seeing her,” she outstretched her hand to check her nails, which she knew were perfect, “Lawliet-san is a shut-in, he only ever talks to Yagami-san,” she clarified, hearing a genuine “oh” from the other line. 

“Darn, I was hoping for a scandal,” at that, Misa laughed, “But you should go to the library. I heard they updated their philosophy section~” She spoke in a sing-song voice, trying to entice the blonde to go out and inevitably run into you know who. 

“Why are you so gung-ho on me and that rat getting together? I haven’t even formally said hello to him yet!” She rolled her eyes, looking down at the floor. Some clothes were littered on the floor, as she got dressed. That’s how it always went for Amane. She wasn’t necessarily messy as she was just … no she was messy, even she could admit it. She loved cute things and she especially loved to collect cute things even more. 

“No time like the present,” she could hear the smile in Kiyomi’s voice as she said her goodbyes, “Remember, library.” 

“Bye, Kiyo-chan,” Misa spoke softly, hanging up the phone. No matter what, even if they disagreed on her love life, she’d always go to Kiyomi. She was the best friend anyone could ask for, even if she was heading on a different life path. She was only going to college because her parents wanted her to, not because she had a drive. Her friend had dreams of going into music and making it big as a producer. The girl never understood the kind of passion she had, but she admired it. If only she was as passionate about modeling as her friend was about producing music.

The blonde looked around her room, and then to her mirror. Her outfit was presentable enough that she could go out without being stopped or better yet looked at funny. Just a simple T-shirt from a band she enjoyed. It was black with a grey kind of tie-dye effect, the white logo spread across the chest. Then some simple black jean shorts, with the end a bit tattered and ripped. All of it was more casual than she’d typically wear, but it was cute enough. With some light concealer on her acne and under her eyes, blush on the apples of her cheeks, and mascara, she was ready to go. 

Misa couldn’t believe she was being talked into going to the library, especially when it was confirmed you know who was there. In some strange way, she hoped she’d see him, just so she could turn the other way and scoff. He didn’t deserve her attention! So why did she spend so much time hating him when truthfully they had never even spoken? She had to admit, that did kind of set her up to appear to have a crush on him.

The walk to the library was quick and easy, especially with the music she chose. It was something dark, that reflected her taste in clothing, although it contrasted her personality. The tune blasted in her black over-the-ear headphones, letting the girl escape just for a moment from the reality in which she lived. It let her escape from the fact that truly she’s never had a true romantic connection, and even if she did it was always one-sided. When Misa loved, she loved so much harder. And the people who loved her loved her face. Loved her body, so much more. It was nothing, it barely bothered her. That’s at least what she told herself, every time she looked in the mirror.

Misa opened the door to the library and peered around. No one she hated in sight, a good start. She was riddled with some kind of butterflies just at the thought of him, especially seeing him in his natural environment. It was annoying, she’d always see him with a book in his arms as he walked around campus. What a pretentious douchebag! All he ever did when he wasn’t talking over people in his classes was brag about the amount of books he was reading. No one cared he was reading 30,000 words a day, no one. Especially not her. Every time she heard him in class a little part of her died. 

She approached the section her brain had been most excited about. Of course, it was probably bait, but she wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to see if there were new philosophy books in store for her to peruse. Amane found herself almost tunnel-visioned when she slid up and down the aisles, searching for something new. The smell of books was something euphoric, even though she didn’t own many books herself. While she enjoyed fiction, non-fiction was always more easy to read. The blonde drew closer to one big book in particular, that was begrudgingly two inches taller than her arm could extend. Misa frowned, pouting a glossy lip as she tried to step on her tippy-toes. But nothing. She was overextending herself for a book that she wasn’t even sure if she would like.

“Need help?” A voice whispered into her ear. A voice all too familiar. It couldn’t be. No!! Misa slowly turned her head in a flustered horror, cheeks reddening as she came face to face with her mortal enemy. HIM!? The man she had hated for months, who, to be fair, never turned his head 90 degrees to notice she was sitting by his right. He never saw her glares or the way she’d roll her eyes when he’d start talking. Never saw any of it. 

Light’s face was more detailed up close, as anyone would. But it was different. This kind of thing, freckles and lines on his face, bits of stubble, all made him look … human. It was strange. She could almost reach out and touch it, just to see if it was real. Up close, his eyes were deep pools of caramel she noticed shined in the fluorescent light. He looked like that but dressed like shit? He was throwing away any potential of being attractive at that point. 

“Yagami-san,” Misa breathed out, staring at him with wide eyes. He didn’t expect her to know him at all, she assumed, from the way he took a step back. 

The man pressed his lips together, before cracking a planned and devious smile, “In the flesh.” Both of his hands gestured back to himself, “Do I know you?” Of course, he didn’t. 

She went to respond, but her eyes trailed back to that book. If she had just been able to reach she’d be out of this awkward situation. The girl looked back at him, nodding her head slowly, “Seminar. I sit near you.” Loudmouth. That’s what she wanted to say. She wanted to roll her eyes and complain about how annoying he was, but all that came out were timid words and even more timid body language. Misa had to remind herself, she was in control of social situations. Even with guys she hated. So she straightened her posture, putting on a mask of confidence and comfort, lifting her hand and pointing her index finger to the side, “You talk a lot, of course, I know you!” 

She had to be confident. 

Light blinked a few times, caught back a bit by her sudden shift in demeanor. He had expected shy and timid, he was probably hoping for it. He liked winning, it was in his blood. Only rarely did the girl see him obviously throw a round in tennis, knowing he would bounce back for a spectacular victory. All he ever did was calculated and precise. Not once was it spontaneous. He never had a spontaneous bone in his body! He had expected this social situation differently by her stance alone, so the fact she turned on this sense of confidence had to be jarring. Good. She never wanted anything she ever did to be easy for him. 

“Well, I do like to debate, I find it men-” The brunette began, to be cut off with a blunt, “It’s annoying.” His smile twitched and she replied with a smug smile of her own. Oh, this felt good. It felt amazing to rub in the fact she did not like him. TO HIS FACE!

“Excuse me?” Light raised his eyebrows at her response. 

“Yeah! Sorry, was I not clear?” Misa tilted her head to the right innocently. To that, the man scowled visibly. “I don’t understand why you butt in all the time. It leaves no one else wanting to talk because you’ll debate them on moral high ground stuff.” 

“The trolley problem is a very good, intellectual topic everyone should discuss.” Light spoke, gritting his teeth through a strained smile. Had no one ever challenged him before? Eru was good, but he knew his friend's limits. And that too. They were friends. There was a friendly competition there, but there was nothing friendly about Misa’s words.

“The topic was online reading verses books! You totally derailed it with intellectual bullshit,” she looked away, biting back a smug smile. He paused for a moment, studying her features with a razor-sharp focus she knew anywhere. He was smart, it was obvious from how he held himself. Sloppy handwriting and notes led to well-thought-out and complex thoughts. Light was smart and he knew it, and that pissed her off. Everyone treated him as if he was a genius when their IQs could be similar. But she wouldn’t be treated like that, would she? Was Misa … jealous? Was she secretly jealous over the fact that everyone treated him with respect for his intellect when no one acknowledged hers?

“Then why don’t we discuss this intellectual bullshit, if it is that?” He turned his head to the side, catching her gaze with an intense fire. He wasn’t backing down. 

 Misa didn’t have to think much, already coming up with her decision when Light brought it up that class period for some fucking reason, “A human life is a human life, sparing one to save ten would be worth it in my opinion.” She pressed her index finger into her pink bottom lip, looking away to point out another thought, “In that way, I believe we agree. But,” she looked at him, “You only brought it up to show your smarts, not that you actually care about the iPhones vs books debate. You just want to look smart.” 

“I am smart,” he corrected, closing his eyes and letting out a scoff, “And I like to show it off. That isn’t a crime, is it? You think you’re superior because you pick and choose your battles, instead of clearing the battlefield with one steady blow.” Light opened his eyes, catching her in a decisive truth that struck her in the chest, “I’m right. I know I am.”

She furrowed her eyes, going to retaliate with another valid yet rude point, when he took a step forward, “Truth is, Amane-san, I knew who you were from the moment I saw you.” Another step. “I only offered my help because you looked pitiful trying to grab that book by your lonesome.” Another step. “I see you roll your eyes and make faces. So maybe I play it up just to … Piss. You. Off.” He took three more steps, hovering over the shorter blonde with a sense of superiority. 

Misa stared up at him as he cornered her behind those stupid philosophy books. He wasn’t close by any means, giving her enough room to leave if she wanted to. But the both of them knew she wasn’t going to. She was standing her ground and she was intending to win this battle. Even if it meant being in this embarrassing position. Her cheeks were burning and god, she wanted so badly to strangle him. 

“And you didn’t want to confront me? Your whole plan was to annoy everyone for the rest of the year to make me annoyed? That’s not a smart plan, Yagami-san,” she scoffed, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I think you’re overcompensating.” 

“For what? I have nothing to overcompensate for when I’m perfectly content,” he pressed his lips together innocently, “But you do. You want to stand out so someone can see you for who you are, but the truth is no one will. They only see your cheesy modeling career and expect something out of you. It’s pathetic, really.” 

With that, Light stepped away and put one hand in his pocket. He looked at her with a softer expression, something he’d wear when walking to class. “This was mentally stimulating,” a small, and confusing to Misa, smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, “Thank you..”

He … Googled her? 

Misa found herself blinking furiously after that, not to hide tears, but to try to comprehend what had just happened, and what she was feeling afterward. Why wasn’t she angry, but interested? That had been the most interesting conversation she had, had in months. At every turn, he said something she didn’t expect, and vice versa. It was different than Eru and him since they would always come to the same conclusion at the end. It was different because they weren’t friends. But why did she want to do that again? It was something she had to unpack. 

Light was smart and cocky about it, something she always hated. In talking to him he didn’t shy away from the truth, instead throwing it in her face. It was something refreshing to hear someone tell her the truth without trying to spare her feelings. Kiyomi was her dearest friend, but she was her friend. Friends weren’t always truthful. He didn’t care. Maybe that’s why she wanted to hear more from him, pick his brain. Figure out what it was that made him tick. Figure out why he was so damn smug. 

As the man turned away and began to walk, she lurched forward and grabbed his arm. It was stupid, it was arguably the most stupid thing she was about to do. But she was craving this kind of conversation. The kind that showed her soul. He never once denied her intellect but poked at her career and her insecurity. Sure, it was a dick move and she would thoroughly make him pay for it. Yet, he never said she wasn’t smart. He never once called her stupid.

“Yagami-san,” she spoke, as he turned his head to look at her with confusion riddled in his expression, “I want to do this again.”

Misa got his number. And she instantly regretted it from the prick smile adorned on his face.

[rabbit-or-rib]

Twiddling my thumbs for a romantic and platonic match up rabbit ur amazing and I adore you

Physical desc - i try my best with mermaidy fashion but majority of the time I hit ppl with the little shirt big pants/skirt combo, I have bleach blonde hair with blue highlights (like lagoona blue!), I'm short :( (5'3) and kinda above average size

Personality desc - I'm a total introvert but also really loud and have been told, socially inept. Cannot read a room to save my life either (got hit with the double whammy of ADHD and autism)

Partner preferences / needs - honestly don't know how to amswer this but y'know Someone nice and something long term :3

🐟!!

SMOOCHING U FISHY I HOPE THIS IS OKAY

Creepypasta ;

R: Toby! would love having someone with some of the same social struggles as him tbh. does it make them better for either of you? no absolutely not, but it makes him feel less weird and alienated and more like he has someone he can relate to on a real level- especially including ADHD/autism !! would also totally love your fashion and get super excited when you decide to go all out mermaid style

P: Nina! she loves your fashion and will totally help you look for new stuff to add to your wardrobe/grab it for you. also could not care less about volume control or social awkwardness, she's the same way just without shame and we love that so much about her in this house

Marble Hornets ;

R: Brian! honestly he can get along with most people, and would probably try and find out any hyperfixations you have to get you to talk more (hopefully) openly. love love loves hearing you get passionate, doesn't care too much if you feel like it comes out a little weird

P: Jessica!! she would totally be understanding about being an introvert that's not the biggest social butterfly lolz, she's happy to listen. thinks your outfits are super cute !! not the biggest fashion typa girl but she is absolutely supporting u

EverymanHYBRID ;

R: Evan! he will ADHD/autism out with you. talking non-stop about whatever tf y'all want. doesn't mind any social awkwardness- have you seen him? complete dork. we love to see it for you. also i can totally see him picking you up and carrying you if you ever get tired of walking in any of your fancy mermaidy outfits

P: HABIT! i don't think he'd really care too much about a lack of social skills- wouldn't really go looking for a reason either. y'all would get along on a idk-how-to-talk-to-people-or-do-it-at-a-'normal'-volume basis, two loud folks bein peculiar together. always great to see.

[thesomewhatliterateaxolotl]

Hi!! Question, since you do a lot of IDs (image descriptions) do you have any resources or tips for someone who wants to start writing them as well? What to pay special attention to, what is irrelevant, checklists etc?

Hi Anon!! This made me so happy to see. I'm glad you're interested in writing ID's!!

It's definitely not as overwhelming as it may seem. I will say I'm still learning myself, but here's my process. I boiled down my steps into a basic checklist to get you started:

Describe the category of image (digital/traditional art, photo, social media screenshot, etc.), unless it's already stated in the post.

Next, the summary. Pretend you're explaining the image to a friend (since that's pretty much the goal). You'll find yourself naturally starting out with the broadest/most obvious things. If it's a drawing or a photo, for example, that'll be the main subject[s] and whatever they're doing: "[Character] holds a bouquet of roses." "A fluffy cat blinks at the camera." OneLook Reverse Dictionary is your friend if you can't find the word for an action or pose.

Then, once you have your super basic one-to-two sentences, you can start on the details. When I'm low on energy or time, I stick to describing the most punchy details of the image: "A heart-shaped frame surrounds the characters. The piece uses pinks and reds." I also found this site for identifying drawing styles. For art, pay attention to color (or lack thereof), presence/absence of line art, and shading. For photos, describe style, mood, and color if you think it's relevant. It might be for artistic photography, not so much for a news article or a meme.*

There are different ways to demarcate your ID. You've probably seen that I use brackets around the description ( [ ] ) and sometimes a slash ( / ) right before writing "end ID." I've heard these aren't required, but lots of people prefer the visual distinction.

Use plain text (normal-sized font, no fancy formatting). You'd think it'd go without saying, but I've seen far too many people write their ID's in tiny font. Bold text at the beginning and end is fine, but that's about it.

Some subjective language is fine for describing mood (melancholy, cheerful, etc.), but don't overdo it. Don't add jokes that aren't in the image itself.

*For fictional characters, I usually only describe their outfits and features if they deviate from canon. For real people, I use my judgement on whether describing these details is relevant: Without those details, would they miss out on something important?

As for what's irrelevant, people have different preferences. I've heard from some blind and low vision people that they prefer really straightforward descriptions, while others prefer the detailed ones because they give them an equal or equivalent experience to what a sighted person would have.

I try to strike a balance, writing shorter descriptions for memes/informational images and longer ones for art. Active voice can help simplify your ID, though this isn't a strict rule.

What I have almost universally heard, though, is this: Even the most basic ID is better than none. If all you can do is a quick one-sentence description, that's ok! You've still opened up a previously inaccessible image to a new audience.

Now for resources:

Image Desc. Guidelines - This helped me out a lot when I started out!

Writing Image Descriptions

Giant Google Doc for Describing Memes

Resource for Video Desc. (I'm still learning how to improve my VD's myself)

Lastly, I know not everyone likes joining discord servers to ask questions, but The People's Accessibility Server is a great resource. (I removed the link because I couldn't find a way to hide my discord # from the invite, and I don't want to just put it out there, but here's this invite via keplercryptid's blog.) You can ask for advice, for someone to review your ID's, or even for someone to write them for you. You can DM me as well if you're comfortable with that.

I hope this is a good starting point for you, anon!! Best of luck <3

[tapwrites]

Experiential Description

As writers, it can be difficult to know what to put in, what to leave out. What to include, what to skip. What is too much detail, what is not enough. We can get carried away describing an object for pages, or setting the scene for what seems like the whole chapter before anything happens. How abstract is too abstract? How concrete is too much?

How can we find the right balance?

Feedback is always a good way of figuring that kind of thing out, dialing things in to balance it just the way we want it. But there's a certain way of looking at writing which gives a whole new dimension to what it means to write, and also helps a lot with this question.

The writer is a transcriber of experience.

Let me explain...

Think about what is happening as a person reads a story. They see text. They turn it into meaning. The meanings string together to form an experience. The experience of being in another world, of observing people doing things, of feeling explosions knock them off their feet, of having their first kiss.

No matter how you look at it, no matter what style we prefer to write in, we are providing the reader with an experience.

Often the experience we want to give is from one of our characters. We call this the "viewpoint" character.

Or it could be from the "viewpoint" of the narrator, a nebulous all-seeing observer from the shadows that only exists for us to see the world through--or more than that if we want to get fancy.

It could even be some theoretical person we imagine in the scene, purely to be able to put ourselves in their place and think about what it would be like to be there--to experience witnessing whatever goes down in the scene.

We want the reader to have that same experience. To know what it's like to be our viewpoint character in this moment, or at least imagine what it would be like to be there in the room when it all goes down.

This is how they immerse themselves in the story; they pretend it's real, and "remember" being there. How? By taking the text and forming such an experience in their own minds.

The better the text reads like an experience the reader could have within your world, the easier it will be to translate the text into an experience. And the easier it will be form them to immerse themselves in the story.

Now, how does that apply to descriptions?

Think about something you have experienced many times: walking into a room.

When you walk into a room, do you pick up on every tiny detail, scan and analyse every "pixel" you see? Or do you glance about and get a general sense for the space? Probably the latter. At least at first.

So which would describe a human experience of entering that room better: a few pages describing every object in the room? Or a brief overview of the space to give the general idea?

It was a small room, lit only by a crack in the curtains at the far end. The walls were dressed in peeling wallpaper of a long out of fashion floral style, and the two armchairs were positioned to try--and fail--to hide old tea stains on the rough carpet beneath.

Now, that might change. If you were stuck in a waiting room for more than a couple of minutes, you'll probably get bored. You could start studying what's around you, looking around for something interesting. Or poking around whatever's there.

There was a mantle on the long wall of the room, covered in plastic nick nacks from cereal boxes and Kinder eggs. Little men with funny hats. Pigs playing golf. A moon with the face of Elvis embossed in it.

So, more detail may come over time. But not as soon as we enter a space.

That's just how human brains generally work. They notice the big obvious things, the things that catch their attention, the things that are different.

A way to sum up this concept is...

What do they notice, and why?

A woman burst into the room, a big floppy yellow hat wobbling about her head as she locked eyes with his.

If there's no reason to notice her shoes, they don't notice her shoes. So don't describe her shoes. Maybe they can't see the bow at the back of her dress. So don't describe the bow.

The temptation is, you've written out a list of details of how this character looks, and you want to use them all. It's easy for that to turn into a list of facts--as it is literally based on your list of facts in your worldbuilding document.

What you want is to step away from that, and think about the experience of the viewpoint character seeing this. Or what the reader would notice if they were in the room.

This woman might be so captivating--or menacing--to the viewpoint character that they just don't take in much else about her in this moment.

Or they may notice only a few smaller details that make her so captivating.

Her steel-grey eyes glared fiercely. It felt like she was boring into his soul with her stare. He gulped.

If she's wearing a lot of jewelry, maybe they notice that. The bigger things are more noticeable, so have them be noticed first. But they don't notice the gun she's holding subtly at her side.

...Unless something brings their attention to it.

She smiled. "With me or without me?" He opened his mouth but couldn't speak. They were hot on his tail, but could he trust her? Who even was she? She tapped a nail on something at her side. He looked down at a small handgun, half hidden in her skirts. Her tone became more urgent. "You coming or what?"

If you want them to notice something, contrive some excuse for them to notice it. Draw their attention to it. Make it enter their experience.

But if there's nothing else that would catch your attention, just stop. That's fine. That's how we work as humans too. We pay attention to what is immediately obviously important, and then our minds wander.

This gives you a nice natural equilibrium for how much detail to put into your descriptions. Match what you'd notice, what you'd care about as the viewpoint character in this moment. Give them that experience through how you describe things.

Another aspect of this is, it is a person's experience. Not the same as the reader's, not the same as the omniscient writer's... it comes from a person within the scene who has their own thoughts and feelings in this moment. And their own thoughts and feelings on what they're observing.

Sure, you can simply describe a sunset in a factual way--"The sun was low, the sky and clouds tinted orange." But if you saw the same sunset when you just proposed and she accepted you'd experience this moment of seeing a sunset very differently to if she'd rejected you.

This is exactly what the idea of "rose-tinted glasses" is all about. The way you feel colours the way you see things.

These thoughts and feelings warp how we see the world, and how we'd describe what we see or even the situation in general. What words would the character use that reflect those inner feelings? Ask yourself...

What does it feel like to see it?

The blood red of the sunset stained the sky. vs The sky blushed as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Reading a description of the same thing makes you the reader feel those different things, doesn't it?

What would you think about what you're seeing?

They were running out of time--the sun was already setting! vs It was so calm here above the canopy, so peaceful as the sun set. There was no way to tell there was a war raging below.

This is a good way of working exposition into the prose, while also grounding the description to something that matters to the story.

What do they notice, and why?

Hills wave across the horizon, villages of people gathering in the crooks of forests. vs The older towns looked run down from here, showing their wear. How many would survive what was to come?

Different characters may notice different things, too. An architect student may dwell on the Elizabethan decorations at the head and foot of the columns nearby. A world weary con man may pick up on the interactions and power plays between people as he passes them by.

There's a classic exercise to practise writing in this way...

Write about one of your characters walking through a space, and then write about a different character walking through the same space. How does their individual interest change how it's written, what they point out? But you can take it a step further. Have characters with different backgrounds or areas of expertise. But also characters in a different frame of mind. Feeling different things. What happened just before that affects how they see their hometown? What are they anticipating will happen when they reach the end of the street? What is happening as they move through the market that makes some things more important to them than others?

As a personal aside, I really like using light in my descriptions. For setting the vibe of a scene:

A brightly lit ballroom in the sun vs A dark gargantuan ballroom, lit by nothing but a sputtering candle

And also for directing attention:

Light glinted off a blade, as he threw a knife that seemed to come out of nowhere!

A cool thing about this whole writer-reader relationship is... they are involved too. We're writing text that they are interpreting into their own version, their own experience.

So while we can't (and shouldn't) give every detail of everything they would sense if they were in our scene... they have their own experiences, their own real memories to draw on. They will naturally fill in the gaps.

We tell them about a run down music hall... and even if we don't explicitly describe it, they can fill in the texture of the wood floor, the sound footsteps make in the empty hall, the smell of decades of parties and dancing sticking to the walls.

And that actually makes it more real to them. Because part of that completely fictional place is made up of completely real places they know.

Those gaps may be filled a little differently. If I say "sports car" you'll easily conjure an image of a sports car, even if it has a different colour, different shape... maybe you have a specific brand or model in mind that I don't.

But whatever they're visualising in their head is way more real than anything you could describe in the text. It has real world physical lighting and reflections, the undulations of the body panels are perfect and beautiful, the colour has a brilliant vibrance in the sunlight, or moonlight, or whatever place the reader put that car in.

And they'll do that for you, make the world more real for you... for free!

There's a saying in horse riding: "Give the horse its head." When terrain is tricky and hard to navigate through when there's a horse in the way so you can't see it... remember that the horse knows how to walk. The horse can see what's down there, and knows how to move over tricky terrain. So don't try to control every step, by pulling their head this way and that... give them some slack, let them do their thing, give the horse its head.

(Note, this is my understanding of it, but I'm not a trained rider.)

The reader knows how to imagine things. The reader knows what a sports car looks like. Don't hold onto their brains so tightly that they get bored of the over-detailed descriptions. Give the reader their head. Let them fill in the gaps.

Now, if you later assume certain things about this sports car, like it's yellow and has a spoiler on the back... it's going to be real awkward for the reader if they've imagined something different when you gave them some wiggle room.

Their brain, even if it's fast and subconscious, has to rewind and playback the scenes with a yellow sports car instead of the red sports car they had in mind. That takes them out of the flow, it breaks the reality of what they were experiencing.

So, don't just leave it wide open to whatever they fancy--define what needs defining, if you rely on some unspoken context be sure to plant it earlier when you first showed them that detail.

(Read more about the idea of context and continuity.)

But also, it's okay for there to be gaps. Let them fill those in with their own imagination and experiences to the table. Let them make it real for themselves.

Metaphor can get to the heart of the vibe.

Descriptions can use metaphor and simile to help indicate these more abstract "vibes."

The car crouched in the old garage, as if ready to spring to life at any moment despite the dirt and dust sheets that covered it. Beside her, her husband snored like an agitated hippo.

Though using metaphor simply to describe the thing isn't so useful.

The car was as red as a rose.

What is that even trying to say? A rose can be red. A car can be red, like a rose can be red. But it's not clear there's anything meant by the metaphor beyond that.

If the meaning you're going for is "it's red," then you can just say that rather than imply there's some deeper meaning that makes the reader scratch their heads trying to interpret it.

In theory you can twist it to have some meaning if you wanted to, with some more context around the description. But without that, it'll only serve to confuse the reader and waste time.

Make sure a metaphor adds to the experience, not just reiterates it.

Verb choice can describe more than the action itself, too. Actions can include metaphor.

Light sliced through the room. Light poured in through the open curtains. Light beat down upon them, making them squint and squirm.

The verbs "sliced," "poured," and "beat" don't really make literal sense. Light "shines," and that's kind of it I guess? But we understand that the light is shining... in a "slicing" kind of way, and so on. These metaphorical verbs give very different impressions of the light, how it feels to see it, or be in it. The verb itself "describes" that feeling, describes an emotion. Makes the action more experiential.

These ideas apply just as well to any description, any scene, any situation really. Think in terms of the experience of being there, and try to give the reader that.

This actually means a more "lossy," incomplete representation than you may think. A representation "tainted" with the person's biases, feelings, all of that stuff--that's what makes it feel like a real experience. Seeing it through their lens. The slight wonkiness we bring to the table as subjective beings.

Real, hard facts don't make it feel more real. It's the ways reality bends to our perception that makes it feel real and grounded. Or to look at it another way, our goal isn't to make the world feel real and concrete, but to...

Make the experience of the world feel real

...by giving the reader concrete details, in the way a person seeing them would see them.

Seeing such descriptions as more than descriptions, as character, as history, as emotion... makes the descriptions part of the story, part of the experience. It has more meaning than a list of facts.

It becomes worth writing, worth studying and finessing. And it becomes worth reading, worth experiencing for the reader. Worth reading.

[airoarts]

Not the anon — But their advice isn’t out of touch with information I’ve heard from people who verifiably need image descriptions, though there’s disagreement about exactly how short descs should be. alt text is not dissimilar from poetry—we have to make decisions about what to describe and when. there are benefits and drawbacks to each approach. one might win in the end, but there will always be room for variation.

i don’t think it should matter whether the anon is visually impaired or not. if we reject reasonable advice just because it didn’t come straight from the mouths of the most affected, we prevent allyship and solidarity. people who need image descriptions are the authorities in this discussion, but given the variety of opinions, it’s also necessary for seeing people to draw their own conclusions, which synthesizes their perspective with others’ perspectives.

A seeing person who dislikes long descriptions will likely agree with the visually impaired people who also dislike them, but that doesn’t nullify the validity of their opinion—it just means we should investigate further.

personally, I have one summarizing sentence at the beginning of my desc and then add subsequent info to paint a more elaborate scene, because screen reader users can exit the desc when they’ve heard enough.

the rising popularity of image description will also create more diversity in style, which will create more disagreement. the discussions that arise from this will help develop the craft. however you decide to write your descriptions, you’re working toward a more accessible internet, and that’s much appreciated. thank you.

I do largely agree with this and like.. this should be very obvious given the fact that i'm a visual artist but I am in fact a seeing person, and i am relatively new to describing images, and am struggling to find the right sort of balance in terms of describing something accurately and not boring people to death with over-detailing, particularly because a TTS thing talking at you will take longer than a seeing person reading a caption. i think the major thing to note here is that this is an art blog, i draw shit by hand, and every detail is intentionally put there, so image descriptions will just... be longer than normal as i try to note anything that might be important to understand the art. you can see that in the sexyman fusion drawing, because there are a lot of details in the design and they all mean something because they are references to the like, 11 characters it's made out of

things i worry about are posts with multiple images with quite a bit of detail, and i do wonder if it would be better to post art individually with image descriptions in mind, because accurately describing multiple pieces of artwork without being long as hell is... very tough

i will continue to try to work better at making image descriptions. much to think about.

[sarang-archer]

🚨!!! PLEASE RB !!! TRYING TO ESCAPE ABUSIVE HOUSEHOLD !!! 🚨

tw for medication, parental abuse, transphobia //

opening up something new with these commissions while I try to get diagnoses for my ADHD/depression/etc (that I wasn’t allowed by my family to screen for), as well as getting through undergrad at my university, and hopefully get an apartment somewhere away from my abusive household !! please consider commissioning me, or sharing this post if you can’t !!

I also have the classic commissions open, with both digital and traditional mediums (here is an example of the invisible ink/glowing ink).

image descs in the read-more

Contact Info Instagram: @sarangarcher Ko-Fi: ko-fi.com/sarangarcher PayPal + work email: sa.contact@yahoo.com (FASTEST) Pillowfort: pillowfort.social/sarang-archer Tumblr: @sarang-archer​ (FASTEST) Twitter: @sarang_archer Venmo: venmo.com/sarangarcher

[ID: A series of drawings on a green background, detailing sarang-archer’s commission info for animated artwork. The first doodle of a stylized fox says “Help me get out of an lgbt+ phobic household !!!”, and it is waving a trans flag. An arrow pointing to the first doodle says, “Korean-American”. 

In the second image, a stylized fox-boy with long, black hair and blue bangs, as well as a long coat and tie, is smoothly animated in the head and left arm, which is pointing up to the “Animated Commissions” title bar on a green background. The base prices for the animated commissions are “Bust: $20, Half-Body: $40, and Full-Body: $65″. At the very bottom, text reads: “Base prices are in USD.” Some other arrows are pointing to the animated fox-boy, saying “8fps!” and “this style!”, using the animated fox-boy as an example.

The third image is split in half vertically, and is mostly text on a green background, with “OK:” and “NOT OK:” in green and red colors respectively. Under the OK column, a list of 5 things are allowed to be drawn: “furry/anthro/humanoid, fan art, diverse body types, original characters, (18+) pinups/suggestive”. Underneath the list is some social medias, with variances on “Sarang-Archer”. Under the NOT OK column, a list of 3 things are not allowed to be drawn: realistic gore, bigoted imagery/text, explicit NS.F.W/fetish”.

The last image is a photograph of an arrangement of art materials, labelled in white: invisible ink, washi tape, alcohol markers, glow paint, and gold leaf. /end ID]

[zeroweeenies]

“Checkmate”

Desc: you and megumi play a “game” after your date plans get cancelled from the blizzard.

Character(s): Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

an: whichever anon requested this I hope you see this ♡

94: “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to”

98: “First one to make noise loses”

126: “Y-you’re not wearing anything under that are you?”

WARNINGS: 69-ing, reverse cowgirl, mirror fucking, anal mentioned, competitive reader, not proof read, aged up megumi, 18+ minors dni

The snowstorm had ruined all of your plans.

You and your boyfriend had been planning this date for your two year anniversary for weeks now, so you were disappointed when you found that your car was snowed in on the sidewalk. The city buses and trains were out of service as well, and cab services refused to travel in the frigid weather.

You were on the brink of tears before you felt Fushiguro approach you from behind and wrap his arms around your waist.

“I’m sorry baby, we can order out if you want.” he speaks into the crook of your neck

You push back the tears that were welling in your eyes “I was really looking forward to this ‘Gumi, do you know how long we’ve been talking about this? Tonight was important.”

It was true. You managed to get a reservation at one of the most renowned restaurants in the city. It also didn’t help that you put on your most expensive attire, a silken black dress that stopped just above your knee with a back that sloped down to the top of your bum and the neckline resting at the top of your breasts.

You even made efforts to do your makeup and style your hair neatly.

“And it’s all ruined because of this stupid storm,” you kicked your foot at the wall and crossed your arms in true brat frashion.

Megumi took a deep breath before speaking again. “Well it doesn’t have to be completely ruined. How ‘bout we watch some tv?” he suggested “Order some food, hm? I know you’re hungry” he planted kisses to shoulder and neck whilst rubbing your hip tenderly.

“Tch, whatever.” you stated, walking off to wherever.

Poor Megumi. He just wanted to make his girlfriend happy despite the unfortunate circumstances they found themselves in, and here she was being a brat.

The dark haired boy rubbed the area between his eyes and loosened his tie before taking out his phone to call the pizza delivery service.

You were sitting in the living room watching tv, legs sprawled across the length of the couch with your head in Megumi’s lap when you heard the doorbell ring. “I’ll get it!” you sprung up from your position on the couch, sprinting to the door.

When you open the door, you’re met with the pizza delivery guy.

“Thanks.” you grab the box from his hands containing the food. “How much do I owe you?” you avert your gaze

The male in front of you scans his eyes up and down your body, taking in your appearance. His eyes land on your breasts before speaking again. “It’s on the house,” he smiles nervously. “You look stunning. Can I have your number?”

You can’t even finish your next sentence before you feel a looming presence behind you, gripping the side of your waist firmly.

“She does look beautiful doesn’t she?” Megumi kisses the side of your cheek possessively, causing your face to heat up. “Anyways thanks for the free pizza, man” he smiles as the driver protests before slamming the door.

You stroll back to the couch, scolding Megumi for being rude. “You didn’t have to close the door in his face.”

“Are you really defending him? He was clearly trying to hit on you.”

“Yeah, but he was sweet” you smile, taking a bite from your food before you feel a stiff grip around your neck.

“Oh yeah?” he turns your face to meet his glare. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to, bunny.”

You smile up at him “Don’t threaten me with a good time babe.” He releases your neck, turning his attention to the tv.

“You’re such a damn brat.” he chuckles to himself, finally taking a slice of pizza into his mouth.

“Mmm, but you love it” you reply cheekily, snuggling under his arm to get warm.

It felt like hours had passed, and you felt yourself growing bored. You complain to Megumi next to you, who was on the verge of sleep.

“How about we play a game?”

A game? You wondered what he had in mind.

“A sex game. It would be just like all the other times we’ve done it, with a few rules in place of course.”

You sat up to look at him “What are the rules?”

Megumi was interested now. He smirked before explaining the stipulations. “First one to make noise loses. Breathing is allowed, but if you breathe too loud you lose. Cursing is allowed as well.”

“And what do I get if I win?” you pique.

“What is it that you want?” You reflected over the question. There was a stuffie that you really wanted that you saw at the mall the other day, or you could make your boyfriend do something embarrassing. And there was always the option of making him do house chores for a certain period of time.

You think over it a while longer before the perfect idea pops into your head “If I win, I want to dom you.”

Megumi always fulfilled the dominant role in the bedroom, forcing you to always submit to him, bending you to his every will. As much as you enjoyed letting him take control, you sought to bring him to his knees.

“Okay.”

Your eyes widen, surprised by his answer. “You’re sure?”

He nods his head “Yeah. I don’t mind playing subby for you. But I still haven’t said what I wanted yet.”

Your eyebrow ticked up. You knew it was almost too good to be true. Your heart raced in anticipation over what Megumi could possibly want as his prize.

“Anal. If I win, I get to fuck you in the ass.”

Your mouth gaped open at the request. It’s not like you were uncomfortable with his request. Hell, you and Megumi were always trying new things in the bedroom. The most he’s done was stick his tongue in your ass. But full on butt stuff was a whole new territory for you.

Megumi encouraged you to step out of your comfort zone, but he’d never pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to do. If there was something you didn’t like and you wanted him to stop he’d stop immediately, no questions asked.

“Okay,” you swallowed. “When does the game start?”

“Now” Megumi stated, attacking your lips hungrily. You were overwhelmed by the kiss, running out of breath as he pulled you into his lap.

You ran your fingers through his unusually styled hair, tugging lightly as he ground his hips up to meet your cunt. Megumi could feel your naked heat against his pants, causing him to let out a shaky breath.

“Y-you’re not wearing anything under that are you?” Megumi breaks the kiss, breath ragged as he stares down at where your bodies collide.

“Nope,” you state, popping the ‘p’ as you connect your lips with his jawline.

You were completely naked save the dress you were wearing in hopes that Megumi would fool around with you under the table at your date, but of course that plan was out of mind now.

Sucking bruises into Megumi’s neck, he trails his hand down to your already dripping slit to get you to moan, caressing your clit in small circles.

You nearly mewl at the sensation, almost forgetting the rules of the game. You knew what he was trying to do, but you weren’t going to let him win that easily.

“‘Gumi come on, I need it.” you rocked your hips against him, desperate for him to stop toying with you.

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, princess” he slows the motions on your clit tantalizingly, groping your breast with the straps of your dress falling off your shoulders.

“Fuck me, make me cum. Do something, anything, please.” In one swift motion, Megumi picks you up and carries you into the bedroom, practically throwing you onto the bed.

Situating himself on the bed, he pats his lap, a quiet gesture that you’re familiar with.

You bit your lip, turning your body until your pussy was angled right in front of his face.

You gripped his hard on through his pants that were already stained with precum, earning a whispered “fuck” from him.

You took his dick out, licking the tip before taking him all the way in your warm mouth.

Megumi threw his head back continuing to toy with your clit under your dress.

You were sucking him so good, taking his cock all the way to the back of your throat while vacuuming your cheeks. You bobbed your head up and down, gagging each time you felt his length touch your esophagus.

With Megumi’s strangled grunts and the way you were sucking him you were sure that you were going to win, until you felt his mouth on you.

Fushiguro’s cock slipped from your mouth as he sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around his mouth. The way he ate you felt so good, your orgasm already coiling in your lower belly.

Megumi was a fighter and he was playing to win, but so were you. As good as it felt, you weren’t going to let him have this, especially when you were so close to winning.

His cock twitched in your mouth, signaling that he was close. You sucked him harder, faster, your hand fisting him in an effort to get him to cum quicker.

Knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer, Megumi pulled you off of him by your hair, a string of drool connecting your mouth to his cock.

He positioned himself behind you, rubbing his length up and down your glistening folds.

“Can’t have you ending the game early, now can I?”

“You’re a dirty fucking chea-” you managed to get out as he plunged into you, his fat head grazing your cervix.

Your eyes shut from the sudden penetration, your mouth open with saliva running down your chin as Megumi thrusts in and out of you roughly, the only sounds filling the room being silent curses and the lewd squelches of your sloppy cunt.

“Look at you, what a desperate little cockslut,” he pulls your head up to face the mirror that sits in front of your bed, your ruined makeup on display. “Look at how I fuck you, only I can fuck you like this,” you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, Megumi pulling your hair harshly making your back arch at a painful angle.

“You gonna cum? Come on baby, cum for me so I can win. I’m dying to fuck this little ass”

You push him off of you causing him to fall back on his elbows. “Shut the fuck up.” You slide up and down him at the new angle, your ass bouncing beautifully as Megumi lets out a slew of curses from behind you.

Your victory felt so close as you felt his cock twitch inside you, milking him for all he was worth. Your win was snatched from you, feeling Megumi’s thumb press inside your asshole, causing you to let out a shriek.

“Checkmate,” Megumi sits up and begins to drill your cunt, your breasts bouncing as he ruthlessly fucks into your hole.

“Y-you cheated,” you sniffle, tears brimming your eyes as you realize your loss.

“Awww, don’t be a sore loser baby, you lost fair and square.” he drags his cock out of you before slamming back into you, every thrust making you cry out more than the last.

“Now cum for me like a good girl” he reaches forward to pinch your clit, making you cum instantly.

The moans you had been holding back the entire time spill out, the aftershocks of your orgasm crashing over you. Megumi pulls out, shooting his seed on your back. You sink into the mattress, sobbing over the realization of your defeat.

“Don’t cry pretty girl,” He smiled breathlessly.

“I haven’t even claimed my prize yet.”

[arminssseashell]

Aot characters and their reactions to you with a new cat/dog

Desc: The Aot cast and what they do when you come home with a new cat/dog

Warnings: none

Pairings: Eren x gn!reader, Armin x gn!reader, Levi x gn!reader, Jean x gn!reader, Mikasa x gn!reader, Annie x gn!reader

Eren:

•He might freak out— but in a good way

•He won’t even let you sit down or anything, he would just snatch it away from you

•After they warm up to each other, that’s when he will ask you the questions

•“When did you get him/her? Did she cost a lot?”

•If it’s a cat then he might not be very attached to it because he’s more of a dog person imo

•But if it’s a dog— that ain’t your guys’ pet, that’s 𝘩𝘪𝘴

•He would let it warm up to him of course but despite the type of animal, it’s gonna be his new favorite thing

•If you two don’t sleep together, he’s obv gonna snatch that thing and keep it in his bed, along with it’s food because he loves it so much

•But it’s gonna be your job to take it outside, no matter how many times you both argue about it (if it’s a dog)

•The pet will end up hating him at some point tbh

•Like it would just be laying down and Eren would get all up in its face

•It probably bit him at some point, too

•But other than that, Eren would be overjoyed!

Armin:

•Like Eren, Armin would be very excited!

•Although instead of Eren, he would let you get everything situated before he meets the new pet

•I hc him as a cat person, so if you brought home a cat he would probably love it even more than a dog

•But either way he would still let you be it’s favorite because he would get too attached otherwise

•If you both sleep in different beds, he would let the pet sleep with you as well unless you aren’t home. Then he would most likely let it sleep on his floor or in the living room

•He offers to take the pet outside for you most of the time (if it’s a dog) because “his s/o shouldn’t have to do things like that”

•Armin also offers to wash the pet for you because he actually kind of enjoys it??

•Sometimes you would come home to him and see him asleep on the couch/in his bed and snuggling with the pet

•He then gets mad because you took pictures

•But he secretly likes it

Levi:

•Like Armin, he’s probably better being called a cat person. He’s more fond of cats because they’re elegant and that’s kind of his style

•So, if you happen to come home to him with a cat, he won’t seem very excited, but he’s actually quite happy about it

•At first he’d hesitate to show any affection, but when it’s just with you or by himself he’d smile at it and give it a few pats

•But if it’s a dog, he won’t really be fazed

•Dogs tend to be messy so he might “hate” you afterwards

•Not because he’s a total clean freak, which he kind of is, but because they require a lot of attention which he doesn’t really want to show

•If you get a pet cat, he might be a bit more delighted if it didn’t have much fur so it doesn’t shed. If it’s a dog, the same goes for it

•If you happen to get a dog, though, chances are that the only way he would give it the tiniest of love is if it was a chill dog

•Other than that, he may help you take care of it, like feeding it and bathing it, but other than that you’re on your own

•But he wouldn’t completely hate the pet despite the type, he isn’t that type of person

•What he 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 do, though, is scold you for bringing home a pet without him knowing

Jean:

•Okay, I wasn’t really ever attracted to him enough to write about him but whatever

•He would be more excited if it were a bigger dog rather than a small one

•Same goes for if it’s an adult dog rather than a puppy

•He wants someone to be rough with, so if you brought home a smaller pet then his hopes would go down the drain

•He would give you the same look as when he rubbed his hand on Connie’s back in that one scene

•But later on he would still try to give the pet the love it deserves because who doesn’t love a nice pet?

•He might help take it out on walks and stuff because he wants to see if it would play— if it doesn’t then he just wants it to get familiar with him

•He would also do almost all of the pet work until it finally likes him to the point where it follows him around

•But yeah, he wouldn’t be too disappointed if you brought home a new pet!

Mikasa:

•She would stay calm and collected about it

•She wouldn’t rush to meet the new pet— she would just let it go to her

•I hc that she used to have a pet when she was younger, so she already knows what to do and what not to do with one

•Since I see her more as a cat person, she would be a bit disappointed if you brought home a dog

•She would probably steer clear of it

•But then one day you’d just see her come home with sunglasses on, dog in her purse with it’s own pair of sunglasses, and just struttin down the hallway (bc she’s a queen obv)

•You may be a bit confused at first, but just let her do her thing. This is a rare you see her have fun

•She would suggest taking turns caring for the pet so it’s fair, and so it gets equally amount of attention from both of you

•She might post it on Instagram and be like “new child” or sum

•But yeah, she would be more calm about it

•But like Levi, she might confront you about it

Annie:

•Pretty much like Mikasa except she would take longer to warm up to the pet

•I hc that she also used to have a pet when she was younger— a cat— and so she would be a bit more familiar if you happened to bring home one

•She wouldn’t mind a dog, but she might not give it much attention

•It’s def sleeping with you, regardless of the animal

•I feel like she might actually try to avoid it because she’s just kinda shy and awkward like that

•It’s like handing a baby to someone— you don’t really know what to do with it

•So you just sit there with the baby in your arms, awkwardly looking around the room

•Yeah that’s how Annie is with a pet

•Basically she wouldn’t be happy or sad about it— she’s just… neutral

•I don’t really know what else to put about Annie but yeah, that’s about it lmao

A/n: thanks for reading!! Making my masterlist rn

Tags:

[fadistans]

BLUE LOCK 153 SPOILERS

Predictions for which big five euro league the Blue Lock/U20 boys are gonna choose except these are all 4am rambles!! (Scan creds to RayugaX101 on twitter)

predictions under the cut because they’re too long

note: ego doesn’t mention specific leagues so I’m mostly gonna go off the descs they get but I’ll try to use my own knowledge on the existing 1st division football leagues

ENGLAND

- speed and physical plays

- Premier League

Chigiri - I mean obviously he’s all about the speed, and honestly I think it’ll be pretty interesting to see his speed against pros/in the international sphere.

Eita - His playstyle is based around speed and stealth

Zantetsu - he’s a speedster… what else do I say…

Barou - his strength in football definitely comes from his physical strength and physique

Kunigami?

Aryuu and Gagamaru - they depend a lot on their long limbs and they normally get goals and trap by having longer limbs than their opponents

Other possible options could be Bachira and Yukimiya, because dribbling includes both speed and technique.

SPAIN

- techniques & creative plays

- La Liga

Bachira - He already has dozens of dribbling techniques practically mastered, so I’d love to see him learn even more and up his aresenal.

Nagi - His whole play style is creative trapping, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he opted for Spain.

Rin - I’ve been saying this for a while but it’s obvious that Rin would go to Spain to try and beat his brother again, especially without Isagi this time.

Yukimiya - Similar to Bachira, he’s an incredibly talented dribbler and he’d definitely benefit from learning with international/professional influence.

Shidou - He’s really creative and innovative with his play style, and he’d probably go to spain to chase sae too.

ITALY

- tactics, slyness and cattenacio (door bolt/super strong defense)

- Serie A

Karasu - He’s the tactic genius of Blue Lock, and his understanding of strategy was shown when he was chosen as defensive midfield in the U20 match and also shown when he tried to psyche Isagi out in the third selection match.

Reo - I’m not super sure for Reo but considering his always above average skills, the best way he could break out from that is by becoming a tactician. He’s already shown promise in the U20 match and he could definitely utilise his chameleon-like style better if he knew when exactly he could use it.

Eita - His play style is definitely very stealthy

U20 Defenders - we could probably assume most of the u20 defenders will go for the Italian option because it’s shown to be the option for defenders. Also, Aiku was said to have been offered a starting position in a Serie A club during his introduction, so logically he’d probably go to Italy.

GERMANY

- rational & logical plays

- Bundesliga

Hiori - He’s well known for being an anchor that can control the field among the chaos of the other players and can remain calm enough to find the best possible next move, or in other words, so being improving rationality fits his well

Niko - His play style largely depends on his ability to analyse the players and apply the info using logic and rational to predict what will happen next, so I definitely think he’d choose the German option.

Isagi - I mean it’s pretty obvious he’s going to join this one, not because of his skills, but because how the german league is described. He’s one of the most analytical and rational players in blue lock, so he’d definitely joking the german league. He’s probably going to try and follow in the footsteps of his idol Noel Noa.

Kunigami - We know practically nothing about kunigami now except for the fact that he’s probably gone through some major shit. Wild card has probably conditioned him to think in the german way of football, in terms of goal scoring being the only thing that matters. I think maybe if kunigami goes to Germany we’ll get to see a more of him again because of the proximity with Isagi?

FRANCE

- new and upcoming rookies who want to make it big in the football world

- constant cashflow

- Ligue 1

I’m actually… not sure who will join the french side ngl… maybe sendou because he wants fame and money but i can’t really think of blue lock characters that do it for the money…

[griimhilde-a]

if you know, you know.

———       a response to those who refuse to move on.

EDIT: after some encouragement and realizing that, while i tried to be respectful and private about this situation, i was not given the same treatment, i’ve decided to be upfront and filterless. here is a link to my page of receipts that i did not provide in this post. 

i would like to point out that when i made the DNI, it was buried and sandwiched in my super long rules purposely so that it wasn’t explicitly visible and drawing attention. it was specifically put there for mutuals to understand my boundaries for the new blog, and as soon as i moved blogs, my guidelines underwent heavy reconstruction and the DNI section was removed overall ( i don’t like DNIs for myself ), as well as on this blog. all statements made in the DNI were what i felt to be true and based off of not only my experiences, but others’ as well, backed up with evidence i have saved that i didn’t feel the need to provide because it wasn’t meant to be a big deal, but i also felt i needed to explain why this person was on a DNI and that it wasn’t done out of malicious intent. again, if something sounds bad it is because “bad” things were done and i can’t control that.

reading the call-out had me ( and others ) confused on where it was i had bullied her, when i had her blocked since november, where it was i had manipulated her, and so forth. i’m always wanting to be a better person, so i was extremely confused on where i had done anything wrong. i also didn’t appreciate my new blog url being attached to it as it had nothing to do with it and i was trying to move forward, and it read very much like an attempt to blacklist. despite everything, i never wanted it to be a spectacle. the pinned, public call-out by this person doesn’t read to me as someone wanting to move on, but wanting to drag things further. this is not a call-out post, this is me defending myself. i will not name drop. if you know who this is about, i ask you just read this to understand the full story. 

this is going to be a long boi ( i really tried to keep it short but alkfjdklfksldf nope ). i would also like to apologize for any dryness here, but i am aiming to just state facts as they are. it feels    ----    ridiculous writing this all out because it’s something that could and should have been handled privately. but, here we go !!

everything on the DNI is true. i will not post or reveal the sources because one, they are not my stories to tell, and two, i am not going to give her the excuse to bother them. they deserve to be safe, and i am walking proof of what happens when you speak out against someone like her. if i have to bear that burden, then so be it. 

it stopped being about “just a url” a long time ago. it became more about how i was treated in that interaction, and how i was continued to be treated afterwards. not to mention the increasing tension within the rpc and having to second-guess whether or not i was truly wanted. it was about how it was affecting those around me, my time in a hobby i love, and my mental health. the amount of times a mutual has tagged me by accident when they meant to tag her is insane. it most definitely did not feel good !!! if that kept happening, it was a problem. i also had to shut off the anon feature because of the amount of anons i was receiving. some had good intentions, but others had resorted to hate. 

regarding the messages on discord --- i stand by them. i thought if you were friends with someone on discord and have previously talked over time, it was okay to message, otherwise what was the point of discord? i didn't realize it would make her uncomfortable to do so, and i’m more careful about how i approach people now !!! 

regarding the messages: there was no change in tone other than that i grew exhausted and extremely anxious ( shaking !!! palms sweaty !!! knees weak !!!! mom’s spaghetti !!! ) and wasn’t in the proper mindset to sound happy while i was being invalidated to my face. i have even apologized there if i came off as mean. i don’t “present myself” in a way. that’s just how i talk, i prefer communicating one-on-one and i try to alleviate tension that arises no matter what because these types of conversations aren’t always a walk in the park. i wanted things to be good and not stressful for all parties involved. i’m sorry my tone came off as insincere. after being in desc rpc for a year, i was a little surprised seeing a near-identical url so i think it was fair for me to message her about it. she made the decision use it, and i was allowed to react. it was said misspellings in urls made her anxious so i wanted to help and i was shot down and vilified, essentially told i made her feel unsafe and shouldn’t have messaged. if it wasn’t okay to claim i felt “unsafe” and “paranoid”, why was it okay for her to claim the same based on a choice she made herself, but not me to feel anxious about those choices? 

i have never told a blog to block her. i have never initiated conversation about her, nor have i spoken negatively about her as a person. ever. i have, in fact, even stated that i didn’t want anyone blocking and that it would be okay to interact. here’s one example after i was approached about her. i cannot control what other people do.

hardblocking her on my end was to avoid seeing her on dash as much as possible. 

i am allowed to softblock / unfollow people who interact with her after months of trying to be okay with it. what kickstarted this process was someone i thought was a close friend had dropped me and suddenly i realized i didn’t need to sacrifice my comfort for the sake of keeping a mutual. if they could do it, so could i. while i adore the descendants rpc, the rpc is not a family, we’re not obligated to interact IC or be mutuals with every single person in the rpc. it’s not causing a rift when we don’t interact on dash. i have even emphasized that i would love to stay in contact via discord and write there if possible !! why am i being vilified for trying to make my blog a safe space for me?

regarding the “vagues”: they were all responses. a mutual wrote the post, i reblogged it, my tags were in response to the post ( said mutual’s url wasn’t even blocked out so ... ). if it felt like a vague, i can’t control that. the meaning behind the url post was circulating on dash, i didn’t see any vaguing in it other than me recounting my process of choosing this url, which was true ( was i not allowed to participate?? ). the shrek meme was in response to a public dash event ( which i originally thought was a joke ) that had received copious amounts of criticism for. it wasn’t a vague and it was explicit on what it was referring to, it was meant to be silly dash commentary, nothing deep. 

this is in my rules but i have explicitly stated that my headcanons about my characters are not a vague if they differ from yours. the talk about hair styles was actually initiated in a conversation with my friends in private. it had absolutely nothing to do with her. if it sounded like a drag, i encourage everyone to look at how i’ve “dragged” many other things including the original outfits for descendants, evie thinking mermaid dresses are ugly, evie not liking wine, and so forth. my portrayal of evie =/= other portrayals of evie. while she may never do so-and-so, it doesn’t make it wrong for another portrayal to do it. ( why was my blog being kept tabs on and compared with, in the first place? that’s not duplicate friendly ).

regarding sex week: i've stated it was an inappropriate event because the descendants rpc had been heavily criticized for smutting and felt it wasn't the best response, nor was it the best way to promote sex positivity. it was insanely uncomfortable to witness, as someone in this rpc. it doesn’t matter if the people or the muses involved were adults, i would still call it inappropriate had it happened in any other rpc. it wasn’t a “block and move on” situation. i’m also allowed to defend myself because i didn’t want to be associated with something she posted. i didn’t want it tied to my url. i would like to clarify that when i said "embarrassing" in the responses under that anon, it was directed at the anon for misreading the url, nobody else. ostracizing occurred when the descendants rpc was being added to DNIs because of sex week / smutting, which was posted by this person ( if you post it, you start it. simple ). i had been blocked simply because i am a descendants blog and that had never happened before. 

i was also notified that people uninvolved with this have been namedropping me on dash in an attempt to have me “written off” ( their words, not mine ) because my rules stated that i was open to exploring evie’s sexuality. below is a screenshot of my rule regarding smut. i deleted the rules page from this blog when i moved so i snatched it from my other canon descendants blog that i reuse on all blogs. the second is my elaboration on sexual content in my new evie rules. the third is what’s on my google doc, a condensed version of my rules. there is a major difference between smutting and posting a public dash event dedicated to sex versus being open to explore sexuality as a topic. they are not the same. also, me not choosing to smut does not dictate my opinion on smut, so do not make assumptions about that either. if you want to move on, why are you still talking about me on dash, especially when unprompted? if you just want to move on, why are you upset that i’m not “written off”?

this person has vagued me multiple times ( which they conveniently did not show in the call-out ), this person has been shown to talk badly of me in private ( and now, publicly as well )    ----    all of which i have not done. i have screenshots sent by others to show for it, but do not feel it’s relevant to share because this is not about her. this is just about defending myself. 

i have spent three months apologizing for feeling things, apologizing for reacting, apologizing for things i should not have been apologizing for. i have spent so long accepting blame because i felt it would help. i’m done doing that. i know what i did and what i didn’t do. people know what i did and didn’t do.

all in all, i am confused on why a call-out was made when the content provides nothing other than catty remarks meant to air out personal drama. the messages exchanged only show how i tried to remedy things. the screenshots of my “vagues” were just responses, and most of which had nothing to do with this person. my initial silly dash commentary and later discomfort over a sexual dash event posted by this person is not a vague. 

if you ( referring to maker of the call-out and others who partook ) are upset about people not talking about me in regards to the “rest of the call-out”, maybe consider the fact that there was nothing about me in it that warranted a call-out in the first place. people saw that i did nothing wrong. the only thing of substance in the call-out was something the maker themselves did : the public, sexual dash event. people are allowed to identify that as a more prominent issue as opposed to how my messages or public posts could be perceived through basic, biased narrative manipulation.

me deciding to unfollow / softblock blogs that interact with this person =/= involving the descendants rpc or making it public. i am allowed to softblock whoever i want to cultivate my dash experience. most people i know have it in their rules that they are okay with people softblocking for their comfort and that it won’t be taken personally. you know what IS making it public and involving the entire descendants rpc? this person messaging a descendants server and name dropping me in the server, reducing the situation to just being about a “url” and publicly announcing it in the server. here are the facts to consider: her message was sent jan. 21. my DNI went up feb 2. 

so, regarding the call-out: there was no bullying, no manipulation, no harassment, no gaslighting, nothing from my end, and the call-out shows precisely that the claims are just that: claims. whatever was felt is valid, but feelings =/= gravity of the actual action itself - the most common thing pointed out in therapy: feelings are valid, but are they justified? call-outs should be reserved for people who cause actual harm, not because someone wants an excuse to blacklist. if i am a “bully” for unfollowing blogs for my own comfort, then i think the rpc really needs to reevaluate what these terms mean because the misuse is harmful. 

here are the things i did do: treated everyone i talked to with respect. approached things civilly. communicated. tried to accommodate for others. attempted to make a safe space for myself. did not involve the entire rpc by announcing it in a server. did not make a call-out post nor pin it. did not continue to name drop afterwards despite claiming to want to move on.

this entire situation is absurd and should have never been public, much less made a call-out for !! while this was meant to defend myself and state facts, i understand it may not change minds. a friend has told me that people will hate me because they want to hate me, no matter what. and i can’t do anything about that !! all i have to say is that holding hate in your heart never ends well. i hope everyone can find peace at some point.

so please, let me move on. let me write with my friends. let me unfollow / softblock people to keep my dash comfortable. let me take a break from descendants while also having the choice to return at anytime. please stop talking about me when i’m not even giving this another thought and haven’t since i moved blogs. please stop name dropping. stop keeping tabs on me, stop stalking my new blog. please leave me alone. i hold absolutely nothing against anyone i may have softblocked / unfollowed or am not currently interacting with on my new blog. my IMS / discord is always available, you will not be violating my safety by messaging me, everyone is welcome, but i also understand if you feel the need to separate yourself !!! as for those of you who have interacted with the call-out post, i wish you the best but i hope you understand why i do not want to interact with you by any means in the future. 

i’m hoping this post lays everything to rest, seeing as my first one did not. honestly, what are you trying to prove if you still have to post about this? it helps nobody. this back-and-forth is exhausting and unneeded. no more. let’s be better people, yeah?

i hope everyone takes care of themselves, i hope you all have a great day / night !!! thank you for reading this long boi !!

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 05.2 | thomas jefferson

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

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

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

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

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

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudywlw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow  @siriusorionblackiii— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And how do you spell that?"

"Like you've never written it before?"

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

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

"Your order will be out shortly."

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

"I'll keep it in mind."

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

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

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

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

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

"Mm-hmm."

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

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

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

"Enjoy your food, Secretary Jefferson."

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

"Gave it my best guess."

"I'm sure you did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, please."

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

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

"Oh, Y/N!"

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

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

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

"You and me both."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll need it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your prerogative, Doll."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But he's the candidate."

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

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

"Who said Thomas was the standard?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We'll see about that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What was zat?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I..."

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

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

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

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

"Somethin' like that."

She furrowed her brow. "Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't tempt me."

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

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

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

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

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

"Glad you follow.".

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes widened. "How old is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled. "Do I, now?"

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

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

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

"You think I sound like that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How truly self-sacrificing."

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

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's nothin'."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes widened. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn't respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm just saying!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'd really rather not say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Once or twice, I guess."

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

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

"How exactly would the relationship hurt your career?" Angelica asked. "You're being too vague."

"First off, it’s not a relationship," Y/N corrected her, bordering on exasperated. “He’s just hot. It’s not that deep.”

"Yeah, fine. Don't avoid the question."

There was a skip. Y/N chewed her bottom lip, considering. "I mean... it wouldn't destroy my career or anything. If something went bad, though, or I ended up burning a bridge, it'd get real awkward real fast."

"How often do you see him?" Alex spoke up that time, still appearing to be fixated on dissecting every detail of the situation. His eyes were narrowed, and Y/N ignored how his question was more probing than in an effort to help.

"I dunno," she shrugged, exhaled softly. "I've seen him at the past couple of events I've covered, and I've been seeing more of him outside of work ever since Detroit."

"Ever since Detroit," he repeated, a knowing smile growing on his lips. Y/N's stomach dropped. He couldn't know who she was talking about, right? He'd have looked absolutely appalled if he suspected anything close to the truth, or so she hoped. He chuckled. "You've really been denying being into Lafayette this whole time, and now you're asking us for advice on whether you should screw him?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up. "Hang on--"

"Oh my God, you're right," Angelica agreed, eyes wide, and Eliza cocked her head to the side, looking as though she thought the idea was more than reasonable. "The whole situation makes perfect sense."

"No, wait, I'm not--"

"First the gala, and then Detroit," Alex continued, undeterred by Y/N's pleas of innocence. "And 'seeing him more often outside of work'? You just spent a week sleeping at Laf's apartment. You'd have had more than enough opportunities to bone."

"That explains why you were so anxious to find a place!" Eliza looked fully convinced of the theory, by then, and Y/N groaned. "It would get awkward quickly if you tried to screw him and then keep living at his apartment for weeks afterward."

"You guys, I'm not fucking Lafayette."

"Not yet, anyway." Angelica grinned. "That's why you wanted advice, right?"

"And you were out with him last night!" Alex's eyes flashed victoriously. "The timing only makes perfect sense."

Y/N scowled. "Y'know what? It doesn't matter who you think it is."

"Sounds like an admission--"

"But," she cut Alex off with a pointed glare. "You have all the relevant information, and I still really need some input."

Her three friends shared a glance, all looking rather pleased. It was Eliza who finally spoke.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Y/N." Her voice was soft, reassuring. "Any relationship, professional, platonic, or otherwise, can go wrong without sex ever being an aspect of it. You can't let the inevitable risk hold you back from the things you want."

Y/N was silent another moment; she couldn't help but feel that the advice was colored by their unfortunate theory of who was behind her sudden need for advice on her sex life.

"Besides," Angelica added, "If you're seeing him at the campaign events you cover and outside of them, the sexual tension's just gonna make it weird until you bang it out." She rolled her eyes at the crude guidance, and Angelica just shrugged at the weak glare she gave her, taking another sip of her drink.

"This sounds like suspicious logic."

"She's kinda right, Y/N," Alex agreed, nodding to Angelica. "It's awkward now, and the worst-case scenario after you two fucked would be awkwardness later on. Nothing to lose."

"I never said it was awkward now," she protested, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Is it?" He took her lack of a response as an answer in the affirmative.

She huffed at how smug he looked. "Most of this advice only applies if it's Lafayette."

"Perfect."

"Alex," she seethed, her tired glare burning into his nonchalant expression. "What about giving me some advice for the off-chance I just might not be referring to him, hm?"

Angelica shrugged. "The same doctrine follows, doesn't it? There's always a risk, and it's already awkward."

There was truth to her words. However, what Y/N hadn't and couldn't have shared was exactly how it would reflect on both her and the man in question if anyone were to find out they were sleeping together -- the Republican frontrunner screwing his most outspoken critic. She knew it'd raise eyebrows, she knew it would hurt both their careers, but was the risk real enough that it was worth placing at the crux of her decision?

Eliza was the one who eventually pulled her from her train of thought, reaching out to squeeze her arm reassuringly. "Hey. We support you no matter what decision you make, but it really seems like there isn't a downside to going for what you want here."

"Yeah?" Her voice was quiet.

"Yeah." She lifted her eyes to meet Eliza's gaze as she continued. "Now, it just comes down to you deciding whether this is something you really want."

She wasn't sure she bought into the idea of it as being as simple as that. It felt reductionist; it felt like it ignored all the variables she'd spent hours upon hours weighing in her own head.

However, if that really was the question, she knew without a doubt exactly where she stood.

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

Y/N WAS GETTING incredibly sick of leaning against the metal counter of the diner kitchen, counting down the seconds until she could actually close down for the night.

It was finally Friday, the end of her work week, and she was absolutely dying to finally reach the end of her shift. She was still waiting on a batch of brownies from the oven behind her, finishing up with washing the dishes to occupy her time, but no matter how she tried to distract herself, time only seemed to slow, taunting her. The keys to the diner were in her pocket; her fingers itched to turn the lock on the front door.

She checked her watch again. 9:56 PM.

The diner closed at 10.

She groaned as her watch didn't move any faster, glanced out the kitchen window to see that the last customer had already cleared out. She was growing tired, in part due to lack of sleep, but mostly, she was tired of her week of tearing her hair out in stress. Out the front window of the diner, she could see it still snowing; there was no way anyone was going to come through the blizzard less than five minutes before closing and demand service.

Her over timer pinged. She put down the mug she'd been drying and withdrew her tray, setting it on a cooling rack for the time being, and put the now-clean mug back on its shelf. She picked up another glass. The monotony was grating on her nerves, but she'd promised Mira she wouldn't close the diner until 10 PM sharp, so there she was.

She racked the glass. She reached for another. She dried it. She racked the glass. She reached for another.

Just as she began to wipe down the rim, though, the bell above the front door rang. Her grip on the cup tightened, frustration and disappointment shooting through her veins.

"Three minutes to closing," she called out from where she stood, trying (and failing) to keep the exasperated warning from her tone. With a sigh, she retied her apron and started toward the kitchen door.

"I know, I know." Whoever had decided to ruin her evening had the audacity to sound defensive. She furrowed her brow as she turned, beginning to push the door with her back as she finished cleaning the cup. The voice was eerily familiar. "'M just lookin' for a cup of coffee, and I'll be outta your hair."

With how preoccupied she was, though, she couldn't place where she knew it from until she saw him, looking as fatigued as she as he came in toward the counter, burrowed in his winter coat. She tried not to let her disbelief show across her face.

"Thomas?"

It wasn't until then that he saw her, either, emerging from the back with a skeptical gaze. He froze altogether; his eyebrows shot up. "Y/N. Hey. I, ah... I was expectin' Mira to be here." His voice was soft, and she looked at him expectantly for another moment, waiting, before he blinked hard, and continued. "...I can go, if you really... I mean I know you're just tryin' to close, and I don't wanna... I just, I--"

"It's fine." The words sounded at least as tired as she felt as she cut off his rambling. She reluctantly continued toward the front counter, and hesitantly, he did the same. She discarded the cup she'd been washing on a shelf along the back wall. "How do you take your coffee?"

Though she huffed internally, she tried to ignore it when she realized that she'd just washed the coffee pot not five minutes before. While she started brewing his drink, he took a seat in one of the stools across the counter from her.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, wary. His qualms were still written clearly in his gaze. "Whatever's easiest."

As he'd had no problem coming in three minutes before she intended to close the diner down, his sudden respect for her time made her roll her eyes. She glanced back over her shoulder as the coffee began to drip, giving him a flat look. "Thomas. It's just cream and sugar. I promise it isn't life-changing. Just tell me."

When she raised her eyebrows, he reluctantly said, "One cream, two sugars?" She nodded, bending over to pull a mug from the cabinet below. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Though he couldn't see it, she wore a small smile as she drew back to her full height. Fatigue was heavy in his quiet voice. "It's nothing."

The silence stretched on as neither of them seemed to know quite what to say. Thomas's gaze was set on Y/N as she walked behind the counter; the only sounds were the soft thud of the bag of sugar on the counter, the click as the refrigerator door fell shut, and the clink of ceramics. She pulled the pot of coffee from where it'd been brewing, and the plink of the drink against the bottom of the cup grew higher as she poured. When she reached for the sugar, she again looked over her shoulder, and she found him watching her.

"Am I allowed to ask what you're doing here at 10 PM on a Friday?"

"Technically, I got here at 9:57," he said matter-of-factly, and she cracked a smile, sliding open the silverware drawer to withdraw a spoon.

"Then what about what you're doing here at 9:57 on a Friday?" Her tone was mocking as she looked back at him, and despite the sleep in his gaze, he grinned.

"'M here for coffee, of course." He shrugged when she turned to him with the full mug, unamused -- the 'duh' at the end of the sentence was implied heavily in his tone.

As he gladly accepted the piping hot coffee from her, taking a delicate sip, wincing at the temperature, she raised an eyebrow and leaned across from him on the counter. "And you couldn't have gotten coffee anywhere else right now? Dunkin' Donuts? Your house?"

"Not this coffee."

"You mean the coffee I just brewed in a pot for, like, three minutes?" He nodded earnestly, and when she gave him a dramatically disbelieving stare, he shrugged, holding up his hands in defense.

"What? Mira roasts her own coffee. Can't find it anywhere else." He looked her up and down dubiously as though questioning why she could ever think his late-night pit stop wasn't justified. "And she won't sell me any without me comin' here every time I want it."

"So you'd have no issue busting in here right now if it was just Mira?"

"Somethin' like that."

Y/N furrowed her brow, leaning down onto her forearms. He looked nonchalant as he took another small sip of his drink despite the suspicion in her eyes. "When did you start coming here, anyway? Mira's annoyingly taken with you."

He grinned, his cocky lilt restored to his voice. "Can't help bein' such a charmer." When she scowled, rolled her eyes as she turned to put away the sugar and milk, he continued. "Three or four months. Stopped in here for a quick cup of coffee on my way outta work one night, and couldn't help stayin'."

"The coffee's that good?" she asked, cocking a disbelieving brow. He shrugged.

"And the atmosphere. Mira's a real sweetheart; she's always good to me."

"So, what, you and she are just best friends now?"

"Jealous?" His eyes flashed playfully. Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Of you or of her?" she teased.

A wide grin broke through his expression at that. "Either one."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Hate to disappoint, but it's neither." She bit back a laugh at how hurt he looked; the pout he plastered on. "Anyway, is that why you're trying to crash the closing shift? Wanted to spend some quality time with Mira?"

He shrugged, unabashed. "More or less."

She nodded, the corners of her lips quirked up. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You could never."

Y/N had to laugh at how contrived his conviction was, at what bordered on offense in his voice even at the idea of it, and the sound made him smile. "Thanks, Thomas."

She rolled her eyes as she turned to the shelves, finishing with the cup she'd been wiping down before he'd showed up, and she unplugged the coffee pot. As she began to wipe down the back counter, he spoke. "Should I get goin' then?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow at his sudden change of tune, glanced back at him, he added, "I mean, since I missed Mira 'n' all, and I don't wanna hold you up here later than I already have, I just thought--"

"That's alright. We're out of to-go cups for the rest of your coffee, anyway." When he didn't respond, she finally turned around, wiping her hands on the rag she'd been using to clean. She wore a teasing grin. "Or are you just that anxious to get away from me, hm?"

"'Course not." His smile broadened to match hers as she rested her hands on the counter before him. "Just figured you were countin' down the seconds till you could get rid of me."

"Don't worry, I don't have the patience to count by seconds." Y/N shrugged. "I've been counting by minutes, instead."

"Aw, sweetheart, I'm hurt." He put an offended hand to his heart, drawing back from her where he sat. "Thought we were friends."

She huffed out an involuntary laugh. "Shut up and drink your coffee."

She went back to her tasks with that, shaking her head lightly, tongue in cheek to stifle her amusement. She heard him take another sip of his drink, but when the cup met the saucer, he asked, "What smells so good?"

Her eyebrows shot up as she glanced back into the kitchen. "Oh, right, almost forgot about those." She looked over her shoulder at him. "I've been making brownies, still need to cut them." While he nodded indifferently, there was a wistful look in his eyes as he sat up straighter on his stool to see into the kitchen. She folded her arms. "You want one?"

His eyebrows shot up, and his gaze snapped to where she stood. "Really?"

She shrugged, mildly amused. "Sure. Since I can't seem to get rid of you, anyway."

"That's tough!" he called after her, offended, as she exited into the kitchen, laughing lightly.

She emerged not minutes later, holding two of the brownies; they were still just slightly warm from the oven, so cutting them was no ordeal. She pursed her lips. Thomas's mouth was all but watering as she walked back toward the counter, handing him the napkin one of them was housed atop.

"Enjoy," she commented mildly, suppressed her amusement at the longing in his eyes for the dessert.

"Thanks, sweetheart." His voice was soft. She pushed herself up to sit on the back counter as she ate hers, and when she looked back up, she saw him bite into the dessert, a soft moan escaping his lips. She laughed.

"Is it that good?"

"'S incredible," he mumbled, covering his mouth as he tried to speak, before he swallowed. "Shit, Y/N."

"You're just flattering me because I'm not booting you out of here, but I'll take it anyway."

While she looked rather pleased, he frowned. "You accusin' me of bein' ingenuine?"

"Where did you ever get that idea?" she asked sarcastically, shaking her head. He scowled.

"Hurtful."

"I'm sure."

He put the brownie back on the counter, took another sip of his coffee. "How'd you end up workin' here, anyway?"

She shrugged. "I've told you about my most recent financial crisis. I needed a second source of income."

"Why here, though?" He cocked his head to the side, and she raised an eyebrow, not quite following the aim behind the question. "I just mean, I haven't seen you around here until the past week or so. Was it just 'cause they were hirin'?"

She gave a small smile. "Not quite. Mira and Orlando are my godparents."

His eyebrows shot up. "Yeah?" When she nodded, a small grin formed on his lips. "That why you're so jealous of me and Mira bondin'?"

She rolled her eyes. "Like you could ever replace me?"

He shrugged noncommittally, making Y/N scowl. "I dunno, sweetheart. She and I are gettin' pretty close."

"Get your own mother figure, Jefferson."

"Aw, c'mon now, don't be greedy." He grinned at how progressively annoyed she was beginning to look. "What? Why should you get two mother figures and I don't?" She wasn't quite following his line of reasoning as she cocked an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "Don't have a godmother, feels like fair game to me."

When she didn't answer, he creased his forehead. His voice was hesitant. "Y/N?"

Another beat passed, before she raked a hand through her hair, offering him a smile. "I guess so."

With how weary she suddenly sounded, though, he didn't leave it at that. "What is it you're not tellin' me here?"

She cracked a grin as she met his eyes, amused by how he was looking at her. "Don't look so worried. Geez, Thomas. Mira and Orlando raised me, alright? That's all." She pushed herself off the back counter to discard her napkin.

However, as Y/N walked back toward where he sat at the counter, Thomas bit his lip. Her forced nonchalance didn't seem to quell his concern. "'M I allowed to ask why?"

She shrugged, but her voice grew quiet as she leaned onto the counter. "My parents passed on when I was pretty young." She chose not to meet his eyes, swallowing as she fiddled anxiously with her watch. "Mira and Orlando took me in, so they're all I've had for a family most of my life."

"What happened?" he asked softly. One of his large hands enveloped hers on the counter, and his touch was tentative, nervous, waiting for her to brush him off. When she didn't, he squeezed her hand lightly, and she looked up at him with a sad smile.

"Cancer." He looked crestfallen; she just pursed her lips. "Dad got sick when I was around ten. He was in and out of the hospital for a few years, and my mom spent most of her time with him, getting him treatment, taking care of him, waiting at his bedside. When she wasn't with him, she was working overtime to pay his medical bills. I was alone at home almost every night, so I started going to sleep at Mira and Orlando's when I was twelve."

Y/N's chest was tight. When Thomas didn't interrupt her, just watching her, waiting patiently, she bit her lip, apprehensive to continue. When he didn't fill the growing silence, she went on. "We thought Dad made a full recovery when I was thirteen, but by my fourteenth birthday, Mom was diagnosed. And it just felt like the same thing all over again."

She swallowed hard; tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she forced a smile, blinking hard, and huffed out a laugh despite herself. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to launch into a monologue on my childhood trauma. You don't need to listen to the full story just to be polite."

"'S alright." He offered her a soft smile, and when he brushed his thumb over her knuckle, she found herself squeezing his hand in return, a silent 'thank you.' "Go on. 'M listenin'."

She hesitated another moment when she saw the worry that clouded his gaze. “You sure?” He nodded with full conviction, and though her reluctance didn’t clear, she went on. "...Right. Then, well, after that, Mom was in chemo, and about five months later, Dad had a flare-up. Hospitalized him immediately. That's when I started living with the Murillos full time."

"Mira and Orlando?" he questioned, and she nodded.

"They got me through high school. I visited my parents when I could, but life went on, and as far as I knew, they were recovering." She shrugged, but her tone grew spiteful. She rarely talked about her parents, didn't want to think of how unfair fate had been to her growing up. "My junior year, they passed on within eight months of each other."

She pressed her lips together, and Thomas didn't release her hand. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, and she gave a soft smile, finally looking back up at him.

"It's alright, really." She shrugged, but she didn't move, didn't break his gaze. "It's been more than ten years. I miss them, but I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I've had a decade to mourn them, and even though grief doesn't ever really leave, it subsides. I'm just fine."

He nodded as she gave him a mournful smile, and alongside the empathy in his gaze, she couldn't help but notice his own sadness shining through. "I know what you mean," he said softly, and Y/N tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah?" As far as she knew, Thomas wasn't an orphan, and she'd done extensive research into his background.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Just... about grief never quite leavin'." She waited for him to elaborate, and it wasn't until she raised an eyebrow that he did. "I mean, it's normal. You still think about them every day? Wonder what they'd think about you if they were here now? Feel like you still owe them something, like you have to live your life as though they're around?"

She frowned. "Yeah, exactly." He nodded, and she furrowed her brow. Hesitantly, she asked in a quiet voice, "Thomas, who have you lost?"

He shrugged as he released her hand, instead taking a sip of his coffee. He seemed like he almost thought better of giving her an answer for a moment, but then he spoke. "My fiancée died when I was twenty-three."

"That's terrible." Y/N's brow had immediately knit; she rested on her hands at the edge of the counter. When Thomas saw how she was looking at him, the sadness in her eyes, he chuckled despite himself.

"Wasn't the best time of my life, if I'm honest."

"I'd imagine." His smile was warm at the dry quip as he looked down into his coffee absentmindedly. He didn't look up, never saw the concern in her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Was a freak accident. Came outta the blue a year after we moved in together." He let out a bitter exhale, somewhere between a huff and a mirthless laugh. "She was hit by a drunk driver, and it took her life on impact. I couldn't handle it."

It was her turn to take his hand, then. He'd begun to withdraw. Vulnerability showed through his gaze, through his clenched jaw, through his antsy, almost undetectable movements. He looked up at her, when she did, and she weaved her fingers through his.

"Of course you couldn't, Thomas." She put her other hand atop where she held his. "No one would be able to. Mourning doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. It also means you were strong enough to carry on."

"I wish I had." He looked dejected, by then, almost apathetic as he reflected. When she looked at him questioningly, she could hear him swallow thickly. "I didn't carry on. I ran. Moved away before her funeral 'cause I couldn't stand to see her casket. I didn't grieve for almost three years, just came to DC and started pourin' myself into my work."

"And what's wrong with that, hm?" His eyes had dropped again, and she leaned down into his line of vision, broke his absent stare. "Hey. What's so wrong with that?"

He let out a shaky sigh. "Never honored her memory. Didn't go to her grave or talk to her family until years after she was gone."

"You were trying to cope. That's all you can do. Everyone deals with loss differently."

"But she didn't deserve that," he pressed. She creased her forehead; concern rested in her eyes.

"But what about what you deserved, Thomas?" He cocked his head to one side; his gaze was brimming with inquisition. "Don't you deserve to take care of your own needs? Do you really think she would've wanted you falling apart?"

"Sweetheart, 'm not the one who was killed."

"You don't deserve to suffer just because you're the one who lived."

"But I shoulda been there, at her funeral, at her grave." He drew in a shaky breath. "Feels like I abandoned her."

You did what you needed to do," Y/N insisted. "Wherever she is now, whatever afterlife you believe in, or don't believe in, she obviously hasn't been forgotten."

He nodded, sniffed as he pulled back. He rubbed the corner of his eye, taking a breath, and she didn't comment on it. He ran a hand through his hair as he forced his composure, restored his easygoing manner. His grin was back as though it'd never been gone. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

They shared a smile for a moment, and he pursed his lips. "Can I... ask you not to do anythin' with this?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "What d'you mean?"

"We were never married, so almost no one knows about her, other than close friends and family." He sighed. "'S not information you can find online. And I just..." He trailed off as he looked up at her, tone tentative. "I know you're a journalist 'n' all, but please, can I ask you not to take this to the press?"

While anxiety was clear in his gaze, her eyes were wide, surprised that he thought he even needed to ask. "Of course, Thomas. I would never. It's safe with me."

"Thank you." A beat passed as she just stared into his eyes; with how he was day-to-day, with what she knew of him before, she could've never guessed how much pain he carried with him. He exhaled softly, gave her a grateful smile.

His trance seemed to break a few seconds later when she reached out to lightly squeeze his hand. He shifted in his seat, glanced at the clock above the kitchen door. "Shit, sweetheart, it's almost 10:40. You've gotta be dyin' to kick me outta here."

An apologetic grin accompanied his words, but as he searched her expression for some kind of response, Y/N recognized his question for what it was -- if he'd really wanted to go, he'd have already been pulling himself up, but did she want him to stay?

She shrugged, wearing a kind smile. "I mean, until our final customer is gone, I can't technically close up." He raised an eyebrow. "So really, I'm in no position to be kicking you out."

He shook his head, amusement slowly being restored to his features. "Really, now? An hour ago, you couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"Maybe I was just a worse employee an hour ago."

He laughed. "Aw, someone's gettin' attached, huh?"

She deadpanned as she met his shining eyes. His tone was nothing but teasing. "I take it all back. Get out. Go on."

"Aw, c'mon, sugar, I'm just kiddin'," he pleaded, though he showed no traces of regret. Y/N fixed him with a tired stare.

"You know where to find the door."

"Now, really?" he pouted, brow knit, and she rolled her eyes. "What'd I do to deserve this, hm?"

She scowled, though the amusement she tried to hold back lay clearly in her soft gaze. "Do you really want an answer to that?"

He seemed to think better of it at her words, and quickly changed tacts. "What about the rest of my coffee?"

"Dumping it out. No problem." She shrugged, and he huffed, giving her a fully manufactured look of disappointment.

"Thought we were connectin', and now this is how you treat me?" She held her skeptical stare, and a grin broke through his facade. "Now, what's Mira gonna think when I tell her you kicked out her favorite customer?"

Y/N regarded him wearily, in no mood for his schtick. His eyes were gleaming; he looked up at her with warmth coloring his gaze, and ultimately, when she found no malice in his stare, no ill intent, nothing but goodwill, she huffed.

"Fine. Whatever. Finish the coffee. In the meantime, since apparently, you're shamelessly becoming a parasite, I'm gonna get myself something to eat. You gonna want anything so I can save myself the extra trip?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't mind another brownie."

"And now what's Mira gonna think when she realizes all of our bakery is gone tomorrow?" She folded her arms, turning his own words back on him, but he was unfazed.

"That you gave it to her favorite customer, of course."

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

AND AS THE night slowly stretched on, the pair went on like that for more than another hour, recounting their pasts to one another, each passing judgment on the terrible haircuts the other had in the 90s, reminiscing on college. Y/N was surprised to hear Thomas played the violin (she couldn't tell whether he was joking when he offered to play for her sometime); Thomas couldn't help but poke fun at her when he learned she wrote sappy poetry in high school (and in turn, she threatened again to kick him out). They always seemed to find an excuse for him to hang around just a little longer.

Eventually, midnight struck; both Y/N's and Thomas's attention was drawn to the little clock above the door that finally chimed.

They met each other's eyes for a moment, and while Y/N just waited expectantly, letting him make the call on his next move, Thomas sighed.

"I really should head out, sweetheart."

Y/N smiled softly; her teasing expression couldn't seem to mask the affection dancing in her eyes. "Finally. Can't close until you're outta here, remember? It's kinda rude that you didn't leave earlier, really."

He scoffed, despite that there was no real scorn in her gaze, and raised a brow. "Mm, and it was really rude of me to accept the coffee, and brownies, and leftovers you kept offerin' me every time I tried to leave."

"You didn't put up much of a fight, to be fair." She pursed her lips, giving him a pointed look, and he chuckled.

"Won't deny it."

She'd long since finished wiping everything down, including the dishes she'd been giving Thomas, and though she was far from pushing him out the door, she wasn't going to resist some much-needed sleep.

Thomas finally stood up from his stool, fished his wallet out of his coat pocket. "How much do I owe you?" He glanced back up from where he was leafing through bills, and Y/N shrugged, wearing a small smile.

"This one's on the house."

His eyebrows shot up. "You sure?"

"Mhm." She nodded, cracked a lopsided grin as she still leaned against the counter. "Consider it payback for the century-old book I've got stashed upstairs."

"Upstairs?" he repeated quizzically, and she nodded.

"Yeah, didn't I mention? This was the housing plan I figured out," she told him. "Mira cut me a deal in exchange for taking the late shift every night."

"Every night, huh?" he asked, mischief creeping into his expression. She raised a suspicious brow. "So you're tellin' me, if I was gonna show up at 9:58 next Friday--"

"Don't you dare!" she warned him, but when he laughed, his smile was contagious. "I'm gonna have to start closing up at 9:56 here on out."

"I can adjust." He sent her a wink before tucking his wallet back into his pocket, glancing out at the snowstorm beyond the store windows. Y/N was shivering just looking at it. He pursed his lips. "You sure you've got no to-go cups left?"

"No more coffee, Thomas," she said sternly, giving him a pointed look.

"Alright, alright! Geez," he laughed. "Guess I'll just have to show up tomorrow three minutes before openin' huh?"

She shrugged. "Be my guest; I don't work Saturday mornings."

"Noted. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out your schedule."

"That anxious to see me again?" She cocked her head to the side, smug, and he winked.

"Always." He exhaled softly before finally turning toward the exit. "I'll see you around?"

"You know where to find me." He nodded, chuckled as he tucked his hands in his pockets, burrowing into his coat as he neared the door. "G'night, Thomas."

He cast her one final glance over his shoulder, eyes shining. "Night, sweetheart."

She shuddered at the gust of cold air that entered the diner upon his exit, finally going to lock up the front, drawing the shades before she went up to her flat. The brownies she'd made were put away, the chairs were all up; she did one final, brief sweep of the place, and hit the light.

She couldn't deny her fatigue as she reached her apartment, locking the front door behind her, but after discarding her apron into her hamper, she made the executive decision that she needed to shower before she could go to sleep. She'd been going all day long and had begun to smell like a mix of old ham, coffee, and melted chocolate -- three good things in isolation, but not quite something she’d be purchasing as a Dior fragrance anytime soon.

She emerged from the shower less than half an hour later, and though it'd woken her up just a bit, it was nice to feel clean, putting on clean pajamas, being in her clean apartment.

She was just on the inoperational side of sleepy as she walked back to her room, yawning into one of her sweater paws, checking her phone once more for the night, going through the notifications from the past few hours.

She was already burrowed halfway under her blankets when she saw the message that made her freeze. It was on her Twitter account.

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: are you still up

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry about this

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: but my car won't start

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im still out in your parking lot

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: think the weather broke something in the engine

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry to ask this

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: but if you're awake, would u be willing to let me back in ?

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: just real quick i swear

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: please it's less than freezing out here

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry about this y/n

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: really i dont mean to take advantage of your hospitality

@Thomas_Jefferson is typing...

Her eyes widened; her eyebrows shot up. She was already in bed, she was dying to finally just get some sleep, but she couldn't just leave him out in the cold knowing she was the only one around to help him out. She sighed.

@Y/N_L/N sent: jesus christ, thomas stop rambling

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: im so sorry

@Y/N_L/N sent: relax, ill come down to let you in now

She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed, bringing one blanket with her to the stairs, mildly bleary-eyed.

Once again, her phone pinged.

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: thank you

@Thomas_Jefferson sent: ill come to your door

Sure enough, when she made it down, shifted the blinds to peer through, ensure that it was actually Thomas and that she wasn't about to get abducted in her booty shorts and men's XL college sweatshirt, she saw him standing there, shivering, and her eyes widened. She rushed to unlock the front door, and Thomas didn't waste a second coming in.

"Jesus, sweetheart, I can't thank you enough." He let out a deep breath, seemingly reveling in the warmth of the room. She closed the door quickly behind him, though the wind certainly put up a fight. "'M so sorry about this. Really, if I could fix it now, I would, but I think somethin' in the motor froze while I was parked out there for a couple hours. I--"

"It's ok, Thomas," Y/N said softly, doing her best not to sound as though she was half asleep, and she pulled her blanket tighter around herself. "Really. I'd rather you not freeze to death; it'd put a bit of a damper on my career."

He grinned. "So self-centered."

She scowled. "Go back outside."

He laughed as he unbuttoned his coat, tucked his gloves in his pocket and withdrew his phone. "Did I wake you up?" He eyed her choice of attire dubiously, looking amused, and she shifted her blanket to cover her shorts.

"Nah, I was just on my phone in bed. You're fine."

"...Right." She ignored his disbelieving tone.

"How long were you out there for before you messaged me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He sighed.

"'Bout half an hour. 'M sorry, I couldn't take the cold any longer."

"Don't apologize, geez," she huffed. "You think I'd have rathered you stayed in your icebox of a car and said nothing?"

"I'm gonna guess by your tone that it's a no, but I gotta say, I wasn't so sure."

"Oh, shut up!" Y/N scowled, and he grinned. "Can I call someone for you? A tow truck? A mechanic?" She asked, rubbing the side of her nose, eyebrows raised, and Thomas shook his head.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it." He seemed engrossed in whatever he was typing into his phone, staring down at it intently and hardly sparing her a glance as he furrowed his brow. "I'm gonna call myself an Uber. I'll be outta your hair in five minutes, and I'll come by to get my car in the morning. That ok?"

She nodded, hardly even processing his words. "Yeah. Yeah, fine."

She stifled another yawn as he grew increasingly frustrated with his app. Several moments passed; she saw him repeatedly pressing the same button with no increasing degree of success. It took him longer than it should've to admit defeat, letting out a sigh.

"Everything ok?"

He shook his head. "Uber isn't runnin' in this storm. Can I take you up on that tow truck?"

"Yeah, d'you want the number?"

"Please." His expression plainly revealed his increasing desperation as she pulled up the contact in her phone, rattled off the digits to him.

She spaced out gradually after taking a seat on one of the stools by the counter, absentmindedly watching him make the call. His relief was written clearly in his eyes when someone answered, and she listened to him go back and forth with the person on the other end of the line at such an ungodly hour. Whoever it was didn't seem to have any more patience than Thomas. It wasn't until he was cut off mid-sentence that his face finally fell.

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You have a good night, now."

"Bad news?" Y/N raised an eyebrow when he finally hung up the call. He looked to her with pursed lips.

"The roads are closed through downtown 'cause of a severe weather warnin'." Her eyebrows shot up, and he let out a defeated sigh. "I'm so sorry; 'm sure I have someone in the area who I can call and just walk over to. Gimme a few more minutes."

While he searched frantically through his phone, brow knit in worry, she could see the panic beginning to show through. She pursed her lips. His solution seemed flawed at best and downright suicidal at worst; the weather was brutal. "Thomas," she began, swallowing her qualms, but she didn't get a chance to go on, not in the midst of his rising anxiety

"You know of any hotels close to here, sweetheart? Even just--"

"There aren't any, Thomas," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. She knew she had to offer him residence for the night, by then, but exhaustion colored her reluctance.

"How far d'you suppose the nearest is?" He raised an eyebrow, glancing up. "'Cause I can walk to some--"

"Thomas." She looked at him tiredly. "I live upstairs."

He blinked, hesitant to draw the only clear conclusion from what she was saying, too afraid of the idea that he could've been being presumptuous. "...Okay?"

Her gaze was flat. "Just come crash at my apartment for the night. I have the space; I can't let you try to walk seven miles in the storm to some dingy B&B."

He bit his lip; he appeared anxious to accept her offer. "Listen, I don't wanna impose, sweetheart; I can--"

"You aren't imposing. Calm down." He raised an eyebrow; tentativeness still lay in his gaze, but he seemed to be realizing the futility of his situation. "I'm offering, alright?"

He paused. "You don't have to take me in just cause--"

"Thomas." She huffed, cutting him off for what she hoped was the final time. "Stop worrying about it. Seriously. If it'd really make you that uncomfortable, I guess I could bring a pillow down here for you to sleep on the floor, if that was what you really wanted, but otherwise, just come upstairs."

He raised his eyebrows, and his voice was quiet when he spoke. "You sure?"

She chuckled. "I'm sure. Now, stop making such a big deal of it. C'mon."

She nodded toward the staircase before going back to lock the front door to the diner, and she hit the lights again as he followed her up. "Thank you so much, Y/N, really, I--"

"What'd I just say about making a big deal out of it, hm?" She glanced back at him as they reached the top of the spiral staircase up to her apartment, and she unlocked the door. He gave a soft smile.

"Still, sweetheart. Thank you."

"It's not a problem," she chuckled. He came alongside her through the entrance, and she shut her front door behind him as he glanced around the flat curiously.

"What should I do with my coat?"

"Just put it on one of the hooks by the mirror. Leave your shoes wherever; it doesn't really matter." She flipped the kitchen light on as she walked in. "So, the couch is a pull-out; if you're still up when I go to sleep, the bedding and mattress pad are in the closet at the back of the hall. The bathroom is also back there, first door on your left, and you're welcome to help yourself to anything from the kitchen."

He raised an eyebrow as he shrugged off his coat, kicked off his shoes. "You got any more of those brownies up here?" he asked innocently.

Y/N paused where she stood, sending him a warning look. "That better be a joke."

"Of course, sugar." He'd begun wandering through her sitting room while she poured herself a drink. "Seriously, though, were you goin' to sleep when I messaged you? Don't wanna keep you up any later than I already have."

She shrugged. Despite her exhaustion, despite how she knew it'd have been impossible for him not to catch onto her fatigue, going to sleep didn't seem like the best of her options -- first off, she felt guilty to try and leave him alone there when he was all hopped up on caffeine, but second, and far more importantly, she didn't want to leave all her personal possessions out for him to poke through. (He'd probably go poking around, too, and she wouldn't blame him in the slightest; it wasn't like she hadn't dug through his belongings before.)

She finally answered, "Nah, not just yet. Was gonna pour myself a glass of wine, though; you want any while I'm at it?"

He hummed, considering it as she reached up for the bottle where she'd stashed it. "Wouldn't mind one."

So with that, she withdrew two glasses, pouring her cheap Cabernet Sauvignon out for the pair of them. With a sigh, she discarded her blanket on the side of the rug next to the couch, unable to carry both glasses along with it.

When she rejoined him, he stood before her bookshelf, arms crossed, leaning forward ever-so-slightly to get a better look at the titles.

"See anything you like?"

Her voice made him turn, matching her smile as he accepted the glass of wine. "I just might." His playful wink as he looked her over made her laugh. "Thanks for this, by the way."

She shrugged as he nodded to the drink she'd poured, lifting her own glass to her lips. "It's no Sassicaia, but it does the trick."

He took a sip, the corners of his lips quirking up. "Could be worse."

Though her gaze drifted to the bookshelf before him, she laughed lightly. "What high praise," she commented dryly.

"Isn't it?" Thomas grinned, glancing down at her, and she rolled her eyes. Her reaction didn't seem to deter him, though. "'M kiddin'," he reassured her, as though she'd taken any sort of offense at the statement. "Really, hope you know how grateful I am for all this."

His tone was light as he gestured to the room around them. While he seemed unfazed, Y/N couldn't help but feel absurd, as though the whole situation still could've been some strange, lucid dream.

"Ah, yes, I'm such a guardian angel," she agreed, tone dry with sarcasm. "I've provided an old mattress and an eight-dollar bottle of wine. You really struck it lucky."

He gave a cheeky grin. "The company more than makes up for it."

She scoffed, shaking her head, but she didn't suppress her growing smile. "You really owe me big, then."

"I'll find a way to pay you back."

She took another sip of her wine, and for once, the warmth blossoming in her chest wasn't just fast-acting heartburn from having cheaped out on dollar-store alcohol. She watched him another moment, waited to speak until he finally met her gaze. "Anything on my bookshelf holding your interest?"

His shrug revealed next to nothing. "No surprises here."

"Oh, because you know my taste in literature so well?" Her skepticism made him smile. Really, any resistance she provided didn't come from him being incorrect, but instead from how uneasy his discerning gaze made her; he spoke as though he could see right through her, as though he'd long since figured out what makes he tick. She couldn't help but feel exposed.

"You're easier to read than you think, sweetheart." She didn't answer, but instead raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on. "Keats, Austen, Plath..." He quirked a brow. "... seven different copies of The Princess Bride."

"Hey, it's a classic!" she defended, and he laughed.

"'Course it is." He took a sip of his drink, eyes shining. "It's interestin', though."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Rest of this apartment is almost completely bare, but this bookshelf is almost overflowin'."

She cocked her head. "Care to enlighten me on what makes that so interesting?"

"'S just predictable." He shrugged, his gaze turning to Y/N with a small smile. "Says somethin' about your priorities, huh? Nothin' you need straightened out."

His wink made her grin. "And who gave you the right to come into my home and judge my lifestyle?"

"Hey, I'm just validatin' you," he defended. "Besides, last I checked, you gave me that right by invitin' me up here."

Y/N huffed at how pleased he looked with himself, going to take a seat on her couch behind him. He raised an eyebrow as she did, and when his gaze followed her, he found himself turning, leaning against the bookshelf as she addressed him. "Don't make me regret it when you've hardly been up here for ten minutes."

"Aw, but I'm touched by how much you care, savin' me from the storm."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I didn't want you to freeze to death, try not to let it go to your head."

"But sweetheart, you saved my life; how could I not be forever in your debt?" At that point, he was playing up his gratitude, having plastered on a full pout, wearing a wistful expression, and Y/N hoped in vain that her amusement didn't show on her face.

"Don't be so dramatic; I just saved my career." She hid her smile behind the rim of her glass.

"C'mon, do I really mean that little to you?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

He laughed, coming back around to join her on the couch. "I'm gonna let that one go, just cause I know you don't mean it."

"...Right." The couch cushions dipped beside her as he sat, and she shifted, turned to him, pulling a leg up beside her onto her seat. He raised a dubious eyebrow before taking another sip of wine.

"You really expect me to believe that?" While his voice was light, the question itself wasn't in jest. The fact that she chose to ignore her adamant attraction to him didn't make it any less obvious, apparently -- it was forever bubbling just below the surface, hanging tense in the air between them. She sighed.

"Alright, I guess you caught me. It's true, my motives aren't purely selfish. I confess." She looked him in the eye with faux solemnity. "I'm also trying to save James and Dolley from having to plan a funeral."

He only shook his head, amused. She was deflecting again, and not subtly, either. Thomas was trying to tread lightly, but she wasn't making it easy on him. "Ever the humanitarian."

"I do try." His gaze was growing empty as she held his eyes. He looked as though his mind was elsewhere. When she drank more of her wine, eyeing him, he hadn't moved a muscle, his expression was blank. "Thomas?"

He blinked hard when she waved her hand in front of him, forcing a wide smile. "Sorry, sweetheart, just spaced out a minute."

"What are you thinking about?" The question was innocent, but it made him tense. He shrugged, pausing a moment.

"Just wonderin' where you got that century-old book of Bryon poems hidden." Though she raised an eyebrow, she tried not to let her skepticism pervade her expression. He raised an eyebrow. "You clearly don't have it packed into that same old bookshelf. Lose it already?"

"Not quite yet." She elected to ignore how he was deflecting in turn. "It's at my beside. I was doing some light reading last night."

"Enjoyin' it?"

"So much." Her excitement was genuine, then, when he raised a brow; her eyes were shining. "D'you know it's been annotated by like, seven different people? It's so interesting, seeing different interpretations from the past hundred years."

His lips quirked. "And what'd you think of my notes?"

"Some of those were yours?"

He nodded. "Everything in purple."

"You have pretty handwriting." When he grinned outright, her gaze drifted to his mouth a moment. She caught herself before he could react. "Anyway, I thought you said no one had read that in almost fifteen years."

"'S cause no one had. Those annotations were all the way back in college."

She raised her eyebrows. "Now, I definitely didn't expect you to be a fan of Byron."

"Oh yeah?" He crossed one of his legs over the other, shifting to face her, and draped an arm over the back of the couch. He looked curiously at her. "Why's that?"

"Definitely didn't take you for a romantic."

"Hey, now." His offense was entirely a facade, and his smile despite it didn't help his case. "I'm hurt. I've always been a romantic."

She snorted out a disbelieving laugh. "I'm sure you have."

"I'm not kiddin'!" he defended, but her clear skepticism amused him regardless. "'M a sentimental person."

"Could've fooled me."

"And why's that?"

"I dunno." She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink as she glanced at him. While his tone was lighthearted, his gaze was inquisitive, searching -- he didn't respond, letting the silence stretch on, and she felt as though she owed him an answer. "You're just so... laid-back and carefree. You're all confident, and brash, and have a flair for the dramatics. I guess I wouldn't have pegged you as a softie."

"I like to think I'm pretty empathetic." His voice was soft. "I've devoted my life to public service, to makin' people's better. You've gotta be compassionate to put the time and money into runnin' for president, right?"

"Or you have to be power-hungry," she contended, and though her tone was light, he creased his forehead.

"'S that really what you think of me?"

With how he was looking at her, bordering on hurt, Y/N could feel guilt building at the back of her throat. She'd come into her current job with so many preconceptions about him that she couldn't have known whether were true, but she hadn't hesitated in entertaining the ideas regardless. "Not anymore." She was sure she looked as embarrassed as she felt. "But I may have made some unfair assumptions, once upon a time."

He gave her a mild grin. "Don't sweat it; it goes both ways."

"Excuse me?" She sat up straighter, raising an eyebrow, and he only seemed amused as he regarded her.

"Oh, you're actin' all offended, now?"

"I am offended."

"You shouldn't be." She squinted suspiciously at him as he continued. "Never thought you were a bad person, or anythin', just didn't expect all this from you." With his words, he gestured to the room around him, and she was slow to reply.

"What d'you mean?"

"Lettin' me stay so late in your diner, takin' me in with the storm out there..." He trailed off, shrugging. "You're bein' more generous than you're givin' yourself credit for."

"To be fair, you would've been able to get home without a problem if I'd just kicked you out earlier."

"But you didn't." How perceptive he'd suddenly become had her shifting in her seat. "Feel like I owe you for it."

She smiled bashfully, sipping her wine. With how he was looking at her, heat had begun to rise in her cheeks. "Really, Thomas, it's not a big deal. It's the least I can do."

"It means a lot, though. Really. Didn't have to do any of this for me." His gaze roamed her apartment thoughtlessly, and he wore a small smile. Her eyes were fixed firmly on him all the while, drinking in his expression, the smallest details of his face, from the little patch below his ear he'd missed while shaving, to the stray curl that always seemed to fall across his forehead. "Thank you, Y/N."

What happened next caught them both off guard, despite how slow, gradual, even how nervous it was.

Her action was unexpected, but not sudden, and for once, Y/N didn't think about it. She just acted. He'd turned back to her in surprise when her fingertips grazed his stubble, no longer caught up in eyeing the room around them, and before he said anything, she was leaning in, kissing him.

The action wasn't rushed, and at first, it was chaste -- he was breathless, kissing her back without thinking twice, and his hand rose to cup her cheek, following her movements.

It took him a minute to pull away, and when he did, Y/N backed off immediately, wide-eyed. "Sweetheart--"

Her stomach dropped. Rejection hadn't been an outcome she'd considered, not after how he'd been coming onto her time and time again, not after the other night, with how frankly he'd asked her what she was looking for from him. "Shit, Thomas, 'm sorry." Her apology was breathless. "I... I didn't mean to make you--"

But he didn't let her go on, his hand moving from her cheek to the nape of her neck, stopping her from retreating to the opposite side of the couch as she lay her glass of wine on the coffee table. "Is this what you want?"

His question made her freeze. He wasn't shooting her down; his eyes searched hers, and she swallowed roughly. "Yes," she breathed. Another beat passed. She bit her lip, waiting for him to react, waiting to see what he'd say or do, but he didn't move.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm. "'Cause if you're gonna run out, rebuke me again, I can't--"

"I'm sure." She didn't waste another moment in pulling him back down to her, pushing herself across the couch, closer to him, and as her lips again met his, he discarded his glass, instead tugging her onto him by the waist.

She pulled him close that time, abandoning her hesitance. He didn't want to stop her, either -- not when her arms snaked up around his neck, not when she swung one of her legs over his, straddling his lap, not when she knit a hand into the curls at the base of his neck, and his self-control was fleeting as he bit down on her bottom lip, making her moan. But despite how she was kissing him, despite the sheer desire in her actions, his concern hadn't subsided.

When he held her face just inches from his own, thumb tracing patterns into the top of her hip, her stare was saturated with surprise. "Y/N, really," he started, worried. She raised her eyebrows. "I've gotta know--"

"I've thought this through," she cut him off firmly, rolling her hips teasingly down against his, and the action made him groan. "I want this. I want you. I'm not going to regret this; I'm not going to run off. If you want me to stop, tell me, tell me now, please, but I swear, Thomas. I know what I want." She'd withdrawn a hand from where it hung at his upper back, instead running it down to the top of his chest, her fingernails ghosting over his shoulder, across his collarbone. "Do you?"

There was a skip as he paused, but when he found no reservations in her gaze, only reckless abandon and want, his mind was made up.

"Beyond a doubt." His words were hardly a whisper, lost quickly in both of their rising thoughts, in the growing cacophony of pleasure as her lips returned to his without hesitation, lost in the rising sighs and low moans as she pressed up against him, and finally, finally, they both stopped thinking and overthinking, doubting and hesitating.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away as Y/N tugged on the tie Thomas still wore, as he pulled her closer by her waistband She was breathing heavily when his lips found her neck, shivering when his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin, when his fingertips dug into her hips. It was easy for her to lose herself in him, after weeks of waiting and wanting and wishing, and easier still when she pulled on his soft curls, making him groan against her skin, when his grip on her tightened as she ground her hips down against his.

She could feel him shudder underneath her when his hips jerked, when he pulled her down against him, when she let out a soft whine. By that point, his tie was sloppily loosened, hanging crooked around his neck, and Y/N had managed to undo the first few buttons of his shirt despite how preoccupied she'd quickly become.

She had no caution left to cling to. She'd shaken him off time and time again; she'd rebuffed his unshakeable audacity, but it took her until he backed off to realize what it was she was really looking for.

Something about it all scared her, made her heart race and her head spin, but as his hands traveled further south, her pulse spiked, and she couldn't bring herself to mind it. He asked where her bedroom was; her answer was just a murmur between hot, fervent kisses as he returned to her mouth.

She knew she wouldn't regret this all come morning. She wouldn't regret it two days later, nor two weeks later, the risk of it all only compounding upon the excitement. With his skin against hers, with him picking her up by the thighs, making her yelp as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, she was struggling to remember that there was any big picture to it. There would always be her job. There would always be the election. There would always be their nosy mutual friends and a bloodthirsty political landscape. But just then, in her low-budget apartment with her secondhand furniture, as the blizzard raged on within six inches of her warm, comfortable living room, as all of Washington D.C. was buried under a cloak of snow, as frozen in space as it felt in time, the two of them were all there was.

[dinosaurtsukki]

❁ corsage + potted plants: i match you up with... yamaguchi tadashi + domestic headcanons

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

@amanda0121gg​: Hi!! Can I request a hybrid version flower order? I’d like a corsage potted plant order (you choose a character +domestic head cannons) if that’s ok!A bit about me:- 21, Aries, psychology major- Dark long hair, brown eyes, brown skin, curvy- Infj, enneagram type 2- Artsy(ish) -> into music, painting, literature- Goal driven and ambitious (but can also be lazy hehe)

a/n: ahh hope it’’s alright that i cut your desc a bit to fit but here’s your match-up + hc’s!!

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

you and yamaguchi were neighbors in the same apartment building and actually moved in together. yamaguchi being the nice neighbor that he was probably sent you some cookies or lemonade that he made as a show of friendship

because you’re both in the same uni, you would end up going to school together especially since neither of you were familiar with the area yet

you both love to talk on the way to uni and yamaguchi instantly loves your bright, positive energy and how fun it is to be around you

the two of you sometimes eat dinner together, especially if one person cooked too much food

and of course you wouldn’t hesitate to do things like knock on each other’s door if you needed anything

you and yamaguchi like having these stress-relief days where you just hang out in each other’s apartment and do some fun hobbies and try not to think about uni or work

you got yamaguchi into painting and he loves doing it with you. sometimes you both go out to the park and take pictures of landscapes as painting references

eventually, he began to see you as more of a friend and shyly confessed while you were both eating dinner in his apartment

the two of you became a lot more affectionate after getting together. yamaguchi’s super cuddly and he loves giving you soft pecks on your cheek or forehead

since you both live near each other, it was fairly easy to move in together

before you guys bought a bigger mattress, you actually pushed both of your beds together to sleep on

yamaguchi loves your sense of fashion and likes it when you style him to match your outfit of the day

he also knows how much you love your rainy days and will definitely cuddle up with you on the couch with some tea

he’s definitely a tea drinker too and you have a little collection of tea bags, as well as matching mugs

one of your favorite moments with him was staying up during new year’s eve and watching the fireworks from the balcony

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist):@montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan​ @therainroguefanfiction​ @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh​ @charliefredb​ @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @atsumusdomain​ @goodfoodxoxoxo​ @ah-kaashi​ @guardianangelswings @definitely-yours @amberalisa @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs​ @procrastination-lady

[sonicrainicorn]

Patton is Berry Done

Part of the Berry Done AU

Words: 4092 Desc.: Logan gets drunk for the first time in his life, and Patton realizes it’s not as fun to be on the other end. TW: Alcohol, cursing, a lot of throwing up (it’s only ever mentioned tho bc ew)

The idea came to me when I was working on the one-shot that was actually supposed to be published. whoops. Hope you like drunk Logan, anyway.

///

One Friday night, Damien invited Patton and Logan over to hang out. Patton, who was very much well aware of what his brother meant by ‘hang out’, asked Thomas if he was willing to babysit. Well -- he asked Logan if he could ask Thomas. Patton was sure that asking Thomas for anything would end in his funeral. Which he understood completely. Though, if you told him last month that Thomas would genuinely threaten to break every bone in his body, he would have thought you were joking. Thomas was the nicest person he knew.

Either way, he agreed and Patton and Logan thanked him again before leaving. When they got there, Damien had already started drinking.

“Rough day at work, then?” Patton asked with a raised brow.

Damien glared at him and let them in the house. Emile and Remy were sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to play a card game. By the looks of it, Emile was winning. And by a lot. A random TV show was on that no one paid attention to. Background noise, then.

“Hi, guys,” Emile chirped. “I win again, by the way.” He flipped the dealer’s -- also known as Damien’s -- card over, nonchalantly taking a sip of wine.

In a great feat of theatrics, Remy fell back and let out a short yell. “How the hell do you win every time?”

“I told you not to play blackjack with him, but you insisted.” Damien rolled his eyes and gathered all the cards. “You should probably stop before he wins everything you own.”

“Damn bastard already has everything I own,” Remy grumbled under their breath.

Emile smiled sweetly at them.

Damien tossed the card pack at Patton, who almost didn’t catch it. “Work did suck if you must know. And I need someone to get drunk with. Remy can’t do it because they work tomorrow and Em doesn’t like to get drunk so...” He looked at Patton like it was obvious. “You definitely weren’t my first option.”

Seems someone was still a little mad. “Why don’t you just go to a bar?” Patton sat next to Emile.

“Because I want to wallow in self-pity in the comfort of my own home.” He crossed his arms. “Will you do it or not?”

“No thanks.” He started shuffling the cards.

Damien groaned dramatically. “You never give me what I want.” A buzzed middle child who was in a Mood didn’t make for good conversation, as it turned out. He turned to Logan. “What about you?”

Patton expected the answer to be the same, he had no reason to doubt otherwise, but then Logan -- Logan who took one shot on his twenty-first birthday and then never drank again, said, “Yeah, I don’t see why not”

“Oh God, yes. Finally.” Damien rushed to the kitchen with a large grin.

Patton stopped shuffling to stare at Logan with what he assumed could be translated as what the actual fuck all over his face.

It seemed to catch Logan’s attention. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You don’t drink.”

“Well, out of the two of us, I’m not the one known for doing regrettable things so I think we’re safe.”

Ooh, yikes. Yeah, that was a hundred percent called for. Patton shifted in his spot and diverted his attention back to the cards. Turns out he didn’t have any more to say.

Emile glanced between them, a small thoughtful frown on his face. He erased it with a shake of his head. “So what are we playing?”

“Poker.”

Remy sat up. “Great. I actually have a chance at this.”

“Did you want to join us, Logan?” Emile sent him a small smile.

“With the way D’s going to drink tonight?”  A sly grin slid across Remy’s face. “ I think he’ll have his hands full already.”

Right on time, Damien came charging back into the room. In his arms were various supplies such as shot glasses, vodka, tequila, and a few different chasers. He set them all on the table. “Wanna match me shot for shot?” He held up the bottle of vodka with an inviting grin.

“No.” Patton snatched it out of his hand.

He made an offended noise akin to a child getting their toy taken away. “Why not?”

“Because I know how many shots you can take and I don’t want you giving my husband alcohol poisoning.”

“Ugh, fine.” He took the bottle back. “For every shot you take, I’ll take a double.”

Patton’s, “That’s not what I meant.” versus Emile's, “You’re already tipsy.” did nothing in comparison to Remy’s much louder, “Do it bitch, you won’t.”

“Alright, bet.” He sat at the unoccupied side of the table.

Emile hit Remy’s shoulder and gave them an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. They simply shrugged in response.

“C’mon, Logan, let’s see how fast we can regret this tomorrow.” He started pouring out the first shots and chasers, eager to get started. The only time Damien was eager to do something was if it caused damage -- be it to property or livers.

Logan sighed, shrugged to himself, and sat next to Damien. Patton watched wearily as he took his first shot. His face screwed up as it burned its way down. Patton could feel the phantom burns in his own throat. Straight vodka wasn’t his favorite, but it was always common at college parties. He knew the motions well. Take the shot, let it burn -- but don’t act like it burns, then sip a chaser if there happens to be one. (Though, if there was one, it was always alcoholic.) Logan didn’t know the ‘etiquette’ of drinking well enough. He reached for the chaser of cranberry juice almost as soon as it went down.

It didn’t matter though. How you took a shot was just style points. At a party surrounded by onlooking strangers? You’re going to need maximum style points for that. At a bar with some friends? Depending on the friends, style points were still important. At home just trying to get drunk? Style wasn’t the point. Besides, Logan wasn’t a drinker so his reaction to straight shots was bound to be expected.

“Oh, yeah, this is gonna suck.” Damien took a sip of his own chaser. “Ready for another round?”

Sometime after the second shot, Logan started getting a little more touchy. He placed hands on Damien’s shoulders, his arm, Patton was sure there was even a thigh at some point. And Damien was all grins and flirty compliments. Patton knew Damien’s drunken states pretty well. He flirted with anyone that wasn’t a brother of his and generally had his charisma cranked up to ten. On the flip side, he also acted like moody a sixteen-year-old. So, really, drunk Damien was just sober Damien with even less of a filter. Logan’s drunk states, on the other hand, were new territories.

By the third shot, Logan was mostly giggles. He and Damien tried to have their usual debates (also known as a normal conversation for them), but they dissolved into Logan laughing over something vaguely related and Damien testing out a pick-up line based on the topic. On the fourth, Logan kissed Patton and called him “the most beautiful man in the world”. Damien got comically offended and insisted that Logan was breaking his heart. Logan laughed, cradled Damien’s face, and called him beautiful too. As soon as the fifth went down, Logan was completely plastered. He put all his weight against Patton with a loose hand around Damien’s wrist. He started talking about how great everyone was, though he struggled to find more than three adjectives and slurred all his words.

“Nope, that’s enough.” Patton tried to take the bottle out of Damien’s hands when he went to pour another shot, but he couldn’t move with Logan at his side.

Remy took the initiative. “Unfortunately, I have to agree. Logan can’t handle anymore.”

Damien pouted and put his head in his hand. “Boo.”

“That actually took a bit longer than I expected,” Emile admitted softly.

“Yeah -- damn, Logan.” Remy put the cap back on the bottle. “For someone who doesn’t drink you sure held out for a while.”

Logan held up a peace sign.

“Okay, I think we better get going.” Patton lifted Logan to his feet. It was a bit harder than it sounded due to Logan’s apparent lack of bone structure. He refused, or maybe simply couldn’t, move or stand on his own. He kept all his weight on Patton the whole time.

“I think that’s a good idea.” Emile wrangled another bottle out of Damien’s hands. “Stop. Any more and you’ll be asking Logan to marry you.”

Damien snorted. A lazy grin slithered on his face. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Patton frowned, holding Logan a little closer to his side.

Emile sighed -- an annoyed, almost aggressive sound. “Yeah, okay. Come on. We’re done for tonight.” He dragged Damien into the kitchen, ignoring how he almost face planted.

“Ignore him.” Remy shook their head like a disappointed parent. They gave Patton a small smile. Not a grin or a smirk -- a gentle, genuine smile. “Anyway, want some help? Seems like you could use it.”

“That would be nice, actually.”

Logan clung to Remy like a koala to a tree almost as soon as all his weight was transferred over. Right away he started saying all the great things he thought about them and the good things they did. Remy just nodded and agreed while gently coercing him into a better walking position. Patton silently apologized and opened the front door.

On the short walk to the car, everything Logan said was followed by a soft, “I know, Logan.” or an, “Uh-huh.” much like someone would do when they’re half-listening to a child while focusing on another task. Patton would argue that the comparison was more than apt since most of the stuff Logan said seemed to be the first draft.

Patton opened the passenger side door and Remy helped Logan in. They went to close the door, but stopped when Logan said, “I love you.”

They laughed, borderline composed giggles, and responded, “Love you too, pal.” They shut the door. Logan waved at them through the window, and they gave him a little wave back. “Wow, he is fucking trashed.” They turned to Patton with a wide grin. “I’m surprised he’s still conscious.”

“Guess we’ll see how long that lasts.” He looked at Logan, who gave him a bright beam. “I should go before his body realizes he hasn’t thrown up yet.”

“Oh, yeah. Drive safe.”

“Will do.”

Almost as soon as Patton got in the car, Logan blurted out, “If you could drive straight up at sixty miles an hour, it would take an hour to get to space.”

Patton didn’t even have the door closed yet. “W... what?”

He repeated it a little slower, though that seemed to leave a lot more room for errors and slurring. “If you could drive your car up-ards it would take an hour to getta space.”

He blinked. “That’s, uh, that’s really interesting, bumblebee.” He shut the door. “Could you maybe put on your seat belt before telling me more facts? Unless you need some help.”

“M’not five.” Despite his statement, Logan struggled with the necessary coordination for an absurd amount of time. After failing to get the buckle in the right spot (following an embarrassing number of attempts), he gave up with a small pout. “I can’t do it.”

Patton smiled a bit. He looked like a grumpy toddler. “Let me help, hon.” He buckled him in.

Once they started driving, Logan did not stop talking. He told Patton he loved him five different times, asked nonsense questions followed by silly answers, and pointed out whatever he saw looking out the window. He also insisted on having a hand near Patton at all times despite Patton saying he needed to focus on driving. He was so much more open and bubbly and touchy -- very touchy. A near 180 of sober Logan.

They only had to stop for him to throw up on the side of the road once, which was a lot more impressive than the first time Patton ever got drunk. At least from what friends told him. He didn’t remember anything about that night, but he was told that he threw up several times before ever reaching his apartment. To be fair, he was eighteen at the time and trying to impress someone cute. He didn’t remember if it worked or not.

After his little vomit issue, Logan was a bit less energetic. Understandably so. Throwing up always sucked. But throwing up after a night of drinking was even worse. It didn’t stop him from saying how much he loved Patton, though.

When Patton pulled in the driveway, he cursed under his breath. He forgot about Thomas. With Logan drunk out of his mind and extremely pliable, there was no doubt Thomas’s protective older brother instincts would take over. Patton tried to figure out what to say that wouldn’t result in his head on a pike.

“Come on, hon.” He helped Logan out of the car. Once again, all of his weight was against Patton. “Your brother’s gonna kill me for this, isn’t he?”

There seemed to be a magic word in there that caused Logan’s energy to return tenfold. A large grin split across his face and Patton could have sworn there were stars in his eyes. “Thomas is here.”

Okay, Logan getting excited to see Thomas was actually pretty cute. Patton smiled. “Yeah, baby, Thomas is here. Did you wanna see him?”

Logan nodded, almost cartoonish in nature.

“Let’s get inside, then.” While Patton wasn’t at all prepared to see Thomas, he couldn’t deny Logan what he wanted. That would just be cruel.

He struggled to open the door with Logan hanging off of his arm, but he managed. Thomas was laying on the couch watching Parks and Rec on a low volume. His attention diverted from that rather quickly. Almost right away, he was on his feet to reach Patton and Logan. Patton didn’t know why he was surprised. He had to admit that it was a little obvious Logan wasn’t his top-notch self.

Logan detached himself from Patton and all but collapsed into Thomas’s arms before anyone had a chance to say anything. “Thomas,” he said, a little too loud, “you’re amazing. You’re the best -- best brother I could ever ask for. And I... I love you so much.” He squished Thomas’s face with his hands. “I apre... pre-shate all you ever done. You’re so ‘mazing. I owe you so much. You a’ways make me ‘appy a-and you stick by me no matter what. You’re -- you’re just really great.” He gave him a tight hug.

Thomas stared at Patton, dumbfounded. “What... did you do to him?”

Patton held his hands up in defense faster than he could blink. “This was his own doing. I played no part in it.”

“Damien and I took shots,” Logan answered, partially muffled by Thomas’s shoulder.

“You did what?” Thomas pulled him away to look at his face. “How many did you take?”

“Five,” Patton answered. He knew full well Logan lost track.

“Five?” Thomas struggled to keep his voice down. He cradled Logan’s face. “Logan, you don’t drink. What are you doing taking five shots? Shots of what?”

“Mostly vodka.”

If Thomas’s eyes could get wider, they would have. “Vodka? Straight? Dude, how the hell are you still standing?” He checked over Logan as if the answer would be there somehow. “Why would you do something like that?”

Logan shrugged. “Damien wanted’ta get drunk.”

Princess Leia wandered into the living room, shaking herself out of her sleepiness. Her tail wagged as soon as she saw that her other owners were home.

Logan gasped loudly. “There’s my baby.” He fell to his knees to give her attention. “You’re such a good girl. Yes, you are.” He continued to coo and give her pets and scratches.

“I’m... I’m gonna scream. I’m going to actually scream.” Thomas ran his hands down his face. “There’s no way I’m leaving.”

“Leia, no. Go back to the boys.” Patton pried Logan away from her. “Go. Now.” He pointed out the doorway.

She obeyed after visible hesitation.

Patton worked on lifting Logan to his feet. “Look, I’m going to keep an eye on him. You’re free to stay if you want, but I promise I’m going to make sure he’s okay.” He kept him at his side. “I won’t let anything happen to him. He’ll be fine if you leave.”

Thomas crossed his arms. Patton recognized the face he made almost immediately. It was the same one Logan made when he weighed all possible options. That hard, calculating gaze was something they shared well. “Fine. But I’m calling first thing in the morning.”

Holy shit. He actually agreed? This was the greatest achievement of Patton’s life.

“If I find out anything happened, I’m pushing you down a flight of stairs.”

“If anything happens, I’ll fall down the stairs myself.”

Thomas smirked a little. “I’ll hold you to it.” He patted his pockets to see if he had everything. “Alright. The twins were lovely, as usual, and I look forward to the next time I get to see them. Goodnight -- keep my brother safe,” he pointed at Patton, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Logan sounded like a sad little boy who was told he couldn’t get the one toy he wanted for Christmas.

Thomas sent him a small smile. “I’m afraid so, bear. Patton’s going to be looking after you, okay?” He brushed Logan’s bangs to the side and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

Logan watched him go with the most disappointment Patton had ever seen on his face. He half expected Thomas to change his mind because of it.

“Okay, sweetheart, we’re going to get you some water then you’re going straight to bed.” He led them to the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Logan had to throw up one more time. Or a few times, rather. That seemed to be the end of the fun alcohol adventure. Patton made sure he was finished before giving him more water. On their way to the bedroom, Patton was stopped by a sleepy voice.

“Dad?” Roman called. He sounded half-asleep. “S’everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Your daddy’s just a little sick. Go back to sleep.” He made sure there wouldn’t be any more questions before continuing. He closed the door to the bedroom so Leia wouldn’t get in. As much as Logan loved to have her in here, she wouldn’t be very helpful.

He helped Logan into a clean shirt and guided him to bed. “I’ll be next door if you need something, okay, dear?” He slipped off his glasses. “Get some sleep.”

“Don’t.” Logan caught his wrist before he could leave. “Can’t you stay?” He looked at Patton with such vulnerability it sort of hurt to see.

“Only if you want me to.”

“Please.”

God, Patton couldn’t say no to that face. He slipped into his side of the bed for the first time in way too long. Of course the one night he’s allowed back is the one night Logan isn’t fully cognizant of his actions. In a way, it was almost poetic.

Logan buried his face into Patton’s chest almost immediately. He sighed in contentment, one arm thrown over Patton’s waist for good measure.

Patton hesitated before bringing him closer. The anxious part of his brain insisted that Logan would somehow snap out of this and scream at Patton to get away from him. After all, Logan didn’t invite him back sooner for a reason. But that didn’t happen. Logan seemed more than happy to be so close.

“You know,” he began, already sounding sleepy, “I love you a lot. Maybe too much. You could hurt me all you want and I’d still take you back. If you say sorry. And maybe that’s bad, but I think that’s what I would do. I love you too much to let you go.”

Oh, no. Oh, Logan. Patton kissed the top of his head and tried not to break down into tears. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. He hoped, maybe, it was some sort of drunken nonsense, but he had a sickening feeling it wasn’t. He hated knowing this. He hated knowing that the crap he pulled -- that stupid, idiotic mistake that broke Logan’s heart -- wouldn’t have been the nail in the coffin of their relationship. As angry as Logan was, as upset as he was, he always planned to give Patton a second chance. It wasn’t comforting to know that.

If Patton was a lesser man than he already was, he would have used that to his advantage. He would have screwed Logan over, again and again, knowing he would be able to come back if he acted sorry enough. But someone already did that before, didn’t they?

Patton didn’t want to be anything like that person. He wanted to be as far away from them as he could get because Logan deserved someone so much better than that. Maybe the person he deserved wasn’t even Patton at all, but Patton was the person he chose. The least he could do was be a good husband. Logan deserved that and a million more things. He deserved to think more highly of himself, for one. One problem at a time, though, the most immediate problem would be the hangover tomorrow.

Patton woke up with a start. 

For a moment, he didn’t believe he was in his bedroom, but then he recalled the night before. He didn’t remember falling asleep. He still had his clothes and glasses on. Then he noticed he was alone. Before he could come up with a possible scenario, he heard throwing up in the bathroom. Uh oh. It wasn’t even morning yet.

He hurried down the hall. “Are you okay, bumblebee?” He asked from the doorway.

Logan glared at him from his hunched-over position. That answered that, then.

“Is Daddy okay?”

Patton turned to see Virgil, asleep on his feet. “What are you doing up?”

“I lost rock paper scissors.” He yawned.

“Daddy isn’t feeling well tonight. He’ll be fine --” he caught himself before he said ‘tomorrow’. There was no way in hell Logan would be functional tomorrow -- “later. Now go back to sleep. I have it handled.”

Virgil didn’t need to be told twice.

Patton sat with Logan until he finished throwing up. He knew from experience what a miserable time this was, but that also meant he knew how to make it more manageable. He gave Logan things to settle his stomach then practically carried him back to bed. They both fell asleep in no time at all.

When morning came, Patton called out of work. He also called Thomas to take the twins and Princess Leia. There was no way he was leaving Logan’s side today. Judging from the late-night vomiting, and heavy sleeping, this would be a rough first hangover. He decided to sit in bed and scroll through random apps until Logan decided to wake up.

“Oh my God,” Logan groaned. He rolled over so his face would be in his pillow.

Patton couldn’t help the smirk that played at his lips. “Well, good morning, sleeping beauty. How do you feel?”

“I think I’m dying.”

“I can assure you you’re not.” He put away his phone and laid back down. “It’s just a hangover. You’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Logan groaned again. He moved his head to look at Patton. “How do you never feel like this after drinking?”

“Years of practice.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely not getting that.” He flipped over and threw an arm over his eyes. “That’s the last time I drink anything ever.”

Patton smiled in amusement. “How much do you remember?”

“Honestly? I blacked out after the second shot.”

“That explains why you kept going.”

Logan shot up, eyes wide. “I kept going?” That clearly wasn’t the right move. He grimaced and curled in on himself, a wounded sound leaving his throat. “Why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

“Do you really think I’m in a position to stop you from doing anything?”

“Fair point.” Logan laid back down as slowly as possible. “God, this is the worst.” He bumped his fingers against Patton’s.

“Well,” Patton took his hand, “I’m here to help you through it.”

~~~

@actitus-hypoleucos

[haikyuu-matches]

🦚 3/3.) Um so I believe in soulmate. I'd like to have someone who can understand me and love me as a whole. Someone that will treasured me, spoiled me, basically just showered me with their love. Honest- loyal- funny- kind, those are the thing that I'm looking for in a partner. I'm a touch-starved person so I always want their full attention, I won't ask for it first tho- I'm just gonna wait and sulk 😅 Wheew thats it, hope you don't mind with long desc, thank youuu ❤ p.s : I can't anon this:(

🦚2/3). Move on to my personality, I'm an enfp, taurus and gryffindor. I love to talk, and yes I am loud (I can be sarcastic sometimes) 😅 Despite being a happy go around type of girl, I actually have a lot of insecurity. I hate myself and got depressed easily, but I'm good at hiding it behind my clownery haha. I love singing, playing games, sleeping and tarot reading. I'm shy to people that I found attractive and I'm a hopeless romantic. So to sum it up I am pretty childish wheeee 🤸🏻‍♀️

#🦚 1/3 ). Hey hey! can I ask for a romantic match up ? 🥺 I'm an 159cm omnisex asian girl. I'm chubby so I look smol. long black wavy hair and I always let it down. People say I look rude and cold so they are afraid to befriend me first (some even hates me for no reason), istg its only my resting bih face (but yes I can fight, verbally and physically.) I don't care about style or brand, I only wear comfortable clothes that looks good on me. I love perfume, so yes I smelled good.

˚✶⋆｡˚☆ﾟ✦

hey, you lovely bean !  just wanna say that i’m so grateful for your patience & i truly hope you like your match !!  (´｡• ▽ •｡`)

˚✶⋆｡˚☆ﾟ✦

i match you up with . . . 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔 !!

firstly, i just want to say that i really think you’d fit kuroo’s type -- with your long wavy hair & your smol stature. right off the bat, he’d think you’re adorable.

the fact you smell good all the time?? like, not to be creepy but he legit can tell when you’re around because he notices the exact perfume you’re sporting (he’s observant like that) & honestly the scent becomes comforting to him-- 

i headcanon that once you guys become that cute couple, he will for sure initiate that back hug, which consists of him pulling you, from behind, so very close to him & the next thing you know, he’s resting his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling you & slightly breathing in your scent at the same time??

you smell irresistible okay, how could he not-

on a different note, kuroo is the type to look beyond any preconceptions surrounding anyone, including you; he has high interpersonal intelligence (surprise surprise jk), so he’ll disregard any badmouthing & see for himself who you truly are. like, people hating others before they even know them? yeah, that’s lame. 

to sum it up, kuroo doesn’t regret meeting you. he’s still a little taken aback by the fact that people are hating you & saying you look rude ‘n cold?? just . . . how is that possible? last he checked, you seemed shy. . . at least to him, but overall, a total happy-go-lucky sort of girl!

in all reality, maybe you do have a resting bih face, but the thing is he’s kind of immune to that? kuroo doesn’t really take it as you look irritated; he’s used to kenma’s apathetic-looking face & he knows that sometimes people can’t help but look the way they do? he concludes that even if you did have a rbf, it’s unintentional & doesn’t represent you as a whole by any means.

he’s not one to judge appearances anyway-- he gets a lot of shade thrown his way for his “rooster head” & the belief he’s a “sly and scheming captain.” he can relate to the fact of being kinder or just overall different than what the exterior image seems to show. with that said, however, he will be mildly surprised by the fact you can fight?? in his book, that’s pretty neat & he’ll probably try to flirt by saying he can fight, too. fight for you that is- 

back to the topic of appearances, even if you do see yourself as “chubby”, kuroo would shower you with love regardless. 

kuroo doesn’t discriminate & he’d treat you like a queen that you are. you’re looking for someone who will treasure you? spoil you? understand you? just love you for all that you are worth?? look no further, kuroo is your guy !!

kuroo really checks off all your boxes for what you’re looking for in a partner because he’ll definitely make you feel whole. also taurus x scorpio is cute. as mentioned before, he’s observant & while he’s not, by any means, perfect, he’ll strive to put you first & put a smile on your face. 

he’s still kuroo, so i mean, at times it’ll be a trial and error kind of thing (perhaps his provoking nature being the perpetrator in fights), but he’s more intuitive than he may appear?? so, he’ll reconcile & apologize when it’s needed; he’s not that kind of prideful to refuse to talk things out.

kuroo will also take note of your insecurity & how you use your clownery as a mechanism to hide this aspect of yourself. you best believe he will be that supportive boyfriend. especially when it’s just the two of you, he won’t hesitate in speaking his truths whether it be saying how you’re amazing and you’re beautiful and he’s so lucky to have you or just gushing about your overall being, from your endearing personality to your cool hobbies (like the fact you sing?? so darn impressive--)

he’s actually more sweet than people give him credit for--

in any case, he simps hard when you’re smiling or just laughing or just have that joyful look on your face-- he wants you to always be in happy spirits. . . at the very least when you’re around him, but for now, he’ll lightheartedly tease you & basically relish in you fighting back with your own words & sarcastic comments.

it’s his funny way of showing that he cares about you.

you two never shut up by the way. like, the art of conversation? you guys take it to the next level. you probably engage in the most randomest of conversations, and yet you two just don’t tire of speaking to one another?? like the flow of conversation just works with you two & you’ll find yourselves talking for hours but it feels like not a minute has past! 

this is probably due to kuroo being like a lowkey nerd with big-brain tendencies & you being so gifted at talking (because you love doing so).

side note, kuroo will even be open to talking about tarot cards with you despite his initial suspicion- it just goes to show he’s not that well-versed in the subject, but he’d be eager to learn since you’re into that.

since you won’t outwardly ask for affection or attention, he’ll end up picking up on those small cues over time. if you seem at all restless or have that sulking expression, he’d have that smirk of his grace his features because you look so flipping cute. but not to fear, he’ll then be quick to draw you in for a cuddle sesh if you’re hanging at home or if you’re out in public, he doesn’t mind initiating that kind of pda where he just embraces you, wrapping his arms around you tightly because it’s a way for him to showcase how much he truly loves you.

do it back to him & he melts-- he’ll basically combust if you surprise him like that because he doesn’t realize how much he loves you showing your affection toward him, with his heart beating irregularly and such. 

i feel like kuroo can be kind of doting?? even if you’re pretty childish, he honestly wouldn’t mind because you just give him a sense of purpose. like, he can naturally fulfill the role of protecting you & giving you the love you deserve. it’s not to say he’ll baby you per say, but he harbors a sense of protectiveness when it comes to you, which he may not even realize at first.

basically, under the veneer of his teasing personality lies his caring & warm nature. the kind that you are looking for!

he’s totally soft for you & he’ll admit that he would probably do anything for you if you’d say the word. 

you probably won’t (at least at first), but that’s okay because he’ll figure it out.

honestly your relationship with kuroo would just consist of you two hanging out, enjoying each other’s company, and just doing those cute couple things. you two probably learn new things about each other every day... but anyway, you two could honestly just be out and about & people will be out here jealous of that because you two look like soulmates adjksdljgl. it’d be so cute !

possible runner-ups:

daichi sawamura

osamu miya

˚✶⋆｡˚☆ﾟ✦

— lily ! ♡