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forzalando · 3 months

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Seeing Someone

Lando Norris x friend!reader (female reader)

summary: Lando is finally ready to tell you how he feels when he overhears you say that you've started seeing someone - but overheard conversations aren't always what they seem. wc: 5.5k author's note: a few disclaimers: 1. let's all pretend that everyone has to spend a few weeks at MTC before the start of the season and they commute to/from London. 2. therapy and mental health help are so important - i purposefully left some things vague because people go to therapy for a variety of reasons and it should be normalized! i also didn't want things to get too heavy or potentially upset anyone by choosing to elaborate on something they relate to/hits a little too close to home. 3. this was inspired by a post i saw on my dash that said "when you said you were seeing someone i was hoping you meant a therapist". this originally started out more light-hearted, but the angst came out and i couldn't stop. feeling a little insecure about this one - thoughts and feelings in the comments/reblogs/my inbox would be so cherished and appreciated :) once again, special shoutout to @sof1shticated for being my beta reader. couldn't do this without you, Mel! warnings: mentions of reader going to therapy, mentions of reader drinking, a few curse words (i think), and angst! but there is a happy ending (even if it's a little open-ended)

Lando had searched the entirety of McLaren HQ at this point and started to worry – you were quite literally nowhere to be found. Usually, this wouldn’t phase him, since you were notorious for getting distracted or caught up in conversation with everyone you came across. You especially found ways to delay leaving MTC when you had to be there physically – the commute from HQ back to London each day was objectively the worst part of everyone coming together in the weeks leading up to each new season.

Today, however, the two of you had plans to get dinner at your favorite restaurant in London and you would never miss a chance to devour your favorite scallop risotto, cheese garlic bread, several glasses of wine, and a heaping mound of tiramisu for dessert.

He stopped speed-walking abruptly when he saw a familiar head of brown hair out of the corner of his eye.

“OSCAR,” Lando shouted, his speed-walk turning into a run. “Oscar, have you seen Y/N? She told me to meet at her office at 5:00pm but it’s 5:30pm and she is literally missing. She better have a good excuse, I hate being late.”

“Missing? Are you sure she’s not just caught up in a meeting? I saw her heading to Zak’s office around 4:45pm, did you check there?”

“Zak’s office, of course! The one place I didn’t check. Thanks, Osc, you’re the man.”

Oscar rolled his eyes – “Anytime, Lan. What are you running late for? Hot date?”

Lando didn’t miss the wiggle of Oscar’s eyebrows and slight smirk. It wasn’t a secret to the Australian that Lando had a crush on Y/N – although Lando had never confirmed or denied it, it was pretty obvious to anyone who spent more than 30 seconds around them.

“Ah, something like that,” Lando said nonchalantly, a bashful blush making its way to his cheeks.

“Good luck, mate!” Oscar threw a wave over his shoulder as he heard the retreating sound of Lando’s trainers smacking against the floor.

In truth, although you and Lando were just friends and Lando was terrified he may ruin that, he had plans to tell you about his feelings for you that night at dinner. It had been almost a year since you started working for McLaren, and almost a year of Lando pining after you in secret. He spent most days trying to convince himself he was content just being your friend, but he was determined to make 2024 his year. His first win, hopefully of many, maybe even WDC contender material, and finally plucking up the courage to be honest with you.

As Lando hurriedly approached Zak’s office, he could see that the door was slightly ajar and heard your voice trailing through the opening.

“I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Zak. And a massive thank you for approving the time off on such late notice.”

“Anytime, Y/N, you know you’re like family to me and everyone here. You sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, I’m seeing someone. It’s still new so I’m not set on him yet but I have a really good feeling about it, I’m really starting to wish I had called him sooner. He actually suggested the days off, I’m seeing him on Tuesday and hopefully things continue to go well.”

Lando’s heart dropped to his stomach – all week he had been thinking about tonight. How to tell you, how you might react, how nervous he was, and each day he grew even more anxious. He was panicking – what was he supposed to do? How could he sit across from you all night knowing that he’d missed his chance?

“That’s so good to hear,” Zak said earnestly. “Keep me updated and enjoy your days off.”

Lando could hear chairs scraping and scrambled to leave the scene before you walked out of Zak’s office to find him eavesdropping. He got about 50 feet down the hallway before he heard your voice from behind.

“Lan,” you shouted. “I’m so sorry, I’m totally late but I had to meet with Zak about something and his last meeting went way over.”

You jogged a little to catch up to him – a bright smile on your face that made his heart rate skyrocket and his palms grow sweaty. He couldn’t see you feeling like this. Not tonight, not when he could barely keep himself from telling you that he would be a much better boyfriend than whoever you were dating.

“We still on for dinner? I grabbed everything I needed from my office before I met with Zak so if we leave right this second and ignore the speed limit, they may seat us,” you bumped his shoulder as you joked.

Unable to help himself, only thinking about how hurt he was even though you’d done nothing wrong, Lando blurted out an excuse. “Actually, I was trying to find you to tell you I can’t make it.”

He tried not to react when he saw your face fall a little, but he told himself it was because you were disappointed about the last-minute change in plans and not that he wasn’t going.

“You should still go though,” he offered quickly. “I’m sure you have someone you could take with you!”

Your eyes spotted Oscar across the hallway and you smiled slightly – it had been a while since you had spent time with him and you knew he was having a rough week.

“Yeah, I have someone in mind,” you mused, focusing your eyes back on Lando. “Is everything ok? Are you not feeling well?”

“No, I’m fine, I just forgot I have plans.”

“Well, we had plans. You scheduled over me?”

“It’s a last-minute thing. Date thing. Last-minute date thing.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “Oh, that’s great!” You plastered a fake smile on your face – hoping that he was just as oblivious now as he apparently is to your feelings. “I hope you have a great time, she’s a lucky girl! I’ll see you on Wednesday, I’m taking a couple days off!”

Before he had a chance to say anything else, you sped off in search of Oscar to bribe him to accompany you to dinner. While you set off across the room, Lando smacked himself in the forehead and groaned.

“Why did you tell her it was a date, you idiot,” he mumbled to himself. Now, it was his turn to speed walk through McLaren HQ, but if he had turned around just for a moment, he would have caught you stopped in your tracks staring at him longingly as he walked away.

You shook your head and sighed, continuing your quest to find the younger McLaren driver and rope him into an evening filled with good food and, if you were being honest with yourself, probably a few tears.

A few moments later, you spotted floppy brown hair bouncing as Oscar walked toward the employee parking lot.

“Oscar!” You yelled after him, increasing your pace to catch up to him.

“Hey,” he said, confusion evident on his face, “I thought you were going out with Lando?”

“He’s got a date,” you blurted. “He has a date and he canceled on me and it’s fine. I am fine. But I want my scallop risotto and tiramisu so you’re coming with me.”

“Sure, Y/N, lead the way.”

Oscar was, to put it extremely lightly, confused. Lando was completely enamored by you – anyone with eyes could see it. Oscar was wholly convinced that Lando was going to officially ask you out at dinner tonight, especially after the brief conversation they had while you were late to meet up with him.

Yet, here he was, sat across from you in a dimly lit room as you sipped on your third glass of wine and, with all the subtlety of a neon sign, wiped a tear from your lower lash line.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for him, I’m so happy for him. But canceling last minute is a dick move, right? It’s a dick move. I know I’m just his friend, sometimes I feel like just a colleague, but I’m not being dramatic, right?”

Oscar stared at you blankly – his eyes wide and a look of pure fear on his face. He considered himself good at most things, great at quite a few, but comforting a crying woman was bottom of the list of Oscar Piastri’s skills.

“It’s totally a dick move,” he nodded his head eagerly in agreement. “I just don’t get it – when I saw him earlier he was frantic trying to find you. I think he’d scoured the entirety of MTC, he was out of breath when I found him.”

“Well, at least he had the decency to find me and tell me in person that he planned on ditching me.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it, it didn’t seem like he was trying to find you to tell you that. He complained about being late and when I asked him if he had a hot date, he blushed.”

“He is literally on a hot date.”

“Ok, well, when I asked him I meant did he have a hot date specifically with you.”

You scoffed and set your glass down – as much as you loved Oscar and you knew he’d never judge you, if you had any more wine you’d end up sobbing and not just wiping stray tears away.

“As if! Lando has never once made a move on me even though I flirt, or at least try to flirt, with him any chance I get.”

“You flirt with Lando?”

“I made him a personalized Spotify playlist, had Stroopwafels overnighted to him from The Netherlands after Vegas, bought him a sweater for his birthday with a card that said ‘to match your eyes’, and I compliment him every time I see him.”

“That’s your idea of flirting?”

“Well, yes.”

“Y/N, that’s just being nice to people. You’re nice to everyone. Lando is not going to understand that you’re a little extra nice to him and that means you’re trying to woo him.”

You huffed and slumped in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Ok, well, how would you flirt with Lando?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that question?”

“Yes because apparently you know all about flirting! And by the way, Logan thought I was coming onto him when I was just being nice so some people would consider my actions flirtatious.”

“That doesn’t count, Logan thinks Uber drivers are flirting with him when they say ‘have a nice day’.”

You and Oscar shared a laugh at the mention of your mutual friend – somehow an even more hopeless case than you in the world of romance.

Your laughs turned to giggles and eventually died down completely. A sigh climbed its way out of your throat, the sudden change in your mood evident to Oscar.

“It doesn’t matter anyway – he’s seeing someone so no more trying, and according to you failing, to flirt.”

“You don’t know how serious it is, maybe this was a first date and it’ll go horribly. He definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend if that’s what you’re worried about, he was just saying the other day that Lily and I make him feel painfully single. We can ask him about it on Monday!”

You frowned a bit and tried to recover, but Oscar noticed the way your face fell slightly. “I’m actually taking a few days off, I need some personal time. I won’t be back at MTC until Wednesday.”

“Is everything ok? You don’t have to tell me but if you need anything, you know I’m there for you, right?”

You smiled at Oscar – it was a rare thing to find such great friends in the people you worked with, but you got so incredibly lucky with the McLaren team, especially Lando and Oscar. “I know that, Osc. You’re a gem.”

With a nod of understanding, Oscar changed the subject to something more pleasant, and you enjoyed the rest of your evening with your friend.

When Wednesday morning rolled around, you felt like your stomach might explode from nerves. You had resisted texting Lando over the past few days to ask about his date, you didn’t want to seem too eager and hoped it would come up naturally in conversation during the day. You hadn’t talked to Oscar much, though he’d texted you a few times to check in, but you wondered if he had talked to Lando at all and if he had details on how well Lando’s date went.

You arrived at MTC fairly early, hoping to get a head start on your day. Winter break was nearly over, and you were swamped with finalizing everything for the start of the 2024 season. It wasn’t until lunch that you saw Lando at all and he just so happened to be waiting in your office, sitting comfortably in your chair, while you were walking back from your latest meeting.

“Lando! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh,” he scrambled. “I was just…I don’t know really. I guess I wanted to see you, we haven’t talked in a few days since you’ve been out.”

“Well, we’ve both been busy. You could’ve texted me. How was your date?”

“It was good. Great. How about yours?”

You smiled remembering your evening with Oscar, assuming he had told Lando at some point that he had accompanied you. “Honestly so fun, we had the best time. I hope we get to do it again soon.”

Lando cringed – jealousy rearing its ugly head as he looked down at his feet before answering. “Same, I’ll probably go out with her again this weekend.”

“Good for you,” you gritted. “I’m glad you had fun. I actually have a million things to do so if there’s nothing important…”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to see you. I guess we’ll catch up soon? Hope you enjoyed your days off.”

Mustering up a fake smile, you told him definitely, awkwardly standing as he rose from your desk and left your office. As soon as he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear you, you groaned. The tension between you and Lando was unbearable, though you didn’t understand why it seemed to mostly be coming from him. Before you had a chance to think any further, you could hear your phone buzzing from inside your bag and begrudgingly pulled it out to see a text from Oscar.

did you go on a date over the weekend?

no? why are you asking me that?

well then why did lando just sit across from me and say ‘did Y/N tell you anything about her date?’

he was just in my office, I asked him how his date went and he asked about ‘mine’. i assumed he was talking about Friday and that you told him i brought you?

i never told him, i guess he thought you brought a real date?

You paused before responding to Oscar, confusion evident on your face and in your lack of response. Before you could type out a reply, two more texts came in.

ok something is up because i just told him that i went with you on friday and he said “i know, i saw you in her insta story in the reflection of a wine glass, i’m talking about yesterday”

insane that he looked close enough to see me in your wine glass but not the point

i literally haven’t been on a date in two years

let me figure this out

You slid your phone back into your bag and pulled out your laptop – your Lando problems would have to wait until you were at least somewhat caught up after missing two days so close to the start of the season.

Meanwhile, at a conference room table in MTC, Oscar was confused. Which, as of late, was a common occurrence when it came to you and Lando.

“Mate,” Oscar addressed Lando, “if you’re not talking about Friday, what date did you ask Y/N about? She hasn’t been on a date in forever.”

“Well then he must have canceled on her because she was supposed to have plans yesterday, it’s why she took days off.”

“I don’t know the exact reason why she took days off but she told me on Friday that she was and didn’t seem too happy about it. Said it was personal reasons.”

“Going on a date is personal.”

“Not ‘take two days off of work’ personal! Where are you even getting this information?”

Lando looked away sheepishly, afraid to admit to Oscar that he had eavesdropped on a private conversation between you and Zak. With Oscar looking at him expectantly, and a bit like a pissed-off Mum, he blurted it out.

“I heard her talking to Zak! Last week on Friday, when I was looking for her, she was in his office and the door was cracked. She had asked him for a couple days off and talked about how she recently started seeing someone and was seeing him again on Tuesday aka yesterday.”

Now Oscar was really confused. You had cried over Lando publicly on Friday, and he knew you fairly well, which meant there was no way you would be crying over Lando and going out with someone else four days later.

“I think you need to just talk to her because I promise you, she is not seeing someone. Also, what do you care? You ditched her for a date on Friday.”

Oscar had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Lando’s face fall.

“Lando, tell me you didn’t.”

“I might have.”

“Jesus, Lando, you heard 30 seconds of a conversation and decided to lie to her? Because what, your ego took a blow? Some caveman instinct?”

“No, I don’t know, honestly. It just slipped out! I had planned to ask her out for real and when I heard her say ‘I’m seeing someone’, I just didn’t know how to be around her. I couldn’t be around her that night.”

“You need to go talk to her. Apologize. Preferably, immediately.”

Lando jumped up from his seat and sighed. “You’re right. She might kill me, and she has every right to, but I have to talk to her and apologize to her. Wish me luck!”

Before Oscar could do what Lando had asked, Lando raced off towards your office, barely stopping himself from tripping over his own two feet.

Across MTC, you had just settled your mind and gotten into a groove of catching up on emails and making progress on deadlines. As soon as you thought to yourself that the day was going better than expected, your office door flung open and Lando Norris was standing stiff in your doorway.

“Lan, I told you that I’m busy. What is going on?” Annoyance was evident in your voice and Lando cringed knowing that this conversation was probably not going to be very pleasant.

“Why did you take time off?”

Your body straightened in shock, of all the things he could have asked you after bombarding you in your office, you wouldn’t have guessed he would pry into your personal life.

“That’s none of your business, Lando. If you were worried about me, you could have reached out, but I haven’t heard from you since you ditched me on Friday.”

Lando could see the hurt on your face, he could see it evident in your body language. He thought back to how you had looked upset immediately when he told you on Friday that he couldn’t go with you – when he told himself it had nothing to do with you wanting to spend time with him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry for that, it wasn’t – I mean I didn’t, I didn’t want to not go. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Ok, I’m totally lost. You didn’t know what to do about what, Lando?”

He steeled himself for your reaction – something he had learned by being your friend for the past year was that you held trust and truth in high regard. You didn’t like being lied to, and you didn’t like people trying to dig into your life or get information you weren’t willing to share.

“I heard you in Zak’s office. I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose, I swear, I was looking for you because you were late meeting me. Oscar told me you might be with Zak so I went there and the door was open. And I heard you. So I lied and told you that I couldn’t go to dinner, I don’t know why I said I had a date. All I could focus on was how hurt I was, I just couldn’t be around you and then I felt so stupid and terrible for lying so that’s why I didn’t text you at all.”

You were completely and utterly perplexed – you couldn’t even react with anger at the thought of Lando listening to a private conversation and outright lying to you. What could he have overheard that he was so upset about?

“Lando, I’m still confused. What did you hear? How did I hurt you?”

“No, no, you didn’t hurt me. You have no idea how I feel about you – I was going to tell you that night.” Lando was word-vomiting at this point, he never wanted you to find out this way but he couldn’t stop rambling. “I have had feelings for you for so long, and I finally decided that I was going to tell you even if I was convinced you don’t feel the same. And now I know you don’t because you’re seeing someone and – ”

You interrupted him sternly, allowing the anger you were feeling to come forth and shoving down your confusion. “I’m not dating anyone? Is that why you asked Oscar about my ‘date’? Where did you get that idea?”

“You told Zak that you’re seeing someone and that it’s new but things are going good. I heard you say you were seeing him again on Tuesday.”

Your eyes doubled in size – if you weren’t so pissed off, you might have found humor in this, but you felt heat rising to your cheeks and your stomach churned at the thought of divulging your personal struggles.

“Lando, I’m seeing a therapist,” you hissed.

He froze for a moment, then scrambled to shut your door which was still ajar from him barging in.

“A therapist? Are you okay? What’s going on, why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been struggling?”

“No, no, you don’t get to do this right now. You don’t get to make me less angry by being kind and caring.”

“I’m not doing it to make you less angry, Y/N, I genuinely – ”

“I don’t care, Lando! You eavesdropped on my private conversation, misunderstood the context of that conversation, and then you lied to me. You hurt me. And now, because you got your feelings hurt and did things you shouldn’t have done, I have to share something I wasn’t comfortable sharing with you just yet.”

Lando was speechless – you could see the remorse on his face, the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but in that moment you wanted him to feel even worse than you were.

“And you want to know the worst part,” you cried. “I feel the same way about you. I cried to Oscar at dinner because I thought you were with someone else, that you would have rather been at dinner with a different girl.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Can we please just go somewhere and talk? Really talk this out? I know I messed up, but this doesn’t have to change things or how we feel about each other.”

You wanted to, god, did you want to – you knew Lando hadn’t done any of this on purpose. You knew he didn’t have malicious intent and you knew how hurt he probably felt at the idea of you being with someone – it was exactly the way you felt when you thought the same about him.

“I think you should go, Lan”. Despite every part of you wanting to sit and talk, you knew that you needed some time to settle down.

“Ok,” he whispered. “When you’re ready,” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, “if you’re ever ready, you know where to find me.”

His posture made you feel sick as he left your office – Lando was always confident, shoulders back and head held high, but as you watched him through the glass walls surrounding you, he was hunched over. Dejected. You’d only ever seen him that way a few times – after he was torn apart by the media or after making a mistake during a race.

It hurt you to see him that way. But, he had also hurt you, and you needed time.

It had been two weeks since “the incident” with Lando – that’s what Oscar started calling it and it stuck. Fight felt too strong, disagreement felt too weak, so it became something nameless. Undefined. Indeterminate. Exactly like what existed now between you and Lando.

Oscar and Lando were set to leave for Sakhir in a week and you wouldn’t see them again until you joined the team for the Australian GP. If you didn’t work things out with Lando before they left for testing, it would be well over a month without a resolution.

The thought made your eyes burn with tears – you were still upset but more than that you missed Lando. You didn’t even have to wonder if he felt the same because you’d seen him around MTC. He looked just as awful as you, if not worse, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to start a conversation.

You began packing up your things to leave the office, grateful beyond belief that it was a Friday and you’d have two days without seeing Lando’s familiar curls everywhere you turned. At least at home, you would only see them behind closed eyes and wouldn’t have to blink back tears.

A knock at your door startled you, but you assumed it was your team lead looking for your latest analytics report. At least there was one thing you could be happy about – the car data was phenomenal and all signs were pointing to an amazing season for McLaren.

You told whoever was knocking to come in, not looking up from your bag as you rifled through your files. “So sorry, Tom, I meant to bring this to you earlier but I – ”

A throat clearing cut you off, and you looked up to see Lando standing in your doorway with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of those cheesy “I’m sorry” balloons in his left hand. You almost giggled, but then you looked at his face and your heart dropped. Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes - he looked awful.

“I know you said you’d reach out when you’re ready to talk, and I wanted to respect that and give you all the space you need. But, we’re both miserable. At least I think you’re miserable, I know I am. I miss you terribly. I miss my friend. And if that’s all you’ll ever be to me, I can respect that and I will cherish it because the past week has been the worst week of my life.”

“Lando, I – ”

“Please, please let me get all of this out. Please let me apologize.”

You smiled slightly, nodding your head for him to continue.

“I’m sorry for invading your privacy. It wasn’t on purpose but I should have left as soon as I heard you talking because I know how important trust is to you. I violated yours and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you. It doesn’t matter if I was hurt, I could’ve just said I wasn’t feeling well or asked you about what I overheard immediately. After apologizing for overhearing, of course. I’m sorry that it took Oscar talking sense into me for me to come to you in the first place. I’m sorry that I hurt you and I’m sorry that I behaved like a child instead of talking to you about my feelings. My actions made you feel forced to tell me something personal that you weren’t ready to share. I’m so sorry, and I hope you know that I’m here for you always.”

He let out a deep breath and you watched his shoulders relax slightly for the first time in two weeks. You knew he was sorry – you’d known how sorry he was immediately when he started explaining and apologizing the first time around, but you just weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered as you walked towards him and took his free hand in your own. “I know you’re sorry and I know that this was all a misunderstanding that just got out of hand.”

“I am also sorry for springing my feelings on you. I wanted to tell you properly, ask you out properly, but I couldn’t explain myself without telling you. I ruined everything, it was woefully unromantic.”

“Yeah, that was a bit shit, I didn’t get my big grand gesture or anything.”

Lando’s eyes grew wide, a hopeful gleam in them. “I mean, would you – is that something you would still want? I don’t want to pressure you and I don’t want to assume that you still feel the same.”

“I do,” you said softly. “But, I think we should work on really moving past this before we officially jump into anything more.”

“I completely agree. However, I do have a reservation for two in about forty minutes to make up for ditching you, if you’d like to join me? Otherwise, I’ll have to bring Oscar. He won’t stop talking about the cheese garlic bread.”

“No, Lando, you don’t understand. He ordered three baskets. I went home and typed an apology email to Zak for ruining his diet.”

You both erupted in giggles, leaning into each other for support and out of habit. It felt so good to laugh, the weight and stress of the past two weeks rolling off in waves as Lando’s shoulder bumped yours and you heard the unmistakable laughter that you’d come to love so much.

“Maybe we should bring him anyway,” you pondered. “He’s been an exceptionally good friend to us both the past couple of weeks.”

“He can come next time, I’d like you to myself for the evening. If that’s ok?”

“More than ok, Lan. I’ve really missed you.”

He leaned in quickly, kissing your cheek gently and then nuzzling his nose against your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume he’d gifted you for your last birthday. “Not as much as I’ve missed you,” he objected, his eyes glimmering slightly. Wet eyelashes fluttered against your neck as he stayed tucked into your side for a few more moments.

“We’re going to be late,” you whispered, with a sincere lack of urgency.

“Can we go back to my hotel room instead? Watch a movie and order in? Jus’ wanna hold you.”

Your heart constricted – as much as you wanted to tease him and say he owed you a night out and your favorite meal, you wanted nothing more than to spend the night in Lando’s arms.

“Of course, Lan. I think I need that too.”

On the way to Lando’s car, you passed Oscar who gave you both a knowing smile and a short wave. If you asked him if he had been waiting for you guys to leave, he would deny it. He would deny being so invested in your reconciliation that he waited close to an hour after he could leave for the day to make sure you were both ok. He would also deny that he tracked both of you and when it dawned on him that you were skipping your dinner, he sped to that little Italian place and stole your reservation for an order (or two) of cheese garlic bread.

He couldn’t resist sending a poorly taken picture to the group chat with the three of you and you burst out laughing when you opened it.

“Lan, Oscar somehow stole our dinner res,” you giggled, turning your phone to show Lando an unmistakable basket of bread and a follow-up text with several heart emojis.

Lando held his phone up to snap a quick selfie of you two cuddled up in bed, him leaning in for the second time that evening to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. Almost immediately after it delivered, your phones lit up with another text from Oscar.

HOT DATE FR THIS TIME?

You and Lando looked at each other and smiled, the mutual understanding of where you stood with your feelings evident.

not quite yet, but soon :)

#lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader

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callmeghostly · 4 months

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Okay, well this is going to be different from my horny weeb content but I don't know where else to post it...

TW: Mental Health discussions, trauma dumping (possibly), General Angst

if you are not in a good headspace to read this, don't. please - Take care of yourself, I'll be back to my regularly scheduled shit posting after this brief message.

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Okay -

To make a long story short, I'm.. I don't know what is going on anymore. I feel like a shell of myself, an empty husk.

To clarify;

these last few months I have been back and forth about being an absolute shell of myself, In November I lost my job without any real reason - Not to worry though, I started a new job this past Tuesday, this will come back up later.

I also have been in a relationship for the last, almost 6 years (again, this comes into play shortly)

Now, none of you know who i am, or what I am like outside of this chaotic website, which is why I'm sharing it here. I have been slowing spiraling and I have no one to talk to about it so I'm going to scream it into the fucking abyss and hope that works.

This last week while it should've been happy and refreshing, has been absolute bullshit and hell in a handbasket. I've been feeling some type of way about my relationship for months now - Am i comfortable? you're supposed to feel like roommates after the initial honey moon phase, he's just not the affectionate type, Etc. The more time I spend online the more i don't find myself 'awwing' at couples, I feel jealous, unloved and unwanted - I'm 24, I should know that EVERYONE on the internet is only going to show the best side of themselves, and I do.. so I can't help but find myself confused over all of this. I've noticed I've pulled away from him, not becuase I want to necessarily. Heres the thing, I know he cares - He wouldn't have been there for me through half of the things he has been if not, but at this point I feel cared for - not loved, and only cared for out of obligation.

On top of this, I feel like my strongest assets are not knowing how to communicate with people effectively and by proxy, pushing those people away.

I feel like the fights I get into, both with my partner and my friends, are due to lack and breaks in communication in tone. Which is definitely something I need and am trying to work on.

In this last week I have gotten into, verbal disagreements we'll say, with two of the people in my life, on the same day and ever since then, I've been foggy mentally.

So, lets wrap back around -

I started my new Job this past Tuesday, it was fine - however due to my fucked sleep schedule from being out of work for 2 months I had been up since 12am and I had to set through training from 8:30-5. I was fucking tired and ready to just crash, however that same night content that I had been waiting on dropped, now something to note - My partner and I have a 2 bedroom apartment, one we use as an office- I get very loud and obnoxious when I see things I enjoy, which he doesn't like to listen to me scream (which is fair) so I told him, possibly rather harshly to admit my own fault, to give me a few minutes becuase I knew I'd be screaming (from excitement) or he could put his headset on, and That pissed him off and other than some hurtful words we didn't talk much therefore ruining both any appetite or enjoyment for the content I was watching, never the less I tried to do both and regardless, my night was soured regardless.

Moving forward from that, I trauma dump on one of my friends - she was so gracious to listen and I would like to be clear, I am in no way trash talking her or this situation. I know she may see this (If you do, Hi I love and appreciate you, I promise) I just... Need to frame the situation. She listened, gave me advice and tried to make me feel better, in turn I came across as an absolute dick, misreading a conversation and upsetting her causing her to log off for the night.

5 days later, I can't shake either of these incidents and to them, life is back to normal, and here I am - Screaming at strangers on the internet for someone to care.

I don't know what to do, I feel like a cornered animal with no outlet or way way of escape - I just, I want to fall in love with being alive again and I feel like that is the worlds hardest ask - I'm slowly shutting myself out and down..

There is no way to wrap this up peacefully, light heartedly, or humorously. There are so many other things I could add to this, and while no one is going to read this - It's gone on for long enough. So, I'll end it here.

Moral of the story; Take care of yourself, try to love yourself first and maybe things will turn out okay for you.

to whoever may see this, I'll always be here for you all if you need someone to that, I promise.

Sincerely,

Ghostly

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stargazingpsychotic · 6 months

Text

Sorry, a very bad rant/personal discussion on partly my distrust of mh services, but also a failing that I have as a psychotic person I suppose

A few years ago I had a very unfortunate conversation with a friend of mine. I was in a bad situation and been pushed around loads of different people in mental health services, lots of sleepless nights at a&e, a few visits to wards or places with unreasonable conditions (was either unable to sleep because that wasn't it's purpose despite being there 10 days, or so cold that no one could sleep with a tiny sheet as bedding to cover us in the coldest of winter).

One of these times I was under section, I had tried to kill myself, not because of some delusion or impulsive action because of voices or whatever had been the reason before, but because I felt it all coming back into psychosis. I decided I'd rather leave then than let myself spiral and have to go through it all again.

Because when I have had attempts in the past before that often it felt out of my control, and like I wasn't going to die, I was just going to leave my body. I wasn't scared of doing that most of the time, and any time I was I'd contact someone who'd help me get to where I needed to go.

I was sent home from that hospital being told they knew I'd hurt myself but they didn't have a reason to keep me there (I was happy with this because I'd at least be warmer). But, as I had tried to get across, I did end up in an episode again.

At some point during this I was, for a short time, scared. I knew I was going to do something, I knew I could justify it as me not dying but escaping, I knew it would hurt but it wouldn't result in my existence ceasing, and I'd be happier for it. But I was scared for a bit, enough to go out and get to the hospital and do my best to explain what was happening, how I was scared, but it doesn't last. Knowing I would do it when I got home from there. And that day really ruined any hope I had.

First they kept me in over night, which was fine, but I did get a bit agitated since I started thinking this was pointless and they were going to trick me or trap me, not without the person I spoke to telling me I'd be a bad friend for doing it. The next morning I see someone else, never seen her before, but she comes in and starts talking. I have to repeat what I said, but differently, this time less fear and more matter of fact. This is going to happen because I have to, and I will be fine. Nothing bad will ultimately happen, I will just move on. And it all resulted in her saying 'just don't do it'. And, sure. I might, if I'm being generous, see how maybe that could slightly help. But this isn't a choice for me. I have to do this. It isn't the first time either, so it isn't like a whole new thing for me.

I'm sent home. I take so many pills it should have done a reasonable amount of damage even if it didn't kill me.

About a week later my friends get in touch and I mention about what happened the week before. I didn't want to bother them because that would mean I was a bad friend for getting them involved. But I wasn't going to lie.

Someone comes over and talks and we go back to the hospital and end up seeing the same person who I saw in the evening a week before. She really went all in on the bad friend thing, as well as explaining how I was going to die in the next couple weeks in a lot of detail and using someone who did die as an example of how I would admit how big a mistake it was and I'd be begging to live. That has never sat well with me. Well I was sent home and that was that.

The conversation I mentioned at the beginning was essentially how I have just had to accept that I might die one day, by my own hands, and not necessarily because I know I'm going to die but because I know I won't die but move on. It won't kill me, just give me the chance to move on. I wanted to kill myself before the episode I felt coming on because at least I would know I would die and it would be easier to understand than me saying confidently that I'm not going to die if I do whatever it is that would kill me.

It's been over 4 years since then. I've had at least 3 (maybe 5) episodes like this since. None have been taken with the seriousness I need to think I could trust the mental health services when it is like this.

One of them I was told I'm not worth helping. Two went on without much involvement because I couldn't even tell anyone and I'm lucky I could claim some other illness during that time because I did not want to waste my time with them. Another it was all apparently because I'm trans (which was what they believed after I, again, did my best to explain the situation).

These last few months have been the same. I wrote it all out. I explained the past. I explained how I act during it and how I really don't want to end up there again, so doing anything to try and prevent it would really help.

Of course I wasn't taken seriously. The doctor decided, over and over, that I can just not think whatever I think. He could say that I can get over it and not end up there.

I'm not faultless here. I went off my meds, and then a few months later, realising this was a mistake, I tried to say I should go back on them, and he said no. I made it difficult because everything I was asked always came back to 'i can't work with you because it would trap me and I have to go home (not earth)'. I made mistakes, ones which might have been prevented if I wasn't put on meds that didn't help at all, but still down to me.

I also realised, early in the year, or last year, my body is dead, this happened 4 years ago, when I had that really bad attempt and experience with them. It's being kept alive by something else, when I'm asleep they are able to reset some control over me and that's why sleeping is bad for me. My flesh is rotting away and I can see that and people are being weird by not mentioning it ever. So I'm not trying to kill my body, instead exhaust the person or people keeping it going by harming it over a long period of time.

I did explain this to them, I really tried, I was scared because I know how awful I feel withholding water and sleep and anything else which should help me. I spent ages trying to fight this, living with a contradiction of having to leave but needing help.

Unfortunately, months of it not being treated, and the most advice being 'don't do that', I have ended up mostly believing this. And I know what happens next. Because I keep having visions, I know how this ends. Either in my being trapped here forever, or leaving by causing enough harm.

On top of that I have to deal with angels being sent to watch and interfere. My family being swapped out constantly, so much that whatever they have become, all they want is for me to die. The world is controlled by It, so no one can be trusted, not really. And I have to appear like nothing is going on (I'm really bad at this).

I feel abandoned. All the talk of how suicide prevention matters, but when I try my best to get out of this, knowing I need to work with others, when I can work with them they refuse, and when it gets into the worst of it, well there's still no support, at least most the time nothing changes.

The cycle will continue until either it just stops and never happens again because of whatever, or I die. And I die not believing I'm going to die but believing I will move on, far off into the universe, going home, where I can finally feel safe for once.

And then there's the contact numbers. So I have to phone people as a way of asking for support, the problem is this is either things like mindline or Samaritans (we know they can't help, especially for psychosis, years ago friends tried with me and yeah, it isn't something I can be talked out of), or the mental health services themselves, which haven't ever come to anything helpful. It doesn't help I struggle with phonecalls and talking in general, especially about myself.

What bothers me more is none of this touches on the dissociation and lost time, on the anxiety and fears I have which get in the way, nor my lacking in various things people are generally expected to do without support.

It's frustrating. And part of it is I don't know what can help me because I don't have any experience in that and I don't know what options there are when the doctor says no to meds and therapy is dependent on nothing leading me to 'i have to go home' - which, when someone talks about any random thing can do this and my reaction usually results in some degree of harm coming to me, either slight or an attempt on my life, then it doesn't feel safe going in without meds to at least calm this down.

I'm fed up. I'm tired. I know where things are going because I have to change doctor and this won't be quick either. But since this current one has decided I can just get over it, despite my past and everything I have told him, I cannot risk another appointment when he doesn't have my best interests there at all.

I have to go home and this could easily happen while under the impression I will not die, and that terrifies me that I have to accept that because there's no support for me in this situation.

Maybe it's what I deserve for getting stuck in this world in the first place.

#for me #more my reference #but i am so alone in this #i just want to go back in time and have someone to hug #i hate how much of my life has been ruined by this and my failings as a person and the nhs being not much better #i. today in october. am having moments of fear and more times of indifference on it #and only a few months ago i felt like i was begging while in conflict with myself

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yuzuparfait · 1 year

Text

ADHD and Superpowers (Non-Fiction)

Prompt 7: An exploration of the impact of mental health on a young adult's daily life, and the author's personal experiences and journey to seek help and overcome it.

They say ADHD gives you superpowers. But respectfully, I’m going to have to disagree. Whoever tells you that outright is a liar who probably doesn't have the condition for themselves. Unless you count being able to rant about every single detail about my favourite fictional characters for hours at a time a superpower, then maybe I do have one. Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder is a blanket term for the three types of ADHD out there, which are Inattentive, Hyperactive, and Combined. Unsurprising for everyone, I leaned heavily towards the Inattentive side of ADHD.

To some, getting a diagnosis makes them feel as if they've been pushed towards a steep ledge overlooking a deep chasm that they have no choice but to jump into. Standing on it makes their knees shake, and the darkness lying beneath seems endless and all consuming. That Chasm has a name, though, for it is the Chasm of Acceptance.

The Chasm of Acceptance feels like a death sentence to most. For many, the hardest part of receiving a diagnosis is having to come to terms with the fact that there is something different about you, even when all you have ever wanted in life was to fit in, to be normal, just like all the other people around you. But when I found myself standing on that very same ledge at the age of seventeen, neither sadness nor anger were there to greet me. Instead, joy and relief took my hands in theirs, and led me straight towards it. When I looked down from where I stood, I wasn't met with darkness or grief, instead the chasm seemed welcoming and bright, filled with hope for the future. And so I jumped, a smile stretching across my face as I allowed myself to fall straight into the Chasm, eager for a chance at new beginnings.

Looking back at it, it should've been obvious that I was a little different compared to the other kids. When I was younger, I constantly jumped from one hobby to another, my attention would always stray towards other things that seemed much shinier and fun than what I was currently doing. From piano lessons to swimming courses and even ballet, I never stayed put long enough to learn much past the basics.

Even with my short attention span aside, as a kid, my parents would laugh about how talkative I was. In fact, my mother still jokes that I could probably talk circles around people for days on end without actually getting to the point. But eventually, people get tired of hearing what a kid has to say, and I grew to realise that I talked so much that was barely listening, or even giving others the room to speak.

I never had much issue with my mental health up until high school. I even graduated from primary school as a Straight A student with my name featured on the high achiever list for both English and Maths for the sixth year in a row. But maybe it was the new scenery, or the cocktail of emotions that burst through the dam of whatever emotional regulation a person has prior to hitting their teens, maybe even a little mix of both, but high school was where it all fell apart.

The moment I stepped into that bright yellow building, I felt a major part of me shrivel up and wither away. I was apart from the friends I had known all my life, and while I was a social and peppy person who loved meeting new people, the problem arises, however, when people don’t like meeting you. I thought I had found a new group of friends I enjoyed talking to, but in my second year, one of them had grown jealous of how close I had gotten to their best friend, and decided that the easiest way to get rid of me was by ruining my image in the eyes of the school. She started spreading rumours that I had celebrated the fact that their best friend’s mother had passed away from cancer, and just overnight, everyone had avoided me as if I were a sickly Victorian child who had been bitten by a diseased rat and now carried the black plague.

I spent the next two years in a haze of depression and self-loathing, wondering every single day about what exactly I had done to deserve such an experience. Gone was the happy, talkative child I once was, in her place stood the hollowed out shell of my former self. I felt as if I were a tree whose trunk was gutted by parasites, leaving the insides empty and bare while remnants of its bark still remained.

I started eating my lunch in the toilet, and it got to the point where I had my favourite toilet stall to hang out in by myself. I spent the next year or so in a similar fashion, though I did meet some new people I could talk to afterwards. I never really told my parents about anything that was going on since I didn’t want to bother them with even more problems after everything they were going through, but it had felt horrible, being all alone.

Unfortunately for me, that experience had only just marked the beginning of my downward spiral. Though at the time, I hadn’t known just how much further I would plummet. My grades started dropping rapidly, and I became the prime example teachers would use to showcase what to not do in exams. I went from top ten in the year to the 273rd position out of the 300 students or so in my form.

My Maths teacher was relentless. She called me out for every single mistake I had made, and the class would laugh at me every single time. I would do my best to ignore it, but there was only so much a kid can take before well and truly shattering into a million pieces. Because that’s exactly what I was, a kid. Barely scratching the surface of fourteen and being treated as a nuisance and a problem instead of being seen as a person who was practically screaming out for help.

Already unknowingly suffering from a condition that makes my neurons release less dopamine than it already should, the depressive episodes I would get after school were debilitating, and I would practically be bedridden up until I had to get up for classes again the next day. I couldn't bring myself to focus on my studies and all my exercise books and homework laid in a heap by my study table, completely untouched for months on end, it was almost as if they existed just to gather dust. Just the sight of them had made me nauseous, and my brain practically forced me towards other shinier, and more fun things in an attempt to cheer me up.

That was when I discovered my extremely obsessive tendencies towards things that I enjoyed, and when I latched onto a new interest, it would be all consuming. When I first did my research on ADHD many years later, I discovered that these obsessions are often called Hyper-fixations, especially due to the fact that a person will become so intensely fixated on a particular activity or object that they begin neglecting their own well-being for it. I would spend hours upon hours glued to my computer, re-watching the same two movies over and over again in a constant loop as I scrolled through mountains of fanfiction on my phone. I would do anything but study, because when I did, it meant acknowledging that I was so far behind that I couldn’t even hope to catch up.

It all came to a head when I first received my results for PT3. At that point, depression had consumed my entire being, so much so that I barely felt any joy unless I was placing my entire focus on whatever thing I was currently fixating on. It hurt to breathe, and every day I would go to sleep praying to any entity out there that I wouldn't have to wake up and face another day on this mortal plane.

My brother had driven me to school on the day the results were released since my parents were busy with work, and I could never forget the way my heart stopped in my chest when I saw the neatly printed rows of Cs and Ds on that little slip. He yelled at me the entire ride home, and I started wondering if it would be better for everyone if I just disappeared. Maybe life for everyone would improve if I just ran into a forest where no one would have to deal with me again, and let the animals feast upon my corpse before being returned to the earth, six feet under, where I truly belonged.

I started thinking about how the toxic environment I was stuck in had affected my grades, and I finally came clean to my parents about the bullying. I begged my mother to let me transfer over to another school nearby, the one where my childhood friends were studying at. My friends had even joined in and texted my mother about all the things they would help me with if I moved there. To my surprise, she had agreed.

I vividly remember the day before I left that school. It was February, and I was in my fourth year. A teacher had yelled at me to stand up before screaming at me for not doing the assigned homework. In retaliation, I had told her that I didn't care about doing her homework since I wouldn’t be there next week anyway. She went silent. I still remember the sneer on her face, the pent up anger shining in her eyes when she asked me, “Do you really hate this place so much?” and I stood there, with everyone’s eyes burning through me in the renewed silence of the classroom. I could practically feel the disgust and hatred shine through the various shades of brown that were staring at me, glaring holes into my back as they awaited my response, but all I had to say was “Yes, I do”.

After that class, I spent the rest of the day hiding in a toilet stall until the final bell rang, crying my eyes out as I tried and failed to calm myself down from the never-ending string of panic attacks that just kept coming. It was damp and smelled horribly of various kinds of unwashed excrement that I didn’t even want to think about, but the tears had tasted like succour. I was finally free.

Or at least I thought I was.

When one door closes, another one opens, and sometimes, not all doors lead to where you truly want to go. For a brief moment at my new school, it had felt as if a large weight had been lifted off my shoulders. For the first time in years, I ended the school day with a smile plastered on my face.

But as the weeks dragged by, no matter how hard I tried to pay attention in class, or study for exams, my grades continued to plummet. I would lock myself in my room without any distractions at all, just me and the books I needed for my revision, but not even that worked for me. Every single time I had locked myself in my room with the intent to study, I ended up breaking down and crying my eyes out without fail. My tears had warped the letterings and pages of the many textbooks I owned, and I had felt so ashamed that I could barely go back to leave them out to dry in order to avoid ruining them further.

Despite the nice environment, coupled with the help of my very best friends, the entirety of my fourth and fifth years in high school were a nightmare.

Every day after school I would return to an empty house and the first thing I would do was hang up my keys before falling to my knees and crying. I would prop up my text books and SPM trial papers on my table and cry my way through them, constantly giving up a quarter way through because I could barely see anything through the blur of tears in my eyes and the voices in my head telling me what a failure I was.

Why aren’t my grades improving?

Why am I still stuck in this spiral of failure and depression when everyone is so nice to me?

Why can't I just be happy?

Why? Why? Why?

Am I the problem?

As I laid in my bed at night, I would curl up into a tight ball and wish for my blankets and pillows to suffocate me in my sleep.

Breathing hurt again.

Every inhale had felt like a serrated knife to my lungs, while every exhale felt like a step closer to finally going to sleep for good.

I wanted to be fixed.

I wanted to be the studious daughter my parents wanted instead of whatever this washed up freak I was, devoid of any life and personality.

I felt like I could sense the disappointment in their eyes every time they stared at me, and even though I know now that it was just my overly sensitive brain getting to me, it never erased the all-encompassing anxiety and grief that threatened to swallow me whole.

My fourth year ended just the same as my past three, in a flurry of torn exam papers and uncontrollable tears. Whoever tells you Form 4 is a honeymoon year is lying to you, the only honeymoon I got was a break from the bullying. I never had a Sweet Sixteen either, especially since my parents were busy with work, and my brother was away in England for an internship. I spent the day celebrating by bawling my eyes out at the knowledge that I had failed my Additional Mathematics test for the second time in a row.

When they came home from work with a slice of cake from Secret Recipe despite all the financial troubles we’d been going through, I tried my best to plaster a smile on my face, ignoring the tears that threatened to build up behind my eyes once again.

How could I give my parents a better life if I couldn’t even pass Mathematics?

How embarrassed would I be if I had a daughter as useless as me?

The world kept spinning, and time kept moving. But I was stuck, cemented in the same loop I had been forced to endure for the past year.

Wake up, go to school, come home, cry my eyes out and sleep.

Rinse and repeat.

The only reason why ‘eat’ isn't included in that cycle was because the only things I would consume were cans of coffee and bags upon bags of gummy bears I had bought from the 7-Eleven across the street from school. I felt so nauseous all the time that I could barely eat any real food, let alone keep it down.

If I thought my fourth year was a nightmare, my fifth had threatened to drag me down to the sea floor. I found myself thrashing and flailing for the surface as whatever bits of oxygen I had left were stolen out of my lungs, but the anchor tied to my foot was hell-bent on denying me any chance of making my way back up.

My mother had found a couple of my graded papers and had hesitantly asked if I required any extra tuition. I knew that I could have accepted it, could have grasped onto the hand that reached out to offer me help.

But I had already known myself all too well, back then.

I had known that even if I agreed to take extra lessons, none of the information would stay in my head. The thought of wasting the money my parents barely had on classes that I wouldn't be able to focus on made me feel sick to my stomach. I felt dirty and useless, and spent the entire day raging at how stupid I was, wishing that I could just up and disappear forever. I had known too, back then, that the only reason why I was still breathing was because I was too afraid to drag a knife through my skin.

As more and more boxes on my calendar were crossed off, the date that marked the beginning of SPM drew nearer. But no matter what I did, I could never focus. I spent more days crying that year than days where I would feel a shred of happiness or even just some normality. When my exams finally arrived, I knew that I was doomed. There was zero chance I could even hope to pass Add Maths without some sort of divine intervention. I held back my tears when I realised I had chosen completely different answers from my friends.

Mentally, I was battered and bruised, but in the end, I still managed to survive it. The day after my final paper, I was doom scrolling through Twitter, eager to do anything to snuff out the voices in my head that were screaming at me with junk, desperate to take my mind off how I had probably just ruined my life by failing so many of my papers.

Eventually, I came across a cute comic on Twitter titled ‘Time Blindness’ from an artist going by the username of ‘ADHD_Alien’. After reading through that comic, for the first time in my life, it all clicked into place for me.

I felt seen.

And the knowledge that I wasn't the only freak on earth who had felt the same way was so unbelievably relieving.

I was glued to my phone that entire day, scrolling through all of her other comics and little doodles about what it was like to live with ADHD, and how she had coped with all the stress until the diagnosis she had finally received at the age of twenty-eight. In a comment she had written under her post, she had said “The most important part of recognising you have ADHD is the fact that you can finally give a name to something that was hardly tangible to you before.”

It was then that the realisation hit me, like a speeding car on the edge of a highway, that I probably had ADHD.

Making the conscious choice to take that first step is always the hardest, but I was never a quitter. I was desperate to put a name on the thing that had been plaguing me for so many years, and I refused to stop until I finally did. I spent the next couple months doing more research on ADHD, scrolling through forums where people would talk about their experience with the condition and how some had even gotten diagnosed later in life due to their low levels of hyperactivity. Some were twenty-five, forty, and one was even sixty-eight. Seeing those ages gave me hope that maybe I would get the chance to live that long too, no matter what stood in my way.

Through my research, I also discovered that the overconsumption of sugary foods and caffeine was a common problem for people with ADHD. The human brain gets so desperate for even the barest hint of dopamine that it drives you towards foods that create them, either through the stimulation that’s produced by snacking, or through the chemical release that sugar provides it, all of which definitely explained my addiction to sugar and coffee, as well as the general distaste I had for anything that wasn't sweet.

Nowadays, I can barely get through more than a few sips of a soda if it’s too heavy on the sugar. To the horror of my parents, and the amusement of my brother, I like to joke that it's because my taste buds probably have war flashbacks from the amount it had to go through in just that year alone.

I knew that a major step towards well and truly getting that diagnosis was to convince my parents that I actually had it. To me, it had felt like another battle I’d had to armour up for, especially with all the stigma and taboo around mental health in Asian culture. The first person I had gone to was my older brother. Despite our differences and rocky relationship at the time, having him back me up would give my parents proof that I wasn’t just thinking too much and trying to come up with an excuse for my poor grades. However, convincing him was an even harder task than I initially thought it would be. He was thoroughly convinced that my experiences were just universal, especially since he had felt the same way and had also gone through similar things in the past.

But now, when we look back at that very same conversation, we just laugh. He had spent so many days discrediting my experiences and convincing me that I was just overthinking, but when I received my diagnosis for ADHD, so did he! At the time, I’d felt rotten and broken, but I never stopped countering his claims, which eventually made him cave in and end up doing his own research. I will never forget the day he knocked on my door at two A.M. to apologise and tell me he finally understood what ADHD was about. He took a seat right next to where I was laying on my bed and told me he was wondering if he had it too.

After we got our diagnoses, he apologised to me again, but I realised at that moment that I had never resented him for never believing in me.

Because how could you possibly understand that your experiences are actually abnormal when it's been all you’ve ever known as normal for over twenty years of your life?

Unfortunately, before I even had the chance to formally talk about getting a diagnosis with my parents, the day we were destined to receive our SPM results had arrived. Factually speaking, a little slip of paper like that should have only weighed about the same as a pigeon’s feather, but when I turned over that fragile little slip within my hands, the rows of Cs, Ds and Fs that had greeted me made me feel like a pound of bricks had been shoved into my bag after a judge had handed me my death sentence. I spent the drive home crying and scratching against my arm so hard that I drew blood. I couldn't understand how all the effort I put into trying to study had amounted to nothing in the end.

At home, I locked myself in my bathroom and I debated finally ending it all, the way I should have all those years ago. I held a metal knife over the pulse point of my wrist. The cool metal had felt like ice upon my heated skin as I pressed it against my arm. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to draw blood.

I spent the rest of the day sitting in the darkness of that bathroom, cycling between crying so hard that I couldn’t breathe, and crying so hard that my throat burned from the bile that kept rising into my mouth from all the pressure my sobbing had put on my stomach.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would've saved everyone a whole lot of pain and heartbreak if I just wasn't too much of a coward to slice through the skin of my arm.

But I'm glad I didn't.

I realise now that was when I had reached the lowest point in my life, but even if I went out, I wanted to go out putting a name on the thing that had been haunting me for years. I emerged from the bathroom with tears smeared across my face and I steeled myself to tell my parents about how I felt. Unsurprisingly, they had reacted the exact same way my brother had, though having him there to support me had lessened the bubble of fear in my throat that threatened to strangle me and keep render me mute. It wasn’t an easy task, at all. In fact, it took months and months of stressful conversations and a whole lot of tears until they finally decided to take our word for how we were feeling.

The entire process of getting that diagnosis is a blur to me now. All those clinical trials and psychiatric evaluations were things my brain probably blocked out from the stress, but the funniest revelation of all was the realisation that our father had ADHD too. The knowledge that my brother and I had both ‘lucked out’ on the genetic lottery was surprisingly hilarious at the moment, but it finally helped us understand why he’d never been the type to sit still.

I understand now that I cannot hold myself to the exact same standards that neurotypicals do, and that working like them would render my already struggling neurons worthless in the long run with the crushing weight of the burnout I would have to endure. The best thing for me is to do things differently, and while the fear of the unknown can be terrifying, not all things that are different are scary or bad, they're just that.

Different.

I’d say I've become pretty good at improvisation, and I've grown aware enough to recognise the beginnings of my self-destructive tendencies and behaviours when they inevitably show up again. I’ve definitely also discovered the importance of not being too harsh on myself, and not beating myself up too much at the realisation of taking things too far. The best thing that I can do for myself is to greet my problems kindly before re-evaluating my next step.

Sometimes, I still struggle with getting a head start on my work. Some days, executive dysfunction ties itself onto all of my limbs like a feral koala before throwing me face first off of a cliff. I set so many alarms now; reminders for when to eat, and when to take breaks to avoid the risk of burning out.

It's not perfect, but it's a start, and sometimes that's all that matters.

I still forget to eat quite often, and I can get so engrossed in completing an assignment that not a single thought of food or water will even cross my mind. While I always finish up all my work on time, it is almost always at the cost of being completely burnt out at the end of it. But through all the trial and error I’ve endured in the past few years, I grew to learn what to do.

Every so often, I just need a little break, some time for myself. Maybe just a day full of indulging in some of the video games or shows that I'm currently fixating on with alarms set to remind me when to eat.

I won’t say I’m doing amazing these days, but I’m doing so much better than I ever have before. Despite how taxing university is in general, and the fact that this semester has not been kind to me, I’ve learned my boundaries, and I’ve discovered what works for me and what doesn't.

I realise just how happy I am with where I’m at right now. If I could travel back in time, I would shake my younger self and tell her that all she has to do is to hang in there, that there’s more to life than what’s in the moment.

That things will always get better, but you just have to try.

That incredibly social, happy-go lucky child might be gone, but they’re not dead. They’re still me, and I am the same as I have always been, just with different experiences. We can honour the memories of our past while still accepting the circumstances that have shaped us into who we are today.

The journey took a little longer than I expected, and I took a couple detours here and there, but with all the love and support from my friends and family, I’m happy with where that road has led me.

Some days, the voices in my head grow louder, their words vicious and cruel, and the accompanying numbness feels like an angry swarm of ants are crawling beneath my skin. Yet, they no longer threaten to swallow me whole.

ADHD might not have given me superpowers, but I’d say it’s made me a little more creative in the face of adversity. No matter the circumstance, we all have the potential to overcome all those pesky challenges we face, and channel it towards something beautiful.

All I hope is that one day, in the future, I can look back at where I’d started and be content with how far I've come.

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luobingmeis · 2 years

Text

things do not feel Good right now <3

#i’m abt to go on a very long laundry list of reasons why i’m throwing myself a pity party #which i beg all of u to. ignore.#bc ik w/ posting on social media there is an air of. wanting to be seen.#which i will not deny! but it is much easier to yell into a void of profile pics then. be by myself or (god forbid) actually talk to someone #but like! here are all my fantasy escapist media so i can ignore how i am trying to avoid reality at all costs <3 #alcohol continues to be the devil. i am so tired.#and does an adult in ur life ever say something so off-putting that u don’t even know how to interpret it #like wtf does ‘this house will all be yours anyway just make sure u take care of my pets :)’#like. i’m 90% sure that means my house will be left to me but. it was just. weird.#which tying into some other things my m*ther said tn im just like. what the fuck is happening #anyways i feel so guilty having m*mmy issues bc i don’t trust my own perspective of things #so what if im just ungrateful and a bitch? <3 #also sometimes i feel too anxious to leave the house #and i am either too anxious or too low on energy to talk/talk consistently with most people i know #so that’s all fun #and i want out of here but idek if/when that will ever happen #and i am so very tired! and so very anxious! and i would like to be able to just talk abt that #and hope get the point across how it’s ruining my mental health without having to say it #and not have to hear advice that just evades the point that. when i am without any distractions i am deeply unhappy <3 #i am at all times stuck in august/september and i feel like i will not let myself leave #and when it turns out that this is all pmsing and hormones i will simultaneously become worse and pretend this never happened <3 #anyways. ‘im scared and i do not want to be like this’ lines that will haunt me forever #anyways. sudden downspirals that make u want to be medicated but also just sleep for a while.#i have had an uptick of sudden downspirals lately and it’s all bc i no longer have the motivation of. self-care/self-preservation.#and in the morning. i will either wake up more anxious or wake up embarrassed.#either way. i always feel like a brat complaining abt my home life or my job or my mental health etc etc etc but. alas.#i just. miss a lot of things rn. and i would like to not be like this.#i rly don’t want advice or. sympathy or anything like that. bc idek what i would say to most stuff #so instead i will bury this post with posts abt my funny little guys <3

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pinksatinsashes · 3 years

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Hi hannah! recently there’s been some controversy of being “that girl” and how it’s glorified on tiktok. I love self improvement tumblr because it’s the best thing that’s happened to me and im sure a lot of us! it’s a sense of community! It’s giving me anxiety that “that girl” is being looked down upon when it’s a motivator factor for me to be my dream girl

Hi angel!

Honestly I don't get the controversy and hatred of the trend if I'm being completely honest. I'm not sure if it's because I've made an effort not to get annoyed or bothered by things that don't matter or what but my ultimate verdict is:

It's really not that deep.

I live a life of not stressing my self out about things that don't matter so when I see others doing it, it's just like? Why?

When I see something dumb I go "well that's dumb" then I scroll along. I don't go on about it and ruin it for other people.

Anyway, you want my opinion so lets get into it.

As I said I get both sides.

The Positive Side

The "That girl" trend has inspired a lot of people to take better care of themselves. Do regular exercise, eat better, take care of their mental health.

And seeing as right now things that are being glorified are:

Getting plastic surgery to fit the beauty standard (which is literally always changing)

Victimising yourself in literally every way possible.

Talking bad about yourself as a form of "humour".

Binge eating unhealthy food for views.

Doing drugs and binge drinking.

Trauma dumping

Sharing literally every detail of your life for full on strangers to see.

Being a bimbo????

The That Girl trend is absolutely not the worst thing to come out of tiktok or social media in general.

Now do I think the 'That girl' trend is the best thing ever? Absolutely not.

The Negative Side

Now I'm not even going to talk about how people think its unrealistic and unattainable because I completely disagree and wholeheartedly believe that people are trying to make excuses.

Because waking up early drinking green juice, working out, journalling and meditating really isn't that hard.

I can genuinely do all of that before 9am if I wanted to. Do I? No, because I don't want to.

I don't like green juice and it's really not that great for you. By juicing the fruit and veg you're removing the majority of the fibre and leaving a bunch of sugar with reduced nutritional value. Now this would be fine if it actually tasted good, but it doesn't to me. I'm not trying to act like I'm better than anyone but if I'm going to drink something with very little nutritional value it better taste good.

I don't like waking up "early" to go work out. I wake up at 7-8am every day and that's good enough for me. I also don't like working out in the morning, it tires me out. I work out at 4pm, get home, cook and eat my dinner then chill for a few hours and go to sleep. I always get the best sleep when I do this and it's what works best for me.

I also don't like meditating or journalling in the morning either, I do both those things right before bed.

This all leads to my biggest problem about this trend.

While scrolling through tiktok the other day (before I deleted it) I saw this girl showing the behind the scenes to her self care account. The things she shows in those videos she didn't actually do. She'd get into her shower, film turning it on and never get in, film the face masks and never put them on and lay out pyjamas that she never wore.

It got me to thinking, how many people on the "That girl" trend are actually doing the things that they show and how many are just holding the pose for a second or two for the video then go pig out on the sofa.

My biggest problem is that people are doing it for the trend, for the aesthetic.

The that girl trend is an issue because of what it is.

The that girl trend is about becoming THAT girl that everyone sees on social media that has their life together, and while that isn't inherently wrong, the problem is that it's not really about being "That girl" it's about LOOKING like that girl.

No one is really doing the exercise to look after their body and become healthier, they're doing it to post it on their stories.

No one is drinking green juice because they like it or because it's good for them, they're drinking it because of the trend.

That's the problem, people aren't actually improving themselves, they're just pretending to.

Because self improvement isn't about waking up early drinking green juice, working out, journalling and meditating.

It's about doing things in that are actually achievable and can be maintained. There is no way that I can maintain waking up at 5am everyday to go to the gym, I tried it and I hated it. Now I wake up when I want to and go to the gym at a time that makes sense for me.

Self improvement isn't about journalling because of a trend, it's about journalling for whichever reason that you want to journal. I journal to organise and make sense of my thoughts which VASTLY helps my mental health. Others my journal just so they can look back on their previous days.

Self improvement isn't about eating healthy because of a trend, it's about eating healthy because listen, you only have this one life and this body and if you're going to be here living you better make the most of it and look after yourself.

When you do things because it's trendy, you miss the point a lot of the time. For example, half the 'healthy' meals I see aren't even that healthy. And also what's healthy for me may not be healthy for you.

Self improvement is about improving yourself, not about trying to come across a certain way for social media.

That girl isn't being looked down upon, "That girl" is inspiring but guess what, she does what she does because she wants to and it makes sense for her. not for social media.

Lastly, my love to answer the rest of your question.

"That Girl" Tikok vs Self Improvement Tumblr

I honestly don't think they're the same at all, though they can be if you only follow the aesthetic accounts on Tumblr.

I find that self improvement Tumblr teaches you ways to improve your life. Teaches you how to set boundaries and how to make yourself feel and look better. I've seen so many posts speaking out about being yourself and not following trends.

Self improvement Tumblr is about ACTUAL change. It teaches you how and TikTok just shows you the aesthetic and not so much the hard work that it takes to get there.

TikTok doesn't explain why you drink green juice, just that ooh it looks so pretty with this filter on it.

I've never seen a blog tell you to do something without telling you why, this way you can make an informed decision instead of just taking peoples word for it.

I hope this makes you feel better as I understand where you're coming from. Theres nothing wrong with being inspired by the trend or motivated by it. That's the whole point of it. But it's just not helpful when you're making moves to improve yourself because it doesn't tell you how to do it, it just shows you the final product.

Doing all the things that girl does won't make you that girl. Nor should you want to be. You should be the best version of yourself, not someone else.

And also, don't let other peoples thoughts on a trend take the fun out of it for you, you are more than capable of forming your own thoughts and opinions and you should.

Anxiety is hard I know. But there's such a beautiful freedom that comes from not caring about others opinions on you and doing what works best for you.

MUAH xx

#hannahlovesyou #hannahanswersquestions #self improvement #that girl #tiktok #trends #instagram #level up #level up journey #level up mindset

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Twenty

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: sorry for the wait yall this month really kicked my ass,, but also we reached part 20!!

tw infertility discussion

***

Gwyn: isn’t he beautiful <3

In the freezing February air outside the tea house, Nesta clicks on the picture attached to Gwyn’s text. It’s a distant shot of a man in his mid-thirties hunched over a library desk while working, unaware that there’s a camera on him. She’ll give it to Gwyn, though—he is a little handsome.

Emerie: the stalker levels are through the roof, gwyneth. seek help.

Gwyn: no i’m gonna marry him

Nesta doesn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned, but she types out a brief response before her thumbs fall off from the cold: Will give my opinion on him later. Got to go.

Gwyn’s crush will have to wait, Nesta thinks as she finally puts her phone away and pushes her way inside the exquisite tea house. Immediately, blasting heat thaws her frozen fingers and toes, and farther inside she spots the table she reserved for three. Right now, only one person sits at it.

Nesta grits her teeth and approaches the round table, heels clicking softly on the parquet floors. Elain doesn’t look up from the menu she’s reading. “This place would be nicer to visit in the spring,” is her only acknowledgment of Nesta.

“I like the winter,” Nesta answers simply, taking her seat across from Elain. She likes how the ice creeps over the garden outside until everything looks frozen in time, and she likes how the colorful flowers and trees become dulled by white snow. Not that her sister would understand or care.

“Of course you do,” Elain mutters, setting down the menu with all the careful elegance of a debutante. “I’m only here for Feyre, anyway.”

It almost saddens Nesta that she doesn’t feel hurt or offense at the words. She thought she would care more about Elain’s opinion than she actually does. “Where is Feyre, then?” she says, looking pointedly at the empty seat between them. “I thought she was coming with you.”

“I’m right here,” a breathless voice says, accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps. Feyre appears, looking flushed from exertion and the cold. She sets her bag down and joins them at the table, scooting her seat all the way in. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Nesta bites. “I was just about to order.”

“So was I.” Elain smiles breezily.

Feyre glances between the two of them, clear concern on her face, but she covers it up and says, “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

It was Feyre’s idea, of course. After Nesta told her off for never being interested in what she wanted to do, Feyre actually listened. She asked if Nesta wanted to hang out, and then let Nesta fill in the rest of the details on her own terms.

Which brings them to the tea house. Unfortunately for her sisters, however, Nesta doesn’t really know where to go from ordering tea and biscuits.

“How is school going?” Feyre asks her after their drinks arrive.

Nesta sips from her tea, already bored. “It’s been fifteen minutes and you have yet to say anything of substance, Feyre. It makes me miss being alone with Elain and her mood.”

Feyre looks taken aback, and Elain levels a glare at Nesta. An unsurprised, of course you have to ruin everything like this glare.

So Nesta clarifies, “That wasn’t an attack. I just hoped that after driving out here, I would get something better than shallow small talk.”

“And how do you know it was shallow?” Elain steps in harshly. “How do you know she isn’t actually interested in how you’re doing at school?”

Nesta slides blunt blue eyes to Feyre. “If that’s the case, then I commend you. Personally, I wouldn’t give a shit if I was in your position.”

To her surprise, Feyre snorts. She looks resigned when she says, “No, you’re right. I don’t care about what’s going on at school, not if you don’t. What would you rather we talk about then, Nesta?”

Without hesitation, Nesta says, “Ask me something you really care to hear the answer to.”

Elain shuts her mouth and sits back at that. Feyre twists her lips, thinking her next words over carefully. “How is your therapy going?” she finally asks in a cautious tone. “What do you talk about there?”

Remembering that she’s in a formal setting, Nesta stops herself from crossing her arms. She settles on wrapping her fingers delicately around her teacup instead. “We talk about whatever I feel like talking about,” she answers honestly. Although lately her conversations with Lana feel more restrained than usual.

“And what’s that?” Feyre urges.

Nesta shrugs, fitting apathy onto her face like an old mask. “Recently? Childbearing.” But it isn’t her favorite topic of discussion, not at all.

“You’re pregnant?” Elain jumps in, leading Nesta to throw her an unamused look.

“No, idiot,” she says. “My therapist just has the idea that if I end up being infertile it’ll screw me up, mentally and emotionally and whatever. She thinks I should deal with that baggage now instead of saving it for later.” She rolls her eyes thinking about it. How many times does she have to repeat that she doesn’t care about her body’s reproductive abilities until Lana gets it?

Feyre chuckles, confused. “Why would you be infertile?”

Nesta forgot—she didn’t want her sisters knowing anything that has to do with her health. She even made Cassian keep her doctor visits secret from Feyre. But that was months ago, and the sisters are… not exactly in a better place now, but looking for the way there. Nesta thinks she can tell them without any severe regrets. “I have endometriosis.”

When she’s met with silence, she adds, “You know, with the tissue growing on my ovaries and stuff. It might affect all the babies I don’t care to have in the future.”

Elain is the first to speak. ��You always wanted to be a mother.” Her voice is soft, almost mourning. It irritates the hell out of Nesta.

“No, I didn’t,” she snaps back.

“You did,” Elain insists. Feyre still hasn’t said anything. “You took care of our cat, Mittens, until the day she died. You taught Feyre her alphabet. You raised me when Mama and Papa were too busy to do it. You never carried dolls around in strollers or anything, but you loved being a mother.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” Feyre says, blinking. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the endometriosis part?”

Nesta sips from her tea, the bitter taste a welcome distraction from Elain’s words. “What about it?”

“How long have you known?” Feyre demands.

“It isn’t cancer. And I’m getting treated, obviously. I’m fine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Nesta sighs, setting her cup down. “October. Cassian made me go to the doctor because he was worried about my periods, we had a big fight about health insurance, and now I use my salary from your boyfriend to afford medication so I don’t feel like dying every month. Is that everything you wanted to hear?”

Feyre only stares at her, for once revealing no emotion. “I keep forgetting,” she says finally, “that we’re not at a place to share things like that with each other. I keep being surprised every time I realize how much of your life you keep from us.”

“I don’t,” Elain huffs under her breath while she tears a croissant in half.

Nesta is still watching Feyre. “You remember how bad my cycles were? I would cry loud enough at night to wake the house.”

Feyre flinches at the memory, and Elain goes still.

“But no one ever woke up,” Nesta says. They never talked about it before, and she has no desire to keep speaking about it now. If they start to tally all the hurts they’ve dealt to each other, Nesta fears they’ll be here for hours. Worse, she fears she will lose.

She reaches for a lavender macaron and delicately pulls it apart, studying the cream filling inside. “Did you know they make these using the lavender flowers from the garden outside?”

“I hate lavender,” Elain says.

Spying her chance to shift the subject off herself, Nesta goes for it. “Because Azriel smells like lavender?” She pushes one half of the dainty cookie past her lips, chewing. “It’s an interesting cologne choice, I agree.”

“Wait, what are we talking about now?” Feyre looks around, unaware that they’ve moved onto another topic.

Elain’s innocent brown eyes turn into daggers pointed at Nesta, betrayal written across her face. Nesta feels no pity for her—especially not if they’re going to sit around judging each other for keeping secrets.

Feyre’s eyes widen and she turns to Elain. “Is it about your,” she lowers her voice and whispers, “crush?”

Nesta raises a skeptical brow. She doubts whatever Az and Elain have stops at just a crush.

“No, it’s not,” Elain answers determinedly. “God, do you have to bring men into everything, Nesta?”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Quit it,” Feyre snaps at the both of them. “Or I’ll grab my things and leave.”

Do it, Nesta almost dares. But she has a feeling that Feyre means it, that she won’t submit to being taunted, so Nesta reins the words back from the tip of her tongue. After all, this tea is expensive.

The sisters take a moment to settle, and Feyre is the one to restart the conversation. “Either way,” she tells Nesta, “it looks like counseling is going really well for you. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, it really gives your skin a certain glow,” Elain drawls.

Nesta doesn’t rise to meet her sarcasm. In all seriousness, Elain and Feyre could probably use a therapist themselves. It might make Nesta’s interactions with them less headache-inducing.

“You should visit one day,” she throws the suggestion out without thinking.

“What, like a therapy session?” Feyre says.

Realizing the implications of her terrible idea, Nesta forces herself not to backpedal. “Yes,” she makes herself grit out. “If you’re interested, that is.”

Elain and Feyre share a glance of hesitation and concern. It’s a glance that grates on Nesta’s nerves, but she keeps her mouth shut and waits for a response.

Feyre answers first: “We’ll do it.”

Elain looks more doubtful, but seems to realize that refusing to go would paint her in a negative light. We can’t have that, can we? Nesta thinks wryly. She reaches for some macarons and starts stuffing them into her purse. “Sounds good. Great.” It is not at all great. Having her sisters in the same room as her and Lana might just be terrible enough to ruin Nesta’s next month or two.

“I’ll text you the details whenever I feel like it,” she tells Feyre and Elain as she rises out of her seat. Likely not for as long as possible.

“Where are you going?” Elain demands.

“I’m leaving.” Nesta pointedly drapes her coat over her shoulders, picking up her purse. “I have plans for the rest of the day, sorry.” Plans to get home and rate Gwyn’s work crush on a scale of one to ten. Maybe she’ll rewatch a sitcom if she has time.

“But it’s only been an hour,” Feyre protests.

Did Feyre think they would be spending the whole day together? Nesta wants to shudder at the mere idea of it, but she somehow… feels bad for her sister. “Maybe another time,” she promises vaguely. To provide some sort of reassurance, she adds, “I had fun today. Thanks for pulling this together.” The words are hollow, fake, and she’s probably a hypocrite for not being able to return the same sincerity she demanded from Feyre. But honesty isn’t going to get Nesta very far today, so this false politeness is the best she can manage.

Elain looks somewhat relieved, and Feyre looks disappointed but unsurprised. “Alright.” The girls nod at her. “Get home safe.”

She turns and leaves as soon as she’s given the green light.

A stale scent greets Nesta when she enters her apartment, reminding her that she hasn’t been around in days. In her defense, the winter months are easier to bear in Cassian’s heated cabin than in a poorly insulated basement.

Flicking the lights on, Nesta books it to the thermostat, her teeth nearly chattering out of her body. After turning the heat as high as it can go, she climbs beneath the covers of her bed without bothering to take her coat off. She doesn’t take out her phone to text the groupchat like she promised she would. She doesn’t even get her laptop to turn Netflix on. Rather, her focus is caught on the framed picture of her and Cassian sitting atop the dresser.

Everything was okay as she stepped out of the tea house. It wasn’t until she was inside her car that it came upon her: the whirlwind of emotions that had stayed so carefully hidden while she chatted with her sisters. All throughout the drive home, her mind kept returning to that one topic. Children.

Elain said that Nesta used to genuinely enjoy playing substitute mother when they were children, and she was right. But that was all fun and games, like playing teacher. What Elain left out was what happened after their actual mother died and their father went into debt, leaving all three girls in need of a parent figure. Nesta wasn’t a mother then—or at least, not a good one.

Now, she stares at the picture full of smiley cheeks and windblown hair, remembering the night that she realized she wanted to hold Cassian’s hand in hers.

She can’t imagine Cassian not wanting kids. They’ve never discussed it, but it’s so obvious to anyone who’s ever met him: he has too much love to give away to not one day end up with a whole brood of children. The thought makes Nesta’s stomach churn.

***

“Thanks again, guys.” Cassian shakes hands with his team as they file out of the conference room, all of them dressed professionally while he lingers in his hoodie. As soon as the last worker is out the door, he pulls out his phone, ready to shoot Nesta a message. She met up with her sisters alone today for the first time in a year, and he can’t wait any longer to find out if their brunch ended in a fight or not.

He clicks on his phone to find two texts from his brother, sent not too long ago.

Rhys: You’re in the office today for the monthly check-in, right?

Rhys: Don’t leave after the meeting is over. I’ll be there in an hour to introduce you to the new guy heading the Milan project.

Cassian frowns, confused. Rhys and the new guy are coming all the way up here to meet him? He didn’t know he was that important to the project.

While he waits for his unexpected guests, Cassian texts Nesta twice, and only receives a single short response saying she got home safe. Resolving to call and have a real conversation with her later, he gets up to change into the spare buttondown and pressed slacks he keeps in a locker in his office. If Rhys wants him to play the part of company boss, then he might as well look the part.

He’s adjusting the cuffs of his dark-colored shirt when the door to his office opens without warning, and Rhysand strides in followed by a stiff-looking young man.

Cassian eyes the stranger up and down first, trying to get a read on him the way he’s seen Nesta and Rhys read others. He doesn’t come up with a single thing, as usual, but he hopes he achieved his goal of looking intimidating.

“Cass,” Rhys greets him with a subdued nod, in full CEO mode. “This is our new hire, Keith O’Connell. I snagged him from right under Vanserra & Co.’s noses.” His near-violet eyes gleam with pride. “He’s going to be working out of Milan for us starting this summer.”

“Sounds good to me.” Cassian smiles lazily, and this is something he doesn’t need to fake—confidence. He reaches out to shake Keith’s hand. “Hi. I’m Cassian Madani.”

“Good to meet you.” The other man shakes back, but his grip is too tight, like he’s trying to break Cassian’s hand. Try-hard, a voice that sounds like Nesta tells him. Uses arrogance to cover up his insecurity.

Cassian takes it all into account as he pulls his hand away, seeing Keith through clearer eyes. His dark brown hair is slicked back with copious amounts of hair product, and a shrewd black gaze takes in every detail of the office. He stands like he’s attempting to seem taller than he actually is.

A typical white-collar worker looking for a way up the corporate ladder, Cassian concludes. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but there must be a reason Rhys is so excited about him.

“Keith is starting here at your branch next week,” Rhys is saying when Cassian refocuses.

He blinks, unsure if he heard correctly. “What, all the way out here?” Away from Velaris in this modest mountain town?

“We agreed it was best if you two work together as closely as possible while preparing for the summer launch. Since you can’t come to Velaris, that means Keith comes here.”

Cassian looks at Rhys in astonishment. He thought that once he rejected the Milan position, he’d cleaned his hands of the job for good. Clearly he was wrong. “Just how involved am I going to be on this project?”

Rhys grins back at him. “You’ll lead from home base, of course.”

Cassian glares. Rhys responds with a look that says they’ll talk about this later.

Keith seems to find the idea of working alongside another person as distasteful as Cassian finds it unexpected, but he says anyway, “I can’t wait to start working together. I have a lot of ideas for the Italian outpost that I think you’ll appreciate.”

“I’m sure I will,” Cassian hums. “When do you start again?”

“Next Monday.”

“Then we should talk then.” Cassian gestures out the door. Keith looks taken aback, likely having expected more out of this meeting. But Cassian can’t meet with this guy until he gets a hold of what the fuck is going on. After shepherding Keith out of the office and shutting the door after him, he turns to Rhys with a raised brow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rhys warns. “Your role in this project is serious.”

“This project isn’t even part of my job description. What am I supposed to know about international business conductions?”

“You know enough to keep an eye on that O’Connell kid for me.” Rhys leans against Cassian’s desk as if it’s his own and crosses his feet. “He’s an asset to the company, but he also worked for our competitors up to a couple of months ago. I can’t trust him to manage this thing on his own, and I don’t have the time or resources right now to watch over him myself. That’s why the duty falls to you.”

“I manage security,” Cassian states, in case it wasn’t obvious. “What about Az?”

“Az has his own things to handle.” Rhys waves him off. “Just do what I tell you to, will you? Pay attention to O’Connell for the duration of the Italy venture and make sure he doesn’t steer our ship off course. You’ll get paid triple for the extra hours.”

“I don’t need triple,” Cassian grumbles, but Rhys is no longer listening. He’s typing on his phone and already heading for the door.

“Feyre and I are having dinner here before heading back home,” he calls over his shoulder. “See you later; I believe in you!” The door shuts after him, leaving Cassian alone.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies to the empty room.

Cassian leaves not long after Rhysand does, having no excuse to linger. Outside, he’s greeted with a surprise leaning against the hood of his truck.

Nesta pushes off the hood as soon as he catches notice of her. “Long day?” she asks.

He laughs for the first time all afternoon, the sound surprised and genuine. “I was just thinking about you.”

“That’s why I’m here. I heard your thoughts.” There’s a light in her pale eyes that only burns whenever she looks at him. It’s the same light that powers her ability to make jokes and let her guard down around him in a way she can’t with most others, and Cassian is especially grateful for it today.

Nesta reaches out and takes his hand into hers. He watches the way their palms fit together in endless fascination, his brown fingers a stark contrast against her white ones. He squeezes once and looks back up at her. “How did meeting your sisters go? You never told me.”

The light flickers so briefly Cassian wonders if it’s a trick of his eyes. But then Nesta is there again, at full brightness. She squeezes his hand back. “Take me home. I’ll tell you all about it.”

***

a/n: i love writing stuff related to cassian’s job i’ll just be throwing random words in there and calling it business jargon

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

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hualianff · 3 years

Text

Vampire/Human AU

(Slight NSFW, angst)

Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.

Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,

“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”

A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.

The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.

HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.

But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.

“We can work with that.”

XL gulps.

“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”

HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.

“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”

XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.

“Yes.”

HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.

“Wonderful.”

***

XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.

A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.

XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.

XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.

As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.

Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.

The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.

At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.

Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.

One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.

XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.

XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.

XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.

It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.

Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.

While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.

HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.

“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.

“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.

“Maybe three weeks.”

HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.

***

The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.

HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.

Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.

HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.

HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.

“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.

“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”

XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.

“Oh.”

HC inhales sharply.

“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.

So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.

“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“

“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.

XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”

“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.

“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.

“No! No, not at all.”

HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.

XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.

HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.

“I don’t believe you.”

XL’s face crumples.

“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.

XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“

If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.

“You’re not eating right.”

“Wait- S-san Lang-“

The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.

“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.

“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?

“I-I am!”

“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.

Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.

XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?

XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.

“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”

HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.

No, this cannot be happening-

XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.

How did HC let it get so bad?

“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.

HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.

“Xie Lian…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”

For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.

“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hualian #hualian au #cerdrabbles #xie lian #hua cheng #human xie lian #vampire hua cheng #sorry it's rushed

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cyndavilachase · 4 years

Photo

I’m Looking Forward Now 💖Thank you and good bye

So, it’s been a little over a week since Steven Universe Future ended…

I’ve been hesitant to write this, honestly, but I’m tired of holding myself back from properly expressing myself in fear of appearing overly invested in the media I consume, even in private. Writing helps me organize my thoughts and feelings, and I feel like these thoughts in particular may resonate with many, so I want to share them. I want to talk about what Steven Universe has done for me personally, both as an artist, and as a person.

I’ve been around since the day the first episode of the original series aired. I actually remember when Steven Universe was just a logo on Wikipedia’s “List of Upcoming Cartoon Network Shows” list, back when I was a freshman in high school. It piqued my interest, but when commercials finally dropped for it, I thought it was going to be bad because of the way marketing handled introducing Steven as a likeable character. There was still something about it that made me want to give it a chance though, so I went online and watched the pilot before the first episode's release. I was hooked immediately. I knew I was going to love it, and I did. I fell so absolutely in love with Steven as a character, and the world that he and the gems lived in. I became obsessed. I was always so excited for new episodes to come out. Little did I know what else it would do for me as I went through my adolescence alongside it.

As the show progressed, it was evident that what I wanted out of a western animated childrens’ cartoon was finally coming into fruition: this show was becoming serialized. There was continuity, there was plot, there was character development-- it was getting deep. It was pushing the groundwork that Adventure Time laid out even further (thank you, Adventure Time).

I will give credit where credit is due: earlier western childrens’ cartoons I grew up with like Hey Arnold, and Rugrats, among others, also touched on heavy topics, but Steven Universe was able to take similar ideas (and even more complex ones, concerning mental health and relationships) and expand on them outside of contained episodes and/or short arcs. These themes, which were a part of the show’s overarching story, spanned across its entirety. Continuity was rampant.

What did this mean? It meant kids cartoons didn’t have to be silly and fun all the time and characters weren’t just actors playing a part in 11-minute skits. Steven and the gems would remember things that happened to them, and it affected them and how they would function and play a part in their story. This was a huge deal to me as a teenager. I always wanted the cartoons I grew up with featuring kid characters to feel more. In my own work, I often felt discouraged when combining a fun, cutesy western art style with themes as dark or layered as anime would cover. I always thought it had to be one or the other because an audience wouldn’t take a combination of the two seriously enough, based on discussions I had with classmates, friends, and online analysis I read at the time. Steven Universe proved to me otherwise. This show was opening the door for future cartoons exploring in-depth, adult concepts. I felt so seen as a kid, and was inspired to stick with what I love doing.

I was actually very worried about the show’s survival. It was in fact immensely underrated and the fandom was miniscule. Then in 2014, JailBreak dropped, and it’s popularity exploded. Part of it was because of the complex plot and the themes it was covering like I mentioned, but also because of its representation.

I remember when fandom theorized that Garnet was a fusion due to grand, tragic reasons. Turns out, she’s simply a metaphor for a very loving w|w relationship. This was huge. I cannot stress how important it is that we continue to normalize healthy canon queer relationships in childens’ media, and Steven Universe finally was the first to do that proper. Introducing these themes offers the chance for a kid to sit there and ask themselves, “Why is this demonized by so many people?” I asked myself exactly that. Ruby and Sapphire were my cartoon LGBT rep. They were the first LGBT couple I ever ecstatically drew fanart of. I was dealing with a lot of internalized homophobia at the time, and they showed me that I was allowed to love women and feel normal about it. The process of overcoming this was a long one, but they played a part in my very first steps into becoming comfortable with my sexuality. I could go on and on about it’s representation in general-- how it breaks the mold when it comes to showcasing a diverse set of characters in design, in casting, and in breaking gender roles. It’s focus on love and empathy. Steven himself is a big boy, but he's the protagonist, and the show never once makes fun of his weight, or any other bigger characters for that matter. It wasn’t hard to see why the fandom had grown so large.

Fandom was always a joy for me. It was a hobby I picked up when I was in middle school, like many of us here did. I would always cater my experience to fun, and fun only. I only started getting more deeply involved in SU’s fandom when I had just turned into an adult. During the summer of 2016, between my first and second year of college, I drew for the show almost every day non-stop when the Summer of Steven event was going on and posted them online. This was a form of practice for me in order to become not just more comfortable with experimenting with my art, but also to meet new artists, make new friends, and learn to interact with strangers without fear. I dealt with a ton of anxiety when I was in high school. When I was a senior applying to art school for animation, I decided I was going to overcome that anxiety. I made plans to take baby steps to improve myself over the course of my 4 years of college. Joining the fandom, while unforeseen, was definitely a part of that process. I started feeling more confident in sharing my ideas, even if they were fan-made. I fell in love with storyboarding after that summer, when I took my first storyboarding class, and genuinely felt like I was actually getting somewhere with all of this. I remember finally coming to a point in my classes where I could pitch and not feel hopelessly insecure about it. I was opening up more to my friends and peers.

But this process, unfortunately, came to a screeching halt.

My life completely, utterly crumbled under me in the Fall of 2017 due to a series of blows in my personal life that happened in the span of just a couple weeks. My mental health and sense of identity were completely destroyed. All of that confidence I had worked for-- completely ruined. I was alone. I nearly died. My stay at college was extended to 4 and half years, instead of the 4 I had intended. I lost my love for animation-- making it, and watching it. I could no longer watch Steven Universe with the same love I had for it beforehand. It’s a terrible thing, trying to give your attention to something you don’t love anymore, and wanting so desperately to love again. I dropped so many things I loved in my life, including the fandom.

Healing was a long and complicated road. I continued to watch the show all the way up until Change Your Mind aired in the beginning of 2019, and while I still felt empty, that was definitely a turning point for me with it’s encapsulation of self-love. I was hoping James Baxter would get to work on Steven Universe since he guest-animated on Adventure Time, and it was incredible seeing that wish actually come true. The movie came out and while I enjoyed it and thought highly of it, I was still having issues letting myself genuinely love things again, old and new. It was especially difficult because cartoons were my solace as a kid, when things got rough at home. I remember feeling sad because the show ended, and not getting the chance to love it again like I used to while it was still going.

By the time Steven Universe Future was announced, I was finally coming around. I was genuinely starting to feel excitement for art and animation again. I wasn’t expecting there to be a whole new epilogue series, but happily ever after, there we were! Prickly Pear aired, and the implications it left in terms of where the story was going did it. I was finally ready to let myself take the dive back into fandom in January of this year. My art blew up, something I wasn’t expecting considering my 2-year hiatus. Following this, I was invited into a discord server containing some of the biggest writers, artists, editors, and analysts in the fandom. I had no idea there were so many talented people in the fandom, some already with degrees, some getting their degrees-- creating stuff for it on the side just for fun. The amount of passion and productivity level here is insane, and so is the amount of discussion that has come out of it.

I didn’t realize it at first, but it was actually helping me gain back the courage to share ideas. I lost my confidence in pitching while I was taking the time to heal, and graduating meant there would no longer be a classroom setting I could practice in. This group helped immensely.

I have made so many friends through this wonderful series, and I have so many fond memories talking to like-minded creatives, getting feedback and a myriad of sources for inspiration, as well as all of the memes and jokes and weekly theorizations that came about as we all waited on the edges of our seats for episodes to air. I needed this so badly, I needed to get back in touch with my roots, when I would go absolutely hog-wild over a cartoon I loved with people who loved it as much I did. Future has been a blessing for me in this way. I graduated feeling like I was back at square-one, but now I feel like I’m on my way again.

It’s 2020 and while I’m doing great right now, I am honestly still recovering from the total exhaustion that followed after graduating a few months ago, and finally leaving the campus where my life fell apart behind. Needless to say, watching Future was like looking into a mirror. Watching one of my favorite characters of all time-- one that grew up with me-- go through so many of the same things I went through not too long ago was absolutely insane to watch unfold. It’s such an important thing too, to show a character go through the process of breaking down over trauma and all the nasty things that come with it, and to have them go on the road to healing. Steven got that therapy. He wasn’t blamed. The gems were called out. The finale was everything I could have ever hoped for. The catharsis I experienced watching it was out of this world.

As I continue my own healing journey, I will always look up to the storyboard artists, revisionists, and designers that I have been following over these past 7 years, as well as the new ones introduced in Future. It's been such a joy watching these artists release their promo art for episodes, talk about their experiences working on the show, and post the work they've done for it alongside episodes airing.

Thank you Rebecca Sugar, the Crewniverse, and the fans, for making this such a truly wonderful and unique experience. Thank you for reminding me that I am, and always will be, an artist, a cartoonist, and a fan. Thank you, my followers, for the overwhelmingly positive response to my artwork. I have had so much fun interacting and discussing the show with you all again over these past few months. Steven Universe and it’s fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and it will always be a classic that I will return to for comfort and inspiration for decades to come. I am sad that the cartoon renaissance is over, but so many doors have been opened thanks to this show. I am so, so excited to see what this show will inspire in the future, and I hope one day I get the opportunity to be a part of that.

Goodbye Steven, thank you for everything. I wish you healing, and I wish Rebecca and the team a well-deserved rest. ♥️

-Cynthia D.

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14

Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse

You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.

It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.

You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.

"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"

"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."

You leaned against the door. "Oh?"

"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.

"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."

"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.

"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."

"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."

You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.

"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"

Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."

"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."

"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."

You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."

"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.

"Hm?"

You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Max returned the smile. "Of course not."

You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.

"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.

"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.

Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.

"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."

"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.

"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.

"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.

"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."

Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."

"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."

"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.

"Hannibal-"

"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."

"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.

Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."

"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."

You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time.

“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember.

“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.”

You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.”

“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].”

You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found.

“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.”

Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.”

“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.”

“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story.

“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.”

"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."

You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"

"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."

"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."

"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.

"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."

"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.

"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."

Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."

You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.

"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."

"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."

"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."

"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"

"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."

"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."

"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."

You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.

"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.

"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."

"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."

"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.

"I know." You conceded.

He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.

"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."

You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #cult girl #more cult girl #cult girl doctorate #cult girl 2 #tw death #tw family #pregnant reader #hannibal x pregnant reader

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twst-bs · 3 years

Text

TWST Dorm Leaders and an Anxious MC

This is the first piece of written specifically for this blog!

-----

Riddle: Had they broken a rule?

Even if Riddle had improved by leaps and bounds in the anger management department, he still held his rules in high regard. And the way his brows furrowed when he looked at them from across the table, was he angry about something? He couldn’t exactly punish them - they had no magic to lock away, and they were a dorm leader in their own right, so he didn’t have any right to discipline them, but what if they had done something on a personal level? Offended him in some way? They had barely mastered social cues in their own world, what if they messed up in Twisted Wonderland? What if -

...Riddle had said something, and was clearly waiting for a reply. In their internal panic, they had missed whatever it was.

“I-I’m sorry, Riddle, I was kind of zoning out. What did you say?” Were there rules against zoning out? Probably, that seemed like something that would annoy him.

“I asked if you were alright.”

“...Huh?”

Riddle set down his tea cup - it was a pretty, delicate little thing, gilded gold along the edges and handle, with roses painted beneath the rim. His mother would be mortified if she knew he was drinking strawberry milk tea with an ungodly amount of sugar out of it, Riddle had once said with a small, almost sheepish smile. That same mouth was now downturned as he regarded them with concern in his wide gray eyes.

“You seemed to be under a lot of stress lately,” he spoke slowly, like they were a frightened animal. Maybe they were. “Is everything alright? Are you sleeping well?”

They weren’t, but that was more of a side effect of their stress than the cause of it. They idly tapped their fingers against their own tea cup, a matching one to Riddle’s. They had been drinking lavender tea in an effort to calm their nerves, but it clearly hadn’t worked.

“I’m fine, promise,” they grinned, hoping it looked convincing.

By the way Riddle’s face scrunched up, it did not.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I know I’m not the best at handling emotions, but if I can help in any way…” Riddle trailed off, looking embarrassed.

They felt their stomach twist in horror. These little tea parties were the highlight of their week, a little moment of reprieve for the both of them to just relax and enjoy each other’s company. And they had gone and ruined it because they couldn’t figure out how to human properly.

“I’m sorry!” they burst out. “I’ve been so anxious lately, and I haven’t been able to sleep, and I’m worried about my grades slipping because I don’t know the first thing about magic and -”

They didn’t even notice they were starting to spiral until Riddle had reached across the table and grasped onto their hand. Their chest was heaving with barely-contained sobs, and they weren’t sure if the trembling they felt in their hands was theirs or Riddle’s.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured. “Deep breaths, now.”

He was parroting what Trey would tell him to help him calm down, they knew, but it was good advice. They knew that he had talked Riddle down from many an anxiety attack before, but the fact that Riddle, someone who suffered from severe mental health problems, was the one calming them down made something sour begin climbing up their throat.

“I-I’m making everything worse…” they mumbled, squeezing Riddle’s hand tighter. “I should be able to handle this without freaking out, but…”

Riddle reached out and brushed away a tear they didn’t know had fallen away with the back of his knuckle. “I know better than anyone how it feels to be under pressure.” he sighed. “Please, don’t think you have to deal with all of this stress on your own.”

Leona: “Will you sit still for five minutes?”

They hadn’t thought they had been making that much noise. Certainly not enough to wake Leona up from his nap, that was damn near impossible. So either the floorboards in Ramshackle dorm were worse than they thought, or Leona hadn’t actually been sleeping.

“Sorry,” they mumbled, staring down at the worksheet in front of them. They had been trying to finish this homework for hours, and the incantations were starting to blur together. What language were these even written in? Were they in the demonic section or nature section?

Leona sat up from where he had unceremoniously plopped himself on their bed. “You’re fidgeting like a rabbit, herbivore.”

“So you weren’t sleeping after all.”

“Hard to sleep when I can practically smell your anxiety.”

“Then go sleep somewhere else.”

Leona clicked his tongue, sounding annoyed, but they both knew he secretly enjoyed it when they got snappy with him. Not a whole lot of people had the guts to give him sass, and he liked having someone to verbally spar with. “And miss watching you squirm?”

“I’m not squirming.” they bit back.

“So that chair squeaking was just the ghosts, then?”

“Maybe.”

They could practically hear Leona roll his eyes, but they still didn’t take their eyes off of their textbook.

“Staring a hole into the page isn’t going to solve the equation.”

“How do you know?”

“Shut up and get over here.”

That made them look up. Leona had stood up, motioning them over with a tilt of his head. “You’re taking a break.”

“But -”

“You’re. Taking. A. Break.” he punctuated his words by grabbing the back of their desk chair and pulling. Just enough to jolt them, they could tell by the way the chair stopped that he was purposely holding it steady. Even so, they couldn’t help the small noise of surprise they made.

“Leona, I have to finish this!”

“You’ve been staring at the same page since I got here, you aren’t finishing anything.”

Subconsciously, they knew that taking a break would probably be good for them. But the part of their brain that was panicking about failing was telling them that if they took a break they were essentially giving up. And giving up wasn’t an option.

“Herbivore.”

The soft growl in Leona’s voice snapped them out of their thoughts. Leona had gone back over to the bed, flopped onto his back with his arms splayed out. To anyone else, it looked like he was just lazing about, but they had been with him long enough to realize that this particular position was an invitation.

It was then that they realized just how sore their neck and back were from being hunched over their desk. And how badly their eyes were burning from staring at the miniscule writing in their textbook. And how their legs and arms were one wrong move away from cramping because of how tense they had been.

...Okay, yeah, maybe a cuddle break was in order.

Leona grunted when they plopped on top of him, face buried in the crook on his neck. “Shit, herbivore, that hurt.”

“Suck it up.” they muttered, internally melting a little when he brought his arms up to wrap around them.

“Tch,” again, he sounded annoyed, but they knew better. “Learn to take better care of yourself.”

Azul: There was so much stuff to do.

Even if Crowley made sure they didn’t have to worry about money, a lot of the responsibilities of dorm upkeep still fell on them. They had to buy groceries, clean the whole dorm, make sure the place didn’t fall apart, follow Grimm around and make sure he hadn’t scorched any curtains...and that was all after they had done the assigned homework.

All things considered, they did a pretty good job, but sometimes they laid awake at night thinking of all of the things that needed to be done. Which left them in a less-than-ideal state for class the next day.

Gr-gr-grmmble…

They winced, hoping no one heard that. They had slept soundly through their alarm this morning, to the point where Grimm had to slap them awake, and therefore didn’t have time to snag breakfast. And it was really hard to focus on Trein’s droning lecture when they were both hungry and sleep-deprived.

Ace looked at them out of the corner of his eye with a raised eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t say anything. It might have been because the last time they got busted talking in class the spiel from Trein had been worse than if Riddle had just collared them, but still.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Trein dismissed the class. They still had Alchemy before they could go grab lunch, and even though mixing potentially explosive potions in their current state seemed like a terrible idea, Grimm skipped class enough. They didn’t need to add to his track record. So, feeling distinctly zombie-like, they made their way through the halls towards the alchemy lab.

Maybe they could dash by Sam’s shop really quick and grab a protein bar just to hold them over? No, Trein had yammered on until the last possible second, and they only had a few minutes before their next class started. There was no time. Maybe -

“Oof!”

“Whoa!”

Well, that’s what they got for not watching where they were going. Their books clattered to the ground as they ran headfirst into someone.

“Ah, damn, I’m sorry,” they bent down to pick up their books. Now they really were going to be late.

“Are you alright?” they looked up to see Azul stooping down to help them. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I’m fine!” they grinned sheepishly. “Just wasn’t paying attention, is all.”

Azul frowned, picking up their Alchemy textbook before straightening. “You look exhausted. Another rough night?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Pale blue eyes widened and Azul flushed red. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” he stammered, “I just - I merely - “ he cleared his throat, quickly recomposing his gentlemanly demeanor. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“Relax, Azul,” they laughed, standing up from their crouched position. “I was just teasing you.”

“Must you do that in public?”

“Are you saying you like it when I tease you in private?”

“That is not what I said.”

They laughed again, reaching for their books, but Azul held them out of reach. “Hey, come on,” they pouted. “I’m going to be late.”

“Seriously, are you alright? You look kind of pale.”

They sighed. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, and then overslept this morning, so I haven’t eaten anything. Happy now?”

“Not really, no.” Azul frowned. “Come on, I’ll treat you to lunch at the lounge.”

“But I have class.”

Azul kept walking, and they had no choice but to follow considering he still had most of their books. “I’m sure Crewel will understand if you miss one class. You have an otherwise perfect track record.”

“How do you know that?” they asked. “We don’t have any classes together.”

“I have my ways.” Azul smiled cryptically at them.

“Which one of them was it?”

“Jade.”

“Knew it.”

Kalim: “...and then, there was this one time, the baby elephants broke out of their cages…”

They wanted to pay attention, they really did. Kalim was a great story-teller, even if he was a bit all over the place. And stories from a magical noble family, no matter how mundane to Kalim, were always fascinating. They could sit here and listen for hours.

Well, usually, anyway.

Nothing in particular was wrong, really. They had just woken up feeling off. It could have been anything. They could have had a weird dream, they could have forgotten something minor, the planets could be slightly unaligned, it didn’t matter. It was just an off day, and they were feeling it.

“...hello? You still in there?”

They nearly hit the ceiling when Kalim snapped his fingers in front of their face. Where they had been sitting there being anxious about trying to figure out what was making them anxious, Kalim had crawled across the floor where the two of them had been having lunch in his room. He had wanted to have a picnic on the flying carpet, but Jamil had put his foot down. Literally, he had stood on the carpet so Kalim couldn’t ride it.

“Sorry!” they yelped, almost knocking their tea over as they were forcibly brought back into the present.

“You looked kinda worried there,” Kalim frowned, quite an unusual look for him. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” they looked down at their lap and bit their lip to stifle a gasp. While they had been worrying, they had subconsciously been picking at the skin around their fingernails. There were a couple tiny drops of blood beading up around their nail beds. Maybe Kalim wouldn’t notice?

“Hey, you’re bleeding!”

Damn.

Kalim’s expressive, ruby-red eyes went wide and he lunged forward to grab their hands. “When did that happen? How did that happen? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

“Kalim, I’m fine, there's barely any blood.” they sighed, gently prying their hands away from him. “I do that a lot.”

“You just randomly start bleeding?!”

“No, Kalim,” they laughed softly, shaking their head. “I pick at my nails when I get anxious.”

Kalim pouted, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “You’re anxious? Why are you anxious? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, it isn’t you, I promise!” they idly swiped at their nails. The places they had picked open had already closed. “It’s just...it’s a thing. I just have anxiety in general, is all.”

Frowning, Kalim sat back down in his original spot. “Isn’t there a way to fix that?”

“There’s a few ways, but none of them are quick.” they shrugged. “I was doing better, but suddenly coming here brought back a lot of my old habits.”

“Hm…” Kalim stared at them intently before the apparent storm passed and he brightened up again. “Well, we’ll just have to get you new habits to replace the old ones!”

“I...don’t think that’s quite how that works…”

“Here!” Kalim reached down and took a bangle off of his wrist. It was gold, with an elephant charm hanging off of it. With a big, eye-closing grin, he handed it to them. “When I was little, I used to get scolded for squirming a lot, so my mom told me to play with a small toy instead of running around. I know it’s a bit different, but maybe, instead of picking at your fingers, you can play with the charm instead? Would that help?”

For a moment, they were quiet, just staring at the shiny gold bracelet in their hand. Then, a small smile split across their face. “Yeah, I think it’ll help.”

Vil: “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“Hello to you too, Vil.” they sighed, flopping unceremoniously onto the stone bench beside him. Usually they at least tried to hold themselves to a higher standard when they were with the Vil Schoenheit, but they just didn’t have the energy. “How could you tell I haven’t been sleeping?”

“Unless the undead look is a new fashion trend, but bags under your eyes are very telling.” he reached over to tuck their hair behind their ear, both in an affectionate gesture and to get it out of the way so he could assess them better. “You’re also breaking out. Are you stressed?”

“Isn’t everybody stressed?”

“Don’t get existential, just answer the question.”

They huffed, letting their head rest on the hand that was still at their ear. “Yes, okay, I’m stressed, happy?”

Students were watching the two of them on their way through the gardens, but Vil paid them no mind. He had plenty of practice at ignoring the masses. “We’ve discussed this, haven’t we? Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” they closed their eyes, unable to look at him.

“I didn’t mean that to be scolding,” this time, Vil sighed. “Just a reminder that you need to take care of yourself. Maybe a spa day is in order.”

That did sound nice. “Can we do hair masks?”

“Of course, my dear.”

Idia: “Big Brother, you have a guest!”

Idia fought the urge to groan when Ortho popped his head into the room. Why did people always have to bother him on raid night?

Just as he was about to tell Ortho to send whoever it was away, a second head appeared.

“Hey, Idia.” the Ramshackle prefect sounded drained, enough to make him type a quick “AFK” into the chat and turn to them.

“Everything...alright?”

They stepped fully into the room, returning Ortho’s cheerful wave before closing the door and collapsing face-first onto Idia’s bed. “There’s too many people out there.”

“Mood.”

“And they all want me to do stuff for them.”

“Also mood.”

“So can I hide in here for a little? Please?” they turned their head to look at him with pleading eyes. “I’ll be quiet, I know it’s raid night.”

Idia turned to glance at the screen. The team he had gotten saddled with this time around was garbo - three tanks and no healer, honestly - so he was fairly confident they weren’t finishing the dungeon. Shaking his head, he clicked a few buttons and the screen returned to his desktop.

“Bunch of losers anyway,” he mumbled, getting up from his chair. “Wanna play something else?”

“Can we play Skull Girls?”

A few moments later, they were sitting side-by-side on the bed with the opening for the game playing on one of Idia’s monitors

This was what they needed. No people besides the two of them, no lazy Headmasters asking them to take care of problems way beyond their physical and emotional capacity, no chaotic cats threatening to light everything on fire. Just a nice little break.

Slowly, careful, so as not to startle him, they leaned over until their head was resting on his shoulder. He tensed, but his hair didn’t turn red, so they counted that as progress.

“Thanks, Idia.”

“N-N-No problem.”

Malleus: Okay, so this probably hadn’t been one of their better ideas.

Sleep just wasn’t happening tonight. All of the things they had to worry about kept running through their head, and every time they thought they were about to drop off, something else popped up. Eventually, they had given up and decided to take a walk.

Unfortunately, they had completely forgotten how cold it could get at night. Even with the jacket they had pulled on over their pajamas, they were shivering.

“You’re up late.”

The deep voice startled them, but they managed to compose themselves before turning around. “So are you, Tsunotarou.”

Malleus Draconia smiled softly at the nickname, looking absolutely ethereal with the small green lights flitting around him. “It’s dangerous to be out alone at night, Child of Man.”

“The gargoyles will protect me.” they said cheekily. Malleus chuckled.

“And what of me?” he asked. “Do I not get the honor of protecting you?”

“You can fight the gargoyles for the honor.”

Again, Malleus laughed, before noticing the subtle tremors that wracked the human’s body. “You’re cold.”

“This wasn’t my best-laid plan.” they sighed, tugging their jacket closer to their body. “I always forget how cold it is at night.”

Malleus hummed before opening his arms. “Come here, then. I’ll keep you warm.”

They hesitated for a moment before stepping into his embrace, sighing as his body heat seeped into their being. “Wow, you really are warm.”

“Dragons run hotter than humans,” he explained, tugging their head beneath his chin. “It’s why I have no trouble roaming around at night.”

“Lucky.”

“Well,” he murmured. “I’ll simply have to accompany you on your nighttime adventures to keep you warm.”

#twisted wonderland #disney's twisted wonderland #twst riddle #twst leona #twst azul #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleos

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bubsdolan · 3 years

Note

Can you write a blurb about Kristina and Grays gf not getting along the best at first (maybe they misjudged each other). Then the twins help then get along.

{disclaimer- i adore kristina & am in no way shape or form portraying her like this in real life. this is fiction so pls take it with a pinch of salt!}

kristina had been in the twins life a lot longer than you, granted, but it appeared the minute another female entered the close group dynamin- thats wasn’t on professional basis- it caused a tense atmosphere people refused to acknowledge. one that would come to light further down the line when you hit breaking point.

kristina was always cold with you, giving you blunt answers whenever you tried to make general conversation and get to know her a little better. she would never acknowledge you presence whenever the four of you hung out together, often trying to exclude you from the group and make you feel like you weren’t meant to be there. she always stuck close to ethan’s side and would sent you daggers across the room whenever you spoke.

it got to the point where you gave her the same treatment back. sick and tired of being pushed out and treated poorly, when you couldn’t even pin point what you did to ever make her hate you. yourself and ethan had thankfully grew closer, due to the blossoming relationship of you and his twin brother. one going strong after 3 months together, but you seemed to hit a bump in the road when it came to getting ethan’s girlfriend on your side.

the twins often refused to acknowledge the tension between their girls, not wanting to upset either of you or cause an argument between each other. of course when it came down to it, grayson would always take your side, but when it came to his twin brother, he was caught in the cross roads.

the twins had been feeling stuck and uninspired when it came down to their content on youtube. they rationally called a team meeting with adele, mando and their editors, also making sure you and kristina where there for moral support of your significant other. it seemed whenever you tried to make a suggestion that would better the twins and their mental health, she shut it down. she argued back with every point you made and always made sure she was agasint you, instead of working together for the two boys you both loved dearly.

“ok, what the fuck s’your problem?” you lost it, hitting your hands agasint the table that was keeping a strong distance between you and kristina- one you you were grateful for in your anger filled moment. grayson flinched at your sudden tone, putting a gentle hand on your thigh to try and calm you down, knowing you were about to explode something that had been bubbling for a while.

kristina scoffed, a small smirk on her face at the reaction she finally managed to provoke from you. she hoped now grayson could see the type of girl she thought you were. “you’re my problem, y/n. what exactly are you intentions with grayson, huh?”

her question and hurtful accusation takes you surprisingly off guard. your eyes widen in disbelief as you feel grayson stop his comforting trances on your skin and stare at ethan with a tight lip. not knowing what to say and do in that moment, he was just as stunned as you. was he missing something kristina wasn’t?

“you’re joking me right? who do you think i am!” you push yourself away from the table. hands being thrown in the hair as you pace the room with all eyes watching you intensely.

“a clout chaser? only with grayson for his fame and money? im a girl as well, y/n. i can see straight through your act.” kristina picks at the cracked nail vanish as she smirked. eyes flickering from your worked up figure, to grayson’s slumped over, tense one.

“ok, kristina. that’s enough.” you were thankful for grayson in that moment. you felt your eyes well up with tears as you turn to grayson with a look that broke his heart, before leaving the room without a second glance. not quite believing what came out of kristinas mouth, not only in front of your boyfriend, but his entire team. the people closest and extremely protective of him.

“grayson, im just looking out for you. i’ve seen you get hurt before and i can’t stand to watch it happen again-“ kristina tries to reason with grayson, persuading to make him understand the place of care she’s coming from. she looks over at ethan to back her up but retracts into herself when he says nothing.

ethan knew how fragile his brother was when it came down to his love life, but he could see the way you instantly clicked with grayson. he had a strong twin feeling you were serious about him, he could see in your eyes how much love and admiration you had for his brother. how gental and loving you were with his heart... but he wouldn’t dear say that in fear of upsetting his girl and ruining his own very happy and healthy relationship.

“you know she cries to me every night?” grayson’s sudden voice of reason speaks up and startles kristina from her saddening thoughts. making her look at him and listen to every word that fed into her guilt of witnessing you cry before her very eyes. you wouldn’t get that emotional over her opinion if you didn’t love the heck out of grayson.. right?

“grayson, i-“

“she has a constant fear that im going to break up her. that im not gonna keep her around anymore, all because you, my bestfriend, hates her for whatever reason. she adores you, kris. she constantly gushes about how cute and in love you and e are, how pretty you are, how she so desperately wants to be your friend. not even for my sake, she generally cares for you.”

with that grayson leaves kristina to regret ever doubting you in the first place. rushing out the room to find you and comfort you the way he knew best, holding you in his arms and promising to keep you safe. kristina’s words did not effect him in the slightest, he knew your feelings for him were true. he knew how genuine and real you were. you never once gave him any reason to doubt you, and therefore he was going to do the same, sticking by your side no matter what.

“ethan, im so sorry,” her voice breaks, turning into her boyfriends chest as she broke down. realising she could have ruined not only her friendship with grayson, but the best thing that had ever happened to him- you. she sees that now.

“baby, go talk to her. she’s a sweet girl, fits in perfectly in our little family and grayson loves her. we should too.”

ethan knew exactly the right things to say to get his girlfriend to face you and apologise for her wrongdoings. interrupting your moment with grayson shushing your cries and kissing away your tears as she pulled you into her own arms and begged for your forgiveness. something you were more than willing to give. loving the idea of gaining a new friend- a sister.

“let’s fucking go! the fams back together.” grayson high fives his twin brother who came out at the right time to witness the girls in a soft embrace. both twins going in for a bro hug as they held each other close and watched the start of their girls, their soulmates, become inseparable.

the twins ruin your moment of apologises and your promises to not break grayson’s heart, by jumping into the mix and squeezing together for a much needed group hug. the four musketeers that would stand by each other’s side no matter what. the perfect happy family, with your own happy ending in each other.

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the-cheese-writes · 3 years

Text

Makeover ~ Prinxiety

TW: Deadnaming, transphobia, mentions of dysphoria, one use of bad language

Word count: 3148

A/N:

Virgil is mtf and lesbian and Roman is now a girl called Rowan :3

Hope you enjoy this fluffy fic that was actually inspired by a scene from Burlesque.

~ Bre

----------

“Virgil! Can you help your father with something please?” Cringing at her deadname, Vera closed her notebook and stashed it away before calling back to her mother.

“Coming mum!” When she got downstairs, she saw her dad holding up a shelf on the wall and holding out a screwdriver for her.

“Virgil!” She cringed again. “There you are. Come help me with this,” her father said. Taking the screwdriver, she grabbed a few nails from the box and screwed them into place, twisting firmly until they were secure.

Stepping back, she smiled a little at her dad and handed back the tool. “Thanks son. You seem to know the basics, which is great! Diy skills are a great trait to have in a husband. Whoever your wife will be one day will be happy.”

Though she was crying inside, Vera nodded and plastered the best smile she could for her parents before turning around and quickly heading back up to her room. She was on the brink of tears and as soon as she closed her door, she broke down, feeling an overwhelming wave of discomfort and utter hatred for herself and her body wash over her.

Her parents would never understand. How could they? They were cisgender heterosexuals; they could never fully understand the dysphoria people like her had. How damaging it was, how detrimental it could be to her and her mental health and how pronouns were so much bigger and meaningful than mere words.

Knowing she couldn’t take this alone, Vera texted her best friend, Rowan and asked if she could come over. Within seconds, she got a reply and Rowan, being the gracious princess of a girl she was, said that she could.

Grabbing her hoodie, Vera made her way down and out the door, telling her parents where she was going before she left.

“Mum, Dad, I’m going to Rowan’s,” she said as she grabbed her keys from the shelf.

“Okay sweetie! See you later,” her mum replied. For a moment, Vera thought she had survived and quietly exhaled relievedly. But unfortunately, her satisfaction didn’t last long.

“Bye son!” She heard her father call just before she fully closed the door.

And that tipped the scale.

A waterfall of silent tears plummeted down her face as all her pent up feelings of bitterness and disdain crashed down with them. She sobbed soundlessly through the streets all the way to Rowan’s house, her hood hiding her face and tears from everyone who passed.

Those who gave her a small look, whether it be from sympathy or disgust, didn’t bother talking to her, but that was just as well, because she couldn’t deal with social interaction at that moment. All she cared about was reaching Rowan because, as far as she was concerned, she was the only person who would be able to comfort her and know what to do.

Vera considered knocking at the front door, but then she realised that Rowan’s parents might be home, and she definitely didn’t want them seeing her in her ruined state. So she climbed in through the window, as she usually did, because if you don’t go into your best friend’s home through the window, are you guys even best friends?

Hearing rustling outside, Rowan smirked and turned around on her chair after she heard her window open.

“Really? Coming in through the window? Why did you need to put in all that effort when you could have just simply walked through the door…” Rowan’s voice trailed off once she saw Vera’s tear stained cheeks and messy hair through her purple plaid-pattern patched hood.

“Virgil?” She instantly ran forward and hugged her.

Vera knew she meant well, but Rowan accidentally deadnaming her only brought forward more tears to the table and she broke down in her friend’s arms.

They sank to the floor, Rowan holding her the whole time and when they eventually pulled away from the hug, Rowan took Vera’s hands in her own and lowered her hood.

“Hey, hey,” Rowan said softly, rubbing the back of Vera’s hands with her thumb, then wiping away a few tears from her cheeks. “What’s wrong hun?”

Looking down at their hands, Vera stared at them and blushed a bit at the feeling of Rowan’s gentle, ever-comforting touch on her skin. She gazed up at the gorgeous girl in front of her and shook like a leaf as she considered telling her best friend her biggest secret.

Revealing to Rowan what Vera had been wanting to tell her for so long could potentially put a strain on their friendship and Vera had such a strong bond with Rowan - she didn’t want to lose it. But she figured that one day, Rowan would find out the truth, so why not now, when they were in their teen years and could still live life to the fullest?

“I…” Vera began and Rowan leaned in in anticipation. “I was… deadnamed.” Holding her breath, Vera anxiously glanced up at her friend through her bangs. Rowan’s expression was unreadable at first, but then a confused look was painted across her face.

“Deadnamed… but that’s what happens when-” she mumbled, then cut herself off, realising what Vera had just told her. She stared at her with wide eyes. “Are you saying that… that-”

Vera nodded, bucket loads of tears springing through her eyes. “I’m trans.”

She cried into her palms and braced herself for the worst, knowing what Rowan’s reaction would be.

‘You’re trans? How can you be trans? You were born a boy so you’ll stay a boy.”

“Trans? But you’re 16 you’re just confused. Give it a few more years you’ll grow out of it,”

“Are you sure you aren’t just interested in girl stuff?”

“How can you expect me to just suddenly use these pronouns for you now? Do you know how hard that is?”

She would be just like her parents and then she would lose everyone. Her loved ones, her friends and most likely her home. Frantic thoughts churned around her mind as she quietly cried.

‘I’ll be homeless, unloved, forgotten, discarded, abandoned I’ll never-’

A pair of warm arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her in for a kind embrace, halting her train of worries. Weeping into her friend’s shoulder, Vera allowed Rowan to hold her, stroke her hair and comfort her, washing away all her negative thoughts with a single touch.

“I’m so sorry I deadnamed you. You’re no more different to me than you were before. I still see you and view you exactly the same,” said Rowan in a soft voice, calming Vera’s frenzied nerves. “You’re my best friend and I’d never trade for even the biggest diamond in the world, even though that’s already you.”

Taking Vera’s face in her hands, Rowan wiped away more tears from her cheeks and this time, they finally stopped falling. There was a beat of silence. Vera hung her head and steadied herself and her breathing.

“Do you have a new name?” asked Rowan after she saw Vera compose herself.

“Yeah,” she answered, fidgeting with her hands. “It’s Vera.”

Rowan gasped and smiled, placing a hand to her chest. “Girl, that’s a gorgeous choice.”

Hearing Rowan nickname her ‘Girl’ sparked a new and welcome feeling in Vera. It felt freeing, ecstatic, joyous and her whole soul was more jubilant than it ever had been before.

It’s funny how much one small word can affect a person.

“Thanks,” she beamed. “I wanted to choose something unique and interesting. ‘Vera’ just stood out to me.”

“And it fits you like a glove,” Rowan added almost instantly, without any hesitation. Blushing, Vera looked down and hid her face.

“You can still call me Vee though. I always liked that nickname,” she said, laughing softly.

“Whatever you want, Vera,” said Rowan, smiling and Vera delightfully grinned back. Suddenly, Rowan’s face fell and raised a hand to her cheek. “Oh no. Your concealer and eye shadow’s wiping away…”

“It’s nothing, just makeup I’ll live,” Vera chuckled softly, holding Rowan’s hand on her face.

“Nothing? Nothing?? Makeup is more than just nothing. It makes us feel dazzling, beautiful, stunning and just downright gorgeous.” Raising her hands and moving them flamboyantly, Rowan stood up and walked to her drawers and opened the top one. She seemed to be searching for something, Vera noticed, hearing the rustles and movement.

“Hmm,” Rowan hummed quietly. Vera tilted her head, intrigued.

“What’s up?”

“I’m running low on eyeshadow and other makeup supplies.”

“Wait, didn’t you just buy some new ones 2 months ago?” asked Vera. Rowan just went silent.

“Your point being?” she eventually replied, turning around with her hands on her hips and Vera giggled. Smiling at her laugh, Rowan then grabbed a bag from her chair - that was unsurprisingly already packed - and took her best friend’s hand.

“Where are we going?”

“Out. I’m giving you a makeover,” Rowan said with a smirk, before pulling Vera out the door with her.

After she grabbed her keys and said goodbye to her parents, the two girls walked to the town centre, discussing Vera’s sense of style along the way. Rowan seemed to understand her preferences and when they arrived at the mall, she got to work straight away buying all the clothes that would look great on her.

“Vee look at this!” Holding up a black skirt, Rowan showed it to her friend, who beamed at the sight of it.

“Ro I love it!” She then lowered it to her waist to measure.

“It seems like it’s your size. Wanna try it on?” All of a sudden, Vera’s anxiety spiked. It was then that she remembered that, though she was a girl, she still looked like a boy to those around her.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean…” she gestured to herself and Rowan’s eyes softened in sympathy. Gently, she held Vera’s shoulders.

“I understand Vee. I’m not gonna ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with yet. We can just try it on back at my place,” she reassured comfortingly in a soft voice, melting Vera’s heart and walls. She blushed and smiled back, then Rowan held up the skirt. “So we’re getting it?” she asked eagerly and Vera nodded.

After around an hour and a half later of shopping, Vera looked down at the three bags they had. They didn’t buy a lot, since she had found a way to reuse most of her old clothes, but purchased a decent amount of new, more feminine clothes. To finish their shopping spree, they were lastly going to buy some makeup for them both.

But Vera felt a little guilty seeing that Rowan had spent all her savings on her. She knew that Rowan wouldn’t want her too, but she couldn’t help it.

“Hey Ro?” Vera said. Rowan hummed in response and turned her head. “I appreciate all of this, I do. But you really didn’t need to bother yourself so much with me-”

“Ahem? Back. The hell. Up.” Rowan suddenly stopped in her tracks and raised her free hand, pointing up her index finger. Vera couldn’t stop the smile etching onto her face from her amusing actions as she turned around to her. (She had stopped a couple steps ahead.) Rowan was always an extravagant queen; Vera didn’t know why she didn’t expect this to happen.

“I very much did need to bother myself with you,” Rowan stated, taking a few paces forward towards her. “This shopping session was to help get your mind off all the current shit happening in your life, since it’s not fair that it’s all happening to you. I’m here to help build your confidence, however I can, and obviously clothes play a big role in it.” She held up the bag she was holding and Vera chuckled. However, her face quickly fell.

“But.. your money-”

“Was well spent. Whatever I was saving up for doesn’t matter anymore and in actual fact I can’t remember what it was, nor do I even care now! All I know is that I spent it well and on a beautiful, gorgeous, caring, sweet girl,” said Rowan, emphasising the word ‘girl’ and making Vera beam. She hugged her friend tighter than she ever had before and when she pulled away, a bold thought suddenly crossed her mind as their eyes met, but she hastily swiped it away.

“Come on.” Rowan took her hand and led her to their last store. “Let’s finish our shopping session.”

***

“Are you done yet?” Rowan called from outside her room. Vera was inside, trying on the clothes they had bought and this was her final outfit. She was so excited to see her new friend in all her gorgeous glory and Vera had teased that this was definitely her favourite clothing combination. Rowan waited impatiently for her, tapping her feet and leaning against the door.

“Almost!”

After around 15 more seconds, Vera finally said, “Alright! You can come in now!” and Rowan wasted no time in opening the door. She gasped and froze in shock and awe.

“Vera… you look so marvellous,” she said, barely any louder than a whisper. Vera had managed to steal her breath away, merely by just standing there.

She wore a purple, oversized printed t-shirt accompanied by the black and white grid skirt they saw earlier. A pair of black lace-up boots sat at her feet and black mesh tights covered her legs, and to top it all off, Vera wore a few silver chains around her neck, accentuating her whole look and a couple of silver earrings too.

To put it simply, Rowan was starstruck.

“Thanks,” Vera said shyly, looking down to hide her burning blush. “I wish my hair was a little longer though.” Blowing a few chocolate strands out of her view, Vera reached up a twirled a couple as Rowan took some steps closer.

“I think you’d look exquisite either way and, to be honest, I kinda prefer this look more with a pixie cut. It suits you,” she said with a sweet smile, which Vera returned.

“Thank you Ro.”

Rowan then pulled her over to her bed and sat her down as she searched in their bags for their newest makeup items. She handed Vera a brush and her concealer and foundation, but Vera pushed them back.

“Actually, can you do it this time? It’s not that I’m uncomfortable or anything, but I just wanted you to do it, “ she said innocently, gazing up with wide eyes.

“U-uh. Sure. Okay,” Rowan stuttered. Gingerly, she reached up and brushed Vera’s hair out of her face, their eyes momentarily locking, then gave her a headband to wear. “What do you want?” she asked after Vera had put it on.

“Um, I dunno. Surprise me,” Vera winked and Rowan smirked, then set to work.

The two played Disney songs as Rowan worked and sang to their hearts’ content, but occasionally smudged a few aspects of the look in doing so. Rowan didn’t mind though. As long as they were having fun, she didn’t mind if Vera accidentally messed it up a thousand times. As long as she got to see her smile.

When she was finished, Rowan got a mirror and handed it to Vera. “Take a look.” And she did, gasping quietly as she admired her eyeshadow and most of all, her lips. They were a kind of ombre tone - lined black and gradually fading into a subtle burgundy red.

“Jee-muh-nattie Ro, you really outdid yourself here. Colour me impressed!”

“Thanks Vee,” Rowan grinned. “The lipstick should be dry by now.” She then started tidying her things and packing up her brushes and new palette, storing them back in their drawer. Vera was still admiring her appearance in Rowan’s full-body mirror when she finished cleaning up. Truth be told, Rowan loved how much Vera was loving her looks and who she saw in the mirror. It wasn’t every day that she was so confident, and Rowan was so glad to see a shift in her self-esteem.

“You look absolutely stunning, you know,” she complimented as she sat back down on her bed, making Vera’s face instantly flush.

“Thank you Ro, for everything you’ve done for me today,” Vera said as she joined her.

“Ah, it was nothing,” Rowan waved it away, but Vera shook her head.

“No, seriously. You don’t know how much it’s helped me.” She took her friend’s hands in her own. “I don’t know what I would do without you, I’m not sure what I would have done in that moment if you weren’t there to help me. Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart Ro, for all you’ve done since day one.”

Tilting her head slightly, Rowan smiled kindly at her best friend, feeling her face heart up the longer she stared. “And thank you for being the incredibly charming little cherub you are!” she replied, booping Vera’s nose and causing her to giggle.

Her expression soon turned to concern however, as she remembered that Vera didn’t actually live with her (unfortunately). “Vera, what are you going to do when you get home? Won’t your parents think spitefully when they see you like this?”

Looking down, Vera furrowed her eyebrows worriedly, all the while grasping Rowan’s hands. “I’m not sure. I don’t really know what I’m gonna do, because they obviously are too scared to accept me.” Rowan nodded understandably. “But, right now I just want to focus on now, and being here with you and spending the best minutes of my life with you.”

“As do I,” replied Rowan, raising Vera’s knuckles up to her lips and kissing them softly, flustering her.

Then their eyes locked, again, and they lost themselves in each other’s eyes. Suddenly the world was still and quiet, the wind stopped blowing and the room around them faded away. And before they knew it, they were kissing.

It was sweet and juvenile, like them, and their lips moved perfectly together, fitting flawlessly like pieces in a puzzle. Rowan raised a hand to Vera’s cheek, slowly sliding it down to her neck, whilst Vera grabbed her opposition’s waist, pulling her in closer ever-so-gently.

After a couple minutes they pulled away, muted by shock and the butterflies dancing in their stomachs. Rowan was the one to break the silence, laughing breathlessly and grinning, Vera soon doing the same. She hesitantly looked up, their eyes meeting again and Rowan grazed a tender hand on her cheek, which Vera leaned into.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” she said lovingly, completely entranced. “Be my girlfriend?”

“Of course!” Vera replied excitedly, almost instantly and lunged at Rowan, encasing her in a hug but causing them to tumble off the bed and onto the floor in a laughing heap.

#sanders sides #fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #brewrites #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #hurt/comfort

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mojjisxng · 3 years

Note

Hey can u plz make one jay's oneshot from enhypen in which y/n and jay are top enemies and one day y/n gets drunk in front of him and confess her feelings or maybe in which he is a playboy and y/n is a cold hearted girl??!!

oooo we love a good enemies to lovers moment

thanks for requesting anon ❤️

Two Wrongs Might Make A Right

word count- 1,036

warnings- mentions of alcohol and jay being a big meanie in the beginning

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

y/n pov

“move out of my way dumbass!”

“not until you smile, you literally never smile. no wonder nobody likes you!”

yeeaah this isn’t unusual. it happens everyday between jay and i. i hate the guy because he’s made my life a misery ever since i can remember. i’ll never forget when he threw a toy train at my head in nursery, so hard that my head bled; that was the start of this war.

“good thing i don’t need anybody then,” i reply angrily, “especially not you pestering me EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.”

jay strikes back with “ooooo i’m so scared. NOT.” he then comes right into my face, backing me into the lockers, “i think you’re just using this as a cover to mask the fact that you hate yourself and everybody else for hating you too. you know you’re dumb, ugly and unlikeable, so you shut everyone out. you’re just a jealous little puppy trying to pick fights with people to grasp onto any kind of attention you can get. pathetic really,” he jeers, while all of ‘his’ girls giggle around him. that was the breaking point, he just called me out for what i really am. so i turn around, trying to block out his teasing voice that was still shouting insults at me, and i walk as calmly as i could out of school, the tears threatening to fall. i make sure not to look back at all.

as i turn the corner of the street, i completely break down. my vision is blurred with a torrent of tears that seem to fall endlessly. the self hatred which was always in the corner of my brain, ready and waiting to be triggered, permeates through my whole body.

i need to make it stop.

eventually, i reach a convince store, walk in, find a random bottle of alcohol, shove it into my puffer jacket and saunter out without looking suspicious. i then set off to the park to drink my feelings back down and lock them away. “let’s see what happens today. i might start a fight if i’m lucky,” i chuckle to myself numbly.

jay’s pov

as i’m wandering around the park after school,i come across y/n sitting on a bench, looking an absolute mess. their hair was messy, they had a bottle of liquor in their hands and mascara running down their face because they were-...oh they were sobbing.

“oh wow, so the freak does have feelings huh,” i laughed, “why are you crying anyways?”

when i looked down at them, they were already glaring straight at me.

y/n pov

“i-i’m like this because of you, because you think you can’t t-treat me like shit everyday, and everyone l-loves you for it,” i slur, “EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR YEARS YOU HAVE RUINED MY MENTAL HEALTH, BEATEN ME DOWN SO I’M JUST A DOORMAT TO YOU!” at this point, i am bawling my eyes out, too drunk to care what i look or sound like.

jay replies to me calmly for once, maybe even remorsefully, “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t realise you were so affected. i promise i would never want to hurt you this much. i thought you would just not care like usual, but it’s gone too far now and i am sincerely sorry.”

he’s lying. he has to be lying. why would he be sorry.

“all of this hurts so much because...because i like you! i don’t know why, but i just do. i hate the fact that you hate me and i hate the fact that you have a constant conveyor belt of girls that you just use! even though it’s heartbreaking for me, i always respond to you and argue with you because it’s the only way i can be around you! oh god my life is over now that you know, no one will let me live this down!” whew that felt like a weight off my shoulders, but i’m terrified of how he’s going to use this to bully me even more.

“wait you like me y/n? you actually like me!” he’s smiling like a total idiot, a very handsome idiot and i’m CONFUSED.

“y/n the whole reason i started being mean is because i can’t deal with my feelings for you properly. i wanted to be your friend when we were little but i thought you were too good for me. i don’t know when, but this grew into a crush on you, but i knew you would hate me for being such a dick, so i started to turn to random girls for happiness. but i never felt the same way about them as i do for you, so i just discarded one after the other. i guess we both have pretty unhealthy coping mechanisms ahaha. but anyways, i think you’re beautiful, clever and i know you are more than just your icy persona.”

i’m dumbfounded to say the least. how does he have a crush on me as well, he cannot be telling the truth...but he looks so sincere. my head is already spinning from the alcohol, i don’t need this right now.

jay walks over to me and grabs my hand to pull me closer to him. there are no more words exchanged and he hugs me close to him, my head resting in his chest. it will take some time for me to forgive everything that he has done to me, but i’m just so happy that he sees some good in me. so my dumb, tipsy brain makes me do the only thing it can think of; i smash my lips onto his.

the kiss only lasts a few seconds but it makes me burst with joy.

“thank you for finally being honest with me jay,” i say softly, while grinning like the cheshire cat.

“i should be saying that to you. and again, i’m sorry for everything i’ve put you through,” he reciprocates, “so y/n, will you go out with me tomorrow, on a date?”

“of course, i’d love to.”

“oh and you have a beautiful smile by the way y/n,” jay shouts back as he walks away.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

a/n- this was shit. i’m so sorry you had to go through this mess. i really hope you made it out the other end unscathed by my terrible writing. hope everyone is doing well and staying safe. love youuuuuu - issy ❤️

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

freedom of the press 06 | t. jefferson

title: freedom of the press 06

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

words: 15k

warnings: implied sex, suggestive jokes & teasing, thomas has astoundingly shitty timing, lafayette is a huge fucking cockblock, hella fanservice, v v v tender quality time, and then some more 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 @fanfic-addict-98— hope i didnt miss anyone; lmk if you want to be added!!

By the time Y/N woke up, the sun was hardly up, the streets were plowed, and the bed was warm. She didn't try to leave it, instead curling further into Thomas's warm embrace when he pulled her close. Huddled alongside him, his skin against hers, she didn't bother to fight the fatigue that still ebbed at her mind, instead letting herself drift peacefully in and out of consciousness. She could feel Thomas's quiet laugh rumble in his chest when she made no move to get up. She didn't process it enough to react when his lips brushed against the crown of her head.

By the next time she woke up, the sun was high in the sky over Washington D.C., the streets were still plowed, but the bed was cold.

She frowned as she pushed herself to sit up, leaning back on a hand as she rubbed her bleary eyes. He'd left without saying a word.

She knew as she peeled the covers off herself, still damp in places with sweat from the previous night, that she shouldn't have expected him to stay.

Why would he have? He was a busy person; it was already... Shit, how had it already reached 2 PM?

She slouched into the bathroom, feeling like a wreck as she wiped the smeared mascara from her face, tied up her wreckage of sleep hair. She couldn't bring herself to take off his undershirt she'd donned the previous night, too cold to sleep in nothing but too exhausted to find some real clothing. (He'd laughed at her for it, but all the same, he didn't give much resistance before offering up his shirt.)

Regardless, they'd done nothing more than sleep together. He had no commitment to hang around any longer. If she were him, she probably wouldn't have stayed either. Still, it would've been nice for him to have said goodbye.

She tried to blink the sleep from her vision as she padded to her kitchen on bare feet; she would force herself to eat something before getting dressed and having to go down to another shift at the diner that evening.

Dry cereal might not have been the pinnacle of health for her just then, but it was easy, and she was in no mood to fight her cravings. When she pulled down a bowl, though, a flash of purple in the corner of her vision gave her pause.

She closed the cabinet absentmindedly as she turned, eyeing the post-it note dubiously from a distance, glancing around her apartment to confirm she was alone. (There hadn't been much question about the matter, but she couldn't be too careful.)

It was a moment later still when she approached it, stifling a yawn, and plucked it from where it'd been stuck onto the countertop.

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Y/N raised an exasperated eyebrow at the scrawled note despite the smile she fought back. The handwriting wasn't hard to recognize; not after she'd run her fingers over matching pen marks through a few hundred pages of Byron poetry -- not to mention the fact that there had only been two people in her apartment all night, and she certainly didn't remember writing that.

She shook her head lightly as she went to recycle it, but that time, it was the writing on the back of the paper that made her freeze.

For the next time you need some ancient literature, or for the next time you lock me out in the cold.

(202) 863-4828

Perhaps it wasn't such a gloomy afternoon after all.

------

Unknown Number: [Attachment: 1 image]

Unknown Number: nerd

Thomas grinned down at his phone where it was tucked halfway into his pocket. He'd been in meetings since noon, but after the night he'd had, he was struggling to focus on fundraising numbers and campaign strategy, most of it going in one ear and out the other as he waited restlessly for his phone to buzz. He'd begun to think by then that she wasn't going to reach out.

thomas 🙄: kinda harsh to say that abt someone who's been dead for 200 years

Y/N 🍑👀: ah yes because i was definitely referring to byron

Y/N 🍑👀: not the person who carries around purple sticky notes just to paste byron quotes in people's kitchens

thomas 🙄: you insulting my stationery?

Y/N 🍑👀: just your taste in literary quotes

thomas 🙄: don't be mad just cause i'm right

thomas 🙄: it didn't even wake you up when i left in the morning

thomas 🙄: at that rate you were gonna spend a lot more than a third of your life asleep

Y/N 🍑👀: wouldn't have still been asleep if you hadn't had me up past 4 am

thomas 🙄: is that really a complaint, now?

Y/N 🍑👀: uh??? yes, it is????? i have to deep clean my sheets and my mattress now smh

thomas 🙄: as though it wasn't worth it ;)

Y/N 🍑👀: wasn't worth the cost of the five gallons of bleach i'm gonna need to get the smell out

thomas 🙄: don't even pretend

thomas 🙄: you didn't seem to have any problem last night when i started ruining your sheets

thomas 🙄: you really gonna act like you don't want me to ruin them again?

Y/N could almost hear his voice in the messages, could picture his self-satisfied smile, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she read and re-read the text.

Y/N 🍑👀: you're paying my laundry bill

thomas 🙄: worth it to me

Y/N 🍑👀: or maybe we'll just have to ruin your sheets next time

Thomas inhaled sharply; his eyebrows shot up. Next time. He wouldn't have thought that just two words could turn him on quite that much.

"Thomas?" His head snapped up, his eyes wide; he'd somehow managed to forget entirely where he was in the few minutes since Y/N had texted him. Thankfully, it was only James who seemed to have noticed.

"Hmm?" He blinked, staring up at James's expectant stare. His gaze flickered across the conference room, and while James was clearly on the border of annoyance, everyone else looked to him curiously. "'M sorry, James, I spaced out for a second thinking about... your proposal for the fundraiser?"

That was the last thing he remembered hearing, and James didn't look impressed. "Right," he said dryly. "Anyway, I was asking how you felt about doing another town hall in D.C."

"Yeah, alright." He nodded, hardly processing the words, and James cocked a brow.

"Really?" He folded his arms. "I'm surprised you're giving in that easily. Last I remembered, you wanted to move your next few town halls up further north."

Thomas shrugged. His palms were sweating as all eyes turned to him for an answer after he'd spent the past ten minutes thinking about something very different from his supporters. "You make a good case for it."

(The fact that he hadn't caught a minute of the advocacy was irrelevant.)

James hadn't bought a word of it, and Thomas could tell from a single glance at him. He made a mental note not to pick someone who could see right through him as a running mate next time.

However, he fabricated a smile, much to Thomas's relief, having no desire to confront him right there or then. "I'm glad. I had a couple venues scouted out, but I'm open to any more suggestions."

"I think we need a new type of place. The same locations again and again get monotonous." Thomas struggled to resist rolling his eyes; he had to remind himself he'd only hired Charles Lee because he was donating more than twice his salary to the campaign.

"So what do you suggest?" He met his eyes skeptically from the other end of the table.

"What about a café?"

"A café?" Another of his campaign staffers who he couldn't identify by name spoke up -- Noah? Nate? Nathaniel? Thomas couldn't help but agree with his incredulity.

"It would be good for you to actually get to know your voters instead of... preaching to them from on high." As Lee continued, his voice close to a sneer, Thomas had to force himself to control his expression. "It would be much more personal for you to finally sit down and meet them."

"I'm runnin' a campaign, not speed-datin' the voters." Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw James purse his lips to repress a laugh.

"It's actually an excellent idea." Really, now? He glanced disbelievingly at the woman to his left. "The most common criticism you receive is about thinking yourself above your voting base. It'd be a good chance to lose some of your aristocratic reputation."

Hurtful, but not inaccurate. Thomas nodded, though he knew the skepticism was still clear in his gaze.

"If we do go through with this, where in the city do you propose we hold it?" James didn't seem to appreciate his fundraising proposal being derailed into a meet-and-greet, and by Charles Lee of all people. Thomas was right there with him, his annoyance only compounding when Lee shrugged unhelpfully.

"It's the Jefferson campaign, not the Lee campaign." Charles did make a good point with that. Thomas only wished he'd have thought of it before he decided to wedge his opinion into James's plan like a Republican jigsaw puzzle.

The question gave him pause, however. Were he to be perfectly honest, he didn't know more than five restaurants in the city by name, four of which wouldn't exactly earn him any points as a 'man of the people.' The last, however...

It was probably a poor idea; he'd known that even before he considered it. But it did seem to fit what they were looking for. It was in a low-income neighborhood, run by a family of immigrants. It had a bright atmosphere and an abundance of seating. However, the most tempting part to him wasn't how it'd look to the voters, but being able to see one person's expression when she learned he'd rented the place out for an entire evening.

It might've been a poor idea, but he had to put his campaign first, and the benefits were more than defensible.

He grinned. "Think I got a place in mind."

------

Y/N spent the next few days overthinking the fact that Thomas had left her last text on read. God, why'd she have to go and put the idea of a 'next time' out there? She was sure he didn't want commitment any more than she did, so she must have scared him off.

She hated how tumultuous the past Friday night had left her emotions.

Thankfully, when she arrived at work the following Monday, it didn't take too long for the distractions to come pouring in.

"Y/N!" Her head snapped upwards, her eyes wide as she saw Ashley marching into her office. She wore a smile, but her eyes were narrowed, and Y/N couldn't help the sense of dread building in her stomach.

"Ashley." Her response was wary.

"So your article got a decent bit of attention last Thursday." The words were nice enough, but they were altogether devoid of energy.

"... Thanks?"

"No, that's definitely a good thing; take the compliment." As Ashley circled around to take a seat on the edge of Y/N's desk, however, she tensed in her office chair, trying not to noticeably grip the armrests. "But a lot of it was controversial attention."

"How?" she asked, taken aback. Her brow was furrowed; it was likely the most unbiased article she'd written about the election.

"A lot of our readers seem to think you're siding with the Jefferson campaign toward the end of it." So this was why Ashley had entered looking so skeptical, and Y/N was sure her disbelief was written plainly across her face.

"Seriously? Because I mentioned that they're turning away funding from super PACs, you mean?" Ashley nodded, and Y/N let out a huff of incredulous laughter.

"You don't need to hold back on your critiques, alright? You can go after whatever information you uncover." She either didn't notice the annoyance growing in Y/N's eyes, or she didn't seem to care. "Don't be afraid to use what you uncover."

"And if what I uncover is entirely unrelated to the election?"

"Nothing is unrelated to the election, Y/N. That's exactly what you don't get." Something akin to excitement flashed in Ashley's gaze as she leaned forward toward Y/N, but the hint of vindictiveness gave her pause. "For you, the people are readers, not voters. You're not the one in an election."

Though she shifted further away in her rolling chair, Y/N said, "I'll keep it in mind, but for the time being, it's all been pretty mundane. Haven't found any skeletons in his closet."

"Then make some."

A beat passed; Y/N could only stare up at her boss in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes when Y/N didn't seem to be on the same page, which only elicited more worry. "You, as a writer, have grown to national visibility. You have the power to sensationalize things if you want to keep people hanging onto your every word."

"I'll keep it in mind, thanks." Ashley narrowed her eyes further at the bite behind Y/N's words.

"I'm serious. If you want to go further as a reporter, you can't just state facts. You need a narrative. There's a reason no one watches C-SPAN."

"Pretty sure I can spin a narrative on the election without stooping to the level of a gossip column." With Y/N's hard stare, Ashley seemed to realize she wasn't getting any further with the conversation, and after eyeing Y/N for another moment, she sighed heavily.

"You'd better show me a good narrative." Y/N had begun to tune her out as she pushed herself off of her desk, instead turning back to the article she'd been drafting. "I trust your judgment as a writer, so I'll let you take this however you want it. But people want to know who they're reading about."

"I have a feeling everyone knows who Thomas Jefferson is by now," Y/N responded dryly.

"I mean know him, know him." That elicited a raised eyebrow. "He's a person, not just a candidate. That's what America wants to see."

Y/N couldn't help the strange sense of pride that curled in her chest, tried instead to suppress it alongside the inexplicably conceited mantra Ashley's words elicited: she knew Thomas Jefferson in a way America never would.

When Ashley raised her eyebrows, Y/N realized she'd let the silence stretch on a moment too long. She swallowed her thoughts. "So you want me to air his dirty laundry?"

Y/N's eyes widened at the grin that broke through Ashley's unimpressed demeanor.

"Finally, she gets it." With that, Ashley turned to go, ignoring how dumbfounded she'd left Y/N. She glanced back with a well-pleased smile.

"If you need dirt, never be afraid to dig up whatever it is he's left buried."

-----

Unfortunately for Y/N, the distraction that was her boss's scarily cutthroat mentality only weaved itself into her racing thoughts about her most recent encounter with everyone's favorite Republican frontrunner. The next few evenings at the diner were slow, which she couldn't necessarily complain about -- being rushed and nagged by half of downtown D.C. over the course of a week wasn't quite her paradise. However, it only gave her time to spiral under the weight of everything she'd learned.

To her conflicted relief, coming in earlier in the afternoon on Wednesday provided a welcome diversion. It would've been her afternoon to herself after leaving her office at the Post, but when one of their baristas called in sick, the money for an extra two hours was too tempting for Y/N to turn down.

Despite her early shift, it wasn't until around 7:30 that her evening hit a bump in the road.

"Prosciutto roll for Belle?" she called out as she reached the end of the counter, putting the tray with the finished order and the receipt on the end of the counter. She pulled a paper cup out of the stack by the divider for the drink that was ordered. She was about to dash back to the kitchen after checking over the food, when--

"Excuse me."

She was sick of overly-familiar voices interrupting her workday. She froze on the balls of her feet where she'd begun to retreat, before turning with forced positivity permeating her demeanor. Couldn't her two jobs stay separate, at least most of the time?

"James! Hey. Congrats on the Super Tuesday win." His surprised smile put her at ease as she reached where he stood.

"Oh... Y/N. Thank you," he said, tone hesitant, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "I didn't know you worked here." She only shrugged.

"I just started two weeks ago. Not surprised you haven't noticed me around."

"No, I don't mean..." She raised an eyebrow when he trailed off, before he chucked to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is my first time coming here. You being an employee just... explains a few things, is all."

"Glad to provide some clarity... ?" With any context, his insinuation would've been painfully obvious; however, completely ignorant of the previous Saturday's meeting, Y/N was absolutely oblivious. She pursed her lips.

"You have my gratitude for it." James's knowing smile explained nothing for her, however.

"Right." She glanced at the growing line over at the cash register, anxious to keep the flow of customers going smoothly as the place filled up. "Anyway, what can I do for you? If you're here for dinner, line starts that way."

She nodded to the other end of the counter, but he shook his head.

"I'm not looking for food, actually."

Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but I'm starting to think you're in the wrong place."

"No, no..." He plucked a takeout menu from the stand toward the end of the counter and nodded, eyeing the diner's logo. "I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"You're sure?" Her skepticism was still blatant.

"I'm sure." He glanced up from the menu with a smile. "May I speak to your manager, just briefly?"

That was when she paled. Eyeing his nonchalant expression, she prayed none of her assumptions about his motives could possibly be true, especially as they grew stranger and stranger. Her new spiraling was beginning to tie back to her previous spiraling -- could James have found out about the past Friday? Would Thomas have possibly told him? Why would that mean he showed up at her family's diner to talk to her manager about it? Could he have been trying to--

"Why do you look so nervous?" Her alarm only seemed to amuse James, and she huffed, leaning against the counter.

"James. You're a politician who showed up at my place of work, rejected food, and requested to speak to my manager." She looked up at him with a flat gaze, and he only chuckled, shrugging in acquiescence. "There isn't some new health code no one told us about, is there?"

"Not this time. Check back in a week, though." She rolled her eyes. "In all seriousness, may I speak to whoever's in charge? I assure you I'm not here to shut down your café."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "How generous of you. Give me a second."

He nodded as she turned away, laughing when she took only three steps before aggressively yelling "Orlando!" in the direction of the kitchen.

The man in question emerged with his brow furrowed, wiping his hands on a dishtowel with his brows furrowed. "What's wrong, mija?"

"Nothing yet." She glanced between him and James, her stare inquisitive. "Someone wants to speak to you about the diner real quick."

"You get us into trouble again?" Orlando raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N couldn't help her wry smile as she rolled her eyes, batting at his arm.

"No, Orlando," she huffed.

Her contrived annoyance hardly buried her amusement before James decided to pipe up. "'Again'?"

She turned to James with a playful glare, and he grinned. "You stay outta this." She pointed a reprimanding finger at him, but he didn't appear at all fazed. "Gonna get me fired before you have a chance to shut us down, at this rate."

"You got us shut down?" Orlando gasped, but when Y/N saw the mirth behind his playful shock, she groaned.

"No, Orlando." James's and Orlando's grins mirrored one another as she looked between them, exhaustion settling into her tone. "I need you two to take each other off my hands, now. I have drinks to make."

"Of course, Y/N." James wasn't too hurt by the final glare she sent him before turning away.

As she fell back into her rhythm fulfilling orders, Y/N couldn't help but keep an eye on the two men, especially not when Orlando emerged from behind the counter to talk to James, trying to stay out of her way but also moving just out of her earshot. She knew the glances she kept sneaking toward them weren't as subtle as they should've been; she knew Orlando could see her watching them. As James continued on, Orlando's entire demeanor went from skeptical to welcoming, his body language opening up in turn. (Y/N tried briefly to read their lips, but something gave her the feeling that 'sent out the minors' wasn't quite true to their conversation.)

She had to force herself to turn her focus back to the customers as the unfinished drink orders began to pile up, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the mounting line of cups to her right with names and orders, but with a distinct lack of coffee. A few more minutes passed as she struggled to keep up, finally holding pace with the ever-growing demand when Orlando shook James's hand, passed off a business card before the two parted ways.

At the risk of making just a few customers lose their heads, Y/N followed Orlando into the kitchen, her curiosity overriding her work ethic.

"Hey, what was that about?" She caught him just as he was tying his apron back on. How pleased he looked had her skeptical.

"Oh, nothing very big. Don't worry." He withdrew his plastic gloves from the front pocket, pulling them on with a shrug. "He asked me about renting out the diner for a night for an event with Thomas Jefferson's campaign."

That stopped Y/N cold. "He did?"

"Mhm." He nodded, and he didn't seem to notice how stunned Y/N had suddenly begun to look. "I told him yes. I didn't think Mira would be thrilled if I turned it down. He offered us a lot of money for it."

"Oh, did he now?" She let out a shaky exhale, glancing back at the front of the diner to see James just exiting through the glass doors. "And did he say why he wanted to do it here, of all places?"

Orlando shrugged. "I didn't ask."

Why wouldn't that be your first question? Despite her moderate angst, Y/N tried not to let her frustration show. "Is Mira around? I need to talk to her."

"Aren't you in the middle of a shift?" He gave her a pointed look, and it elicited a dramatic, drawn-out groan from Y/N.

"Orlando," she whined, folding her arms. He gave her a mocking pout.

"Y/N." She rolled her eyes. "You're losing us valuable customers and valuable time as the line gets longer. Go back to making drinks."

Despite her scowl, she nodded. "After I close tonight, you're gonna get a piece of my mind."

------

As it turned out, it wasn't Orlando who was given a piece of her mind that evening.

2 New Messages, 10:38 PM

Thomas raised an eyebrow as his phone vibrated. He sat at his own dining room table, the sound coming from just inches to the left of where he was working on his laptop. Who would be contacting him that late?

Y/N 🍑👀: tell me it wasn't you who came up with the idea of renting out mira and orlando's diner on the only night when i work all evening

Y/N 🍑👀: please for your sake blame james

He grinned. The draft reports of the campaign's funding allocation he'd been typing up could wait just a few minutes.

thomas 🙄: i feel like you're just tryna get me to lie so you can slander me in the papers for it

Y/N 🍑👀: thomas i stg

Y/N 🍑👀: are you just planning your campaign around what's gonna annoy me most????

thomas 🙄: that's a heavy accusation, i would never

thomas 🙄: just wanna make sure you don't get too lonely without me

Y/N's scowl held no real anger as she read the texts.

Y/N 🍑👀: oh of course

Y/N 🍑👀: if this is your way of trying to get laid again, it's a flawed strategy

thomas 🙄: what happened to ruining my sheets "next time"? :)

Y/N 🍑👀: you still owe me for all the bleach i had to buy

thomas 🙄: don't avoid the question

Y/N 🍑👀: don't avoid the cleaning bill

thomas 🙄: if you're still tryna ruin MY sheets next time, it won't be your problem

Y/N 🍑👀 is typing...

Thomas rolled his eyes when the typing bubble disappeared and he didn't receive another text. Y/N, on the other hand, was biting her lip, her fingers hesitant on her keyboard as she read his text to herself. Her heart rate was picking up as flashes of the past Friday played in her mind.

thomas 🙄: did you really just stop typing on me??

Y/N 🍑👀: can we return to my actual question???? why the fuck did you decide to rent out the diner for your campaign?????

thomas 🙄: wasn't my idea to hold a meet and greet at a restaurant

Y/N 🍑👀: there are literally hundreds of restaurants in dc tho

thomas 🙄: and??

Y/N 🍑👀: and you just happened to rent out the diner i work at during the entirety of my shift???

thomas 🙄: pretty sure i mentioned a while back that i was gonna learn your schedule

Y/N 🍑👀: i'm not sure how good it's gonna look for your campaign when i file a restraining order against you

thomas 🙄: you mean you don't miss me? :(

Y/N 🍑👀: oh c'mon you're just asking for it now

Y/N 🍑👀: you almost make it too easy to mock you

thomas 🙄: i'm so hurt

Y/N 🍑👀: already?? i haven't even started mocking you yet

thomas 🙄: we'll see who's mocking who when you're stuck with my campaign for five hours this friday

Y/N 🍑👀: five hours??????

thomas 🙄: don't get too excited now

Y/N 🍑👀: fuck you

thomas 🙄: only after you get around to changing your sheets

✔ Read, 11:03 PM

------

Try as she might, Y/N failed to find a way out of her evening shift the following Saturday. She pleaded with her co-workers (no one else was available); she faked sick (Jac marched up to her apartment just to call her out); she was about ready to find a fake ID and leave the country when a better idea occurred to her.

Mailto: [email protected]

Hi Mr. Adams--

(No, too informal.)

Vice President Adams:

(.... Passable.)

I hope this email finds you well. This is Y/N L/N of the Washington Post, to whom you gave your email address a number of weeks ago at President Washington's gala.

(She prayed she was using 'whom' correctly.)

As you know, I've been assigned to cover the Jefferson campaign up until this November's election, and I'm reaching out for any timely information you would be willing to share on the current relationship between Secretary Jefferson and yourself, as the projected Democratic nominee. I was hoping to find out--

(What was she hoping to find out? Her mind was still attached to Ashley's most recent ominous wisdom -- don't be afraid to dig up what he's left buried. But how could she ask the vice president for dirt without erring on the wrong side of collusion?

Backspace just a little.)

I was hoping to give my readers a somewhat more personal perspective on Jefferson's time holding office as Secretary of State. Is there any chance you'd be available for an interview? Please let me know; I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

(Was regards too stiff? Backspace.)

Best regards,

Y/N L/N

She'd been hesitant to actually use the email address he'd given her; she bit her lip as she pressed send. She might not have been able to find a way out of five hours of the diner being full of nothing but Jefferson supporters, but if Ashley was looking for dirt, eavesdropping and an opposing perspective could go far for her. Despite her writing prospects, she spent the entirety of her Saturday dreading its end.

James was the first to show up. The diner was cleared of its usual patrons, but that night, it'd be operating at capacity.

"So should I assume your presence means this whole 'meet-and-greet' wasn't an elaborate hoax just to deepen my frown lines?" Y/N was looking up at him with somber resignation as he entered the diner wearing a wide smile.

"Your input and documentation are valuable to this campaign, Y/N. We would never target you like that." She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the counter, despite how amused James appeared. "In other words, you have a long evening ahead of you."

"Y'know, I'm firmly convinced you're just trying to make my life Hell until I stop covering the election," she accused him, and he laughed.

"Have a little faith. I wasn't even made aware that you work here."

"Yeah, you weren't."

"What are you implying, exactly?"

"Take a shot in the dark." She glared at him, but it had no real anger in it. "Now, I'm not sure why Thomas is so fixated on antagonizing me, but you'd better tell him--"

"James, hey, you ready to get set up?" It was at that moment the front door of the diner flew open, and it was only a moment of silence that passed before Thomas looked up from whatever he was so absorbed in on his phone, and when he caught sight of Y/N's exasperated expression, a grin split his face. "Y/N? You workin' here, now?"

"Don't even start."

"Aw, c'mon, what d'you possibly mean by that?" His hands were stuffed in his pockets; he wore a shit-eating grin, and Y/N just scowled.

"I have too many hours left in my shift to deal with you two this early." She pointed an accusing finger between the two of them as she threw down her dishrag. "I'm getting Mira and Orlando."

"Some hospitality," Thomas pouted as Y/N began to turn, pausing to give him the stink eye, and he failed to mask his entertainment under his feigned offense.

From there, the evening went about as well as she could've hoped. Mira, as expected, was beyond overjoyed to see Thomas, didn't waste even a moment in helping him set up, and when the floodgates opened at 4:30 PM sharp, Y/N's feet were sore even thinking about scurrying back and forth for five hours on the tile floor she'd already spent her morning polishing. (So much for that polish, anyway. It was less than five minutes before layer after layer of bootprints wracked the shining ceramic with an avante-garde collage of brackish slush and sidewalk gunk.)

Demands were ringing in her ears. She struggled to distinguish between her rather lifelike migraine and the surrounding frenzy of voters and journalists alike -- the voices all sounded the same. A disembodied shout requested an extra tub of honey butter, and she tossed one onto the end of the counter without thinking twice. Two dozen hamburgers over the next thirty minutes seemed a small price to pay to no longer be working the cash register.

She'd begun to count how many viruses could fit on the surface of each dollar she collected in tips with a strained smile, retreating back to the kitchen to wash her hands every time she stuck one into the pocket of her apron. Considering the crowd, she considered herself lucky she was making tips at all.

The money was an undeniable result of the wandering eyes of a number of middle-aged men in the crowd, being to various degrees of seedy -- her skinny jeans seemed to be a hit. Though he wasn't one among the crowd stuffing wadded bills into her hand with a sleazy grin every time she came around to bus tables, there was one man whose wandering gaze she kept meeting. (He'd rather have provided a much different type of gratuity, and she suspected that went beyond subsidizing her trip to the laundromat to wash her bedsheets.)

She had to put it out of her mind every time she caught and subsequently broke his stare. The wolfish smile he watched her with had her feeling more vulnerable than she'd have liked; every time she noticed it, she couldn't help but pale and duck away like a mouse dodging a trap (no matter how tempting the bait might've been). Not to mention it was distracting her from her job. She shook the thought from where it weighed down on her shoulders, instead scurrying back to the register to deal with the line.

"Alright, what can I get you?" The words were breathless as she rushed to the counter, having just made seven lattes in the span of approximately five minutes and ferried forty kilograms of dirty dishes back to the kitchen -- she wasn't looking forward to washing them at the end of the night. Her tired eyes snapped open when she realized who stood before her. "Lafayette! How long have you been here?"

"Standing in line, or in ze restaurant?" His smile was just on the right side of jeering, and she rolled her eyes.

"I didn't take that long to get here; I don't wanna hear it."

"Of course not, chérie." He eyed the menu posted above her as he spoke. "I arrived 'ere nearly two hours ago, but I 'ave only just now come to get food."

"Been avoiding me?" she teased.

"Can you blame me?" Her scowl was all but involuntary at how self-satisfied he looked, choosing to avoid her annoyed gaze. "Any recommendations from ze menu?"

"Whatever's most expensive." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she shrugged, holding her hands up defensively. "What? Like you can't afford the New England stuffed lobster?"

He pursed his lips as he looked back down at her, but his eyes were all smug amusement. "Fine. I will 'ave zat and ze agave lemonade."

"My paycheck appreciates it," she said. "That all?"

"Zat will be all for me." The devious smile he wore as he leaned in a fraction of an inch had her on edge. "But with 'ow he 'as been ogling you all night, I daresay Thomas may want something more."

"Lafayette!" she scolded him, stepping back from the counter to glare. "Why has that become the first thing you bring up every time you see me, now? I am at work."

Her seething was in a hushed tone, and he only shrugged, leafing through his wallet with a smug smile. "Remind him of zat, not me."

____________

It was nearing eight o'clock, and Y/N refused to remind herself that she still had more than an hour and a half to go. She'd deigned to wash the dishes by that point, actively avoiding the crowds in the dining room between Thomas's wolfish gaze and Lafayette's knowing smile -- she wasn't sure when her family diner had become a lion's den.

The yellow latex gloves she'd been forced to sport were an occupational hazard, she supposed, as she reached up to return her latest stack of side plates to their rightful place in the cabinet above her. When she turned back to the sink--

"Thomas!" She jumped back, holding the edge of the counter behind her. She hadn't heard him come in.

He raised an entertained eyebrow as she pulled off her thick rubber gloves, throwing them down onto the counter with a thud before reaching over to turn off the water. "What are you doing back here?" she huffed, "You can't be here."

He shrugged, and she could feel her heart rate rising along with the blood to her cheeks. Him cornering her, alone in the kitchen at her part-time job after all the texts they'd exchanged over the past week, had her feeling increasingly vulnerable.

He plastered on a mock pout, folding his arms as he leaned against the side of the counter. "Oh, nice to see you, too, Y/N. I'm great, thanks so much for askin'."

Y/N scowled. "Don't pretend I'm the one out of line, here."

"You aren't happy to see me?" His brow creased as he held a hand to his heart, and though she rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitched upward. "You're hurtin' my feelings. Figured it'd be a welcome surprise."

"Oh, of course, based on how thrilled I was to hear you rented the place out for the night?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

She huffed at his audacity, shaking her head.

"Anyway, what d'you want?" she asked as she moved to go back to where she'd been at the sink, shooing him away. However, entirely undeterred, he took a step toward her, and she took one back, nearing the corner of the room. Her eyes were wide.

"Thomas," she said hesitantly, and he took another nonchalant step toward her, slowly backing her against the kitchen wall. Her voice was shaky, her heart pounding in her ears like a warning bell. "What are you doing?"

"Well, sweetheart," he began matter-of-factly, his gaze hawklike. Her breathing stopped for a moment as he closed in on her, one hand landing on the wall beside her head and the other on her waist. His grin broadened. "I seem to remember being promised a 'next time.'"

At that, she couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh, the sound breathy. "Seriously? And you think now is a good time to cash that in? I'm working."

"So am I." He shrugged. "Makes it more fun, doesn't it?"

"No, it absolutely does not!" Her reprimanding was losing its bite, though; his smile was apparently more contagious than anything she was going to pick up from touching the used cutlery of his unsavory voters. He leaned in toward her with a mischievous eyebrow raised. "Thomas."

"Y/N," he echoed mockingly before he dipped down, lips finding the side of her cheekbone, trailing down toward her jaw.

"There's a window in here," she reminded him, despite tilting her head to give him access to her neck. "We're in plain sight."

"Not from this corner." She could feel his grin against the side of her face. "Really think I didn't think this through, sugar?"

She let out a skeptical hum when his mouth reached her collarbone, running her hands up his chest, arching up against him despite herself. "This is a bad ide-- Ah!" She squeaked when he nipped at her skin, and his grip on her hip tightened.

"Whatever you say," he murmured into her neck.

"We're going to get caught." She let out a soft gasp as his hand on her hip traveled south.

"By who? Mira?" He pulled back to look her in the eye, a playful shine to his gaze. "She gonna fire you for stealing the attention of her favorite customer?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, pursing her lips to push back the grin that threatened to break hef stony facade. "No, she's gonna fire me for whatever health code violation this constitutes." She shoved him lightly by the shoulder, but it only prompted him to anchor her to him by the waist.

"I won't tell." The hand that rested against the wall threaded itself into her hair, tipping her head back to look her in the eye. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for any sort of reaction in the affirmative. She bit her lip.

"My kitchen shift ends in less than half an hour." His expression visibly deflated, and she gave a small, sly smile. "So you'd better be quick."

Delighted surprised flashed in his eyes; she squealed when he hitched one of her legs up to his waist, tightening her hold on his shoulders. "Well, I can't turn down a challenge, now, can I?"

With that, he reached over and flicked the sink's faucet back on, the water drumming loudly on the underside of a saucepan. She furrowed her brow. "What are you doing?"

"Drownin' you out."

His lips returned to her neck with increased fervor, and he tugged aside the collar of her shirt, biting softly into her skin. "Fuck you," she moaned, and he laughed.

"Right here, in plain sight?"

She was about to rebuke him, eyes narrowed and mouth ajar, before he began sucking a hickey into the skin of her shoulder, and he felt her whole body relax in his grasp as she let out a groan. "You're unbelievable."

"I do my best." Her eyes began to flutter shut as she lost sight of her initial task, the small tsunami of dishes becoming hardly a wave in the distance. His hands trailed further downward, and she could feel her chest heaving as she dug her nails into the thick material of his suit. She bit down on her lip, trying to remain quiet, desperate not to draw any attention, when the door opposite them flew open.

Y/N squealed, shoving Thomas away from her, but the damage was done when she met the intruder's eye.

"Lafayette?" she asked breathlessly, "What are you doing back here?"

"So it is only a problem when I come into ze kitchen?" He gave Thomas a pointed look, who glanced to Y/N guiltily. She yanked her shirt back over the reddening mark halfway across her shoulder with a huff. "I was only coming to ask where ze bathroom was, but I fear ze two of you may need it more zan I do."

"Out. Both of you." Y/N glared at Lafayette, who looked spectacularly amused by the scene he'd walked in on. Thomas, however, looked nearly as put-out as Y/N. She walked over to pull her rubber gloves back on, turned the water off in the sink. "I need to get back to work."

"It seems you should do ze same," Lafayette commented to Thomas, who straightened his tie, scowling.

"Thanks for the reminder." He brushed past Lafayette on his way to the door before he turned to leave, casting Y/N one more burning gaze that left her palms sweating.

Y/N turned back to the sink and grabbed the next dish from the stack, expecting Lafayette to follow Thomas out, but he only raised his eyebrows, joining her near the sink as she picked up a sponge and returned to scrubbing a spot of yellowish crud from the edge of a plate, grimacing when she realized it was crusted over.

"So," he started, and she looked up at him warily, not abandoning her task. "I take it my hunch as to where you disappeared to at ze fundraiser last week was not misguided?"

She closed her eyes to take a deep breath, pausing for a moment, thoroughly displeased with the hubristic smile he wore. She didn't give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. "What d'you want, Lafayette?"

She glanced in his direction as he pulled his lips into a dramatic pout. "Is my company not good enough for you to 'ave here? You hurt me, chérie."

"Right. No agenda there," she said dryly, and he shrugged, unable to contain his self-satisfaction.

"So, 'ow long have you and Thomas been carrying on in secret?"

After the momentary pause the bluntness of his question gave her, she rolled her eyes. He came around to the drying rack on her other side, apparently ignoring her peeved sarcasm. "We aren't."

"Non? Then what, exactly, did I just walk in on?"

"Give it your wildest guess." As she turned to add a plate to the stack, she watched Lafayette hoist himself up onto the counter to her left. He gave her a sly look.

"Why did you not tell me about your little liaison? It is not like it was difficult to figure out."

"'Liaison'," she snorted. "Is there anything you don't know how to make sound pretentious?"

"Do not avoid the matter at hand."

She could feel her cheeks beginning to heat as she turned the faucet back on, and it wasn't just the steam coming from the scalding water. "It's not like that, Lafayette. Seriously."

"'Ow far 'ave you two gone?"

"Lafayette!" She turned with that to glare at him, his nonchalance about her embarrassment only compounding upon it.

"What? Do you really not want someone to confide in?" She paused at his words, though her scowl didn't relax, and he took that as an invitation to continue. "I can only assume you 'ave not been 'aving zis conversation with Alexander. I can picture quite clearly how 'e would react."

She let out a huff of bitter laughter as she returned to the dishes. "Can't argue with that one. He thinks the hickey I came back from Detroit with was from you."

"Non!" His eyes shone with mischief, despite his contrived incredulity. "I am your cover story?"

"It's his theory; I didn't even give him the idea." She added another plate to her pile. "Though, a lot of my friends seem to think you're a whore, now."

"Mm, and why should I not go and tell them ze reality of ze situation?"

"Don't you dare!" she said. "What do you stand to gain from that?"

"Protecting my reputation, apparently," he said mildly. "Or, you could simply tell me what 'as been going on."

"Are you blackmailing me for gossip?"

"Think of it as an exchange."

She scoffed, turning her head to look at him. "You really are shameless, huh?" He shrugged, folding his arms as he turned to look at her expectantly, his knee bumping her pile of silverware. She sighed. "Fine. We screwed. You happy?"

"Delighted." He wore a small smile as he shifted her dishes out of his way. "'Ow many times? Only once? When was zis?"

"Lafayette!"

"What?" he asked innocently, but the exhaustion written across her face made him laugh. "Come on, Y/N; we are friends, non?"

"Seems like I'm stuck with you, so sure."

"Zen why do you not feel like you can speak freely with me?"

When she met his eyes that time, the words seemed to be in earnest, not even mocking in the slightest. He wore a small smile, and he broke her gaze after a moment, eyeing the layout of the kitchen.

"Alright. If it'll get you off my back." She sighed, shooting him a dirty look, and he nodded, pursing his lips to suppress the grin that was bursting at the seams. "It was a week before Friday. Only once. And, to be honest, I have no idea where to go from here."

"Thomas seems to have some idea where he wants to go." When she gave him a dead stare, he laughed. "I am not making fun of you, zis time. Truly."

"This time," she repeated bitterly. "I'm just... not entirely sure what I want. The whole thing feels risky."

"It certainly is risky if you are trying to get lucky in public during his campaign event." He gave her a scandalized look, but her scowl was unwavering.

"Thanks for the advice."

Her sarcasm left him undeterred. He shrugged. "But if you are careful, what is ze harm? I assure you, even the papers zat care enough to cover Thomas's sex life do not 'ave the resources to find out who is ending up in his bed."

She hesitated a moment, considering his words.

"No, you're probably right." She sighed. "The thing is... I don't know. It feels like it could become a problem."

"Ah, is there... something more you want out of zis?" The sidelong look he gave her was more concerned than she expected it to be. She shook her head, giving a light laugh.

"No, no, nothing like that." He'd begun moving the dishes to his other side by then to maintain his spot on the counter. Y/N rolled her eyes when she noticed. "My career just complicates things, is all."

Before he could respond, she took a step back from the counter, peeling off her rubber gloves despite the looming load of dishwashing she'd still have to do before the end of the night. "And as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to get back to making sandwiches. Head back out to the dining room."

She jerked her chin toward the door while retying the strings on the back of her apron. Lafayette frowned.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Not trying to. Kicking you out." She gave him a flat stare as she turned toward where she stood. "Some of us have bills to pay. C'mon."

He scowled as he hopped off of the counter and she waved him away, following close behind to herd him out the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at her when she did, though, and his gaze looked once again as smug as it had when he first realized what he'd walked in on. "If you insist, chérie. I understand that you must do away with me before you can carry on with your little affair. Do not let me get in ze way."

Y/N rolled her eyes at how pleased he looked with himself as he strolled back into the seating area, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. However, when she returned to the kitchen counter, she couldn't help but scan the room through the front window; who she was looking for went without saying. She found him already looking at her, and she swallowed hard.

Nothing articulable was conveyed in his heavy stare, nor in the barely-there smile he wore, arms folded as he watched her shamelessly. She bit her lip. The three seconds she held his gaze felt like hours, and when he finally winked and broke eye contact to turn to someone who'd just approached his table, she felt her stomach turn. This wasn't over.

------

Thomas's rally ended at nine, but it wasn't until closer to nine-thirty that he'd persuaded the final member of his constituency to call it a night. Mira, Orlando, Jac, and all their miscellaneous employees had gone home when their shifts ended at the official end of the event, but Y/N was stuck on the clock for another hour or longer until she finished cleaning up the mess left behind from the evening. Unfortunately, his event running over time meant that he didn't start clearing out his campaign setup until around five minutes after the diner was empty, and that his posters, decorations, and gaudily-colored buttons weren't actually gone until closer to nine fifty.

Y/N was clearing the kitchen counters all the while, knowing she couldn't begin to mop up the grayish mess of liquified dirt and matted grass scattered across the floor until they were both gone. When they seemed to be on the last load of red streamers and campaign merchandise, she emerged back toward the front counter to lock up behind them. Thomas was still out in the back when James approached her, his final box of t-shirts resting on his hip.

"Is there anything else you need from us before we leave? I don't want to take up too much more of your time."

Y/N smiled at the concerned look he wore. "Depends; have you paid Mira in full for all our troubles?" Despite her exhaustion, her tone was light, and the tension in James's brow relaxed.

"I gave her the check before she left."

"Then you're good to go." She shrugged as she went to collect another basin of dirty dishes from under the side of the counter; her annoyance at it couldn't even rise, not after the mountain of plates she already had waiting for her next to the sink. "I've got everything else under control."

He nodded. "Thank you for letting us rent out the venue. All our attendees seemed more than happy with it."

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't be here, but I'll take the credit if you're offering it." She raised a playful eyebrow, and he wore a tired smile.

"The credit's all yours."

"My gratitude is beyond words." Though the words were mocking, he let out a light laugh, and she couldn't help her wry grin.

"I'm always glad to hear it." He took another glance around the place, checking for anything that might've been left behind, before turning toward the back exit Thomas had just re-emerged from.

"What else do we still have to box up?"

James paused on his way out. "You're welcome to do a final sweep, but I believe we have everything."

"Yeah?"

"I'm fairly certain." He looked back toward where Y/N stood behind the counter once more, leaning down on the bakery case. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Bye, James." Her sleepy voice has a singsong lilt to it that made Thomas smile as he searched the dining room a final time. She'd started toward the kitchen once more to retrieve her broom, but Thomas's voice stopped her.

"Anything else I can do before I head out?"

She turned on her heel to face him, wore a soft smile when she saw how earnest he looked, eyebrows raised and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants. "So long as you’ve gotten everything you brought here, there’s nothing I need from you."

"You sure?" When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged casually. "Just hate to leave this place a mess from our campaign event. Don't wanna leave you with all the extra cleanup."

She pursed her lips when her smile threatened to broaden. "That's sweet, Thomas, but really, it's okay. I'm on the clock for a while longer anyway. I think I can stick it out, considering I'm the one employed here."

"Feel like I remember hearin' somewhere that your shift ends at ten." He furrowed his brow, walking toward the counter where she stood. She didn't quite get his point until she turned to the clock above the doorway: it was nine fifty-eight. "'S there really nothin' I can do to help out?"

She snorted, folded her arms. "Not unless mopping the dried coffee off of the floors is your idea of a good time." When his expectant expression was unwavering, her eyebrows shot up. "You're not seriously offering your services as a janitor, are you?"

The corners of his lips quirked. "Only if it's welcome, sweetheart."

"You're wearing a full suit." The disbelief in her eyes was rigid despite his conviction.

"Don't mind. Long as I can throw my jacket somewhere." He cracked a grin. "Unless, of course, you just wanna get rid of me."

She eyed him skeptically, but he didn't seem to be joking just then. "If you're serious, I'm not turning down free labor."

"Or an excuse to spend more time with me?" His tone was playful, and she couldn't help her spiteful laugh as she re-entered the kitchen.

"So that's your ulterior motive? Hope you don't think you're getting any when it's eleven o'clock and I'm half asleep from my seven hours here tonight."

"As, c'mon now, why's there gotta be an accusation?" he called after her, and she could hear the teasing frown in his voice. "Can't I just wanna lend a hand?"

"I'll believe it when I see it." She emerged not a minute later with a broom and dustpan to see him having shaken off his jacket and undone his tie. She quirked a brow.

"Hey, anywhere I can throw these?" His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms as he slid his tie out of his collar, popping open the first few buttons on his dress shirt, and Y/N bit her lip. The suits he wore didn't quite do justice to his physique; his jackets may have fit tighter around his upper arms, but his shirts were practically molded around his biceps just above where the veins bulging in his forearms disappeared into his sleeves. She was sure the few extra inches of visible skin below his collar were meant to draw her wandering eyes, only hinting at the toned chest she knew lay beneath the starched fabric.

When she looked back up and caught his eye, he looked predictably cocky. He wore a wide, smug grin, and she rolled her eyes before he even spoke. "You're starin', sweetheart."

Y/N shrugged, wearing the smallest of smiles. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Anything you wanna see again?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and she laughed.

"Tempting," she said, and when surprise flashed in his eyes, his interest piqued as he started toward her. However, she stopped him at arm's length, a hand on his chest. "But you know what would be really sexy?"

His delight in the turn of events was obvious. "What's that?"

She leaned her broom against the counter and took a step forward, pushing herself onto her toes until her lips brushed against the skin just below his ear, and his hands ghosted down to her hips. Her voice was just above a whisper. "Watching you disinfect all the dining room's high-touch surfaces."

She pulled back with a broad grin when he let out a disappointed groan. "Seriously?"

His frustration was obvious, his brow furrowed as he looked down at her, deadpan, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, yeah. Free labor really gets me going."

"Tease," he grumbled, and Y/N gave him a skeptical stare.

"Don't you gimme that; I'm not the one here under false pretenses," she reminded him, and he folded his arms.

"Now I dunno what you could be refferin' to." She raised a dubious eyebrow when a grin split his phony discontent. "But there's nothin' wrong with mixin' business and pleasure."

"Don't you dare try to derail me after taking up six hours of my time, Jefferson." She prodded his chest with a scowl. "If you're sticking around, I'm putting you to work."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." When he did grab the broom, he glanced back toward the kitchen, wearing an inquisitive frown. "I'm gonna go stick my jacket in a cupboard; is that alright? I'll only be a minute."

"Oh, yeah; do you want me to take it? We have a coat closet in the back."

"Nah, 's alright. I can find it."

Though she gave him a skeptical once-over, Y/N nodded. "Have at it."

When he wasn't back a few minutes later, her train of thoughts managed to run a full 5k -- what could he possibly be spending that much time in the back for? Was he really still trying to find a coat hanger, by then? How hard was it to find a closet in exactly two rooms? Or, really, was he just hiding out until she'd already gotten the worst of the grime off of the tile?

She eliminated her final guess when early-2000s pop music began blaring through the diner's sound system. Though she groaned loudly enough for him to hear it from where he'd located the aux input, she couldn't say this was really a downgrade from Orlando's dusk-till-dawn smooth jazz. When he emerged from behind the kitchen's swinging door and caught sight of her dead stare, he laughed.

"Hanging up your jacket, huh?" Her annoyance was contrived; the way the corners of her lips twitched up gave her away.

"Hey, I can multitask." He bit his smile back, giving her a serious look, brow furrowed. "I said I'm here to help, didn't I?"

"How is this possibly helping?"

"'Cause you need to liven up a little bit," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "Cleanin's only boring if you make it boring."

"You'll be singing a different tune when you start wiping down the bathroom."

"Hey, how'd I end up on bathroom duty?" he pouted, and she shrugged, turning to the shelves at the back to hide her growing smile.

"As the only one of us who actually works here, I've elected myself the de-facto CEO." She hung her dishrag up on the rack next to the sink before looking back at him over her shoulder, shrugging. "Hate to break it to you, but you're on my turf."

"But I'm a volunteer!" he protested, and she grinned.

"My point exactly."

"Now, what if I refuse to do it?" Though she was busy restocking all the cups that she'd finished washing earlier in the day, she could hear Thomas's footsteps approaching where she stood behind the counter.

"Then you don't, and you finally leave so that I can be productive."

"Sounds like I'm really the one with the power, here."

"Not when I have something I know you want." She looked up with a suggestive smile when he hoisted himself onto the counter beside her, and he raised his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest.

"And now what's that?"

"Three guesses, Thomas." She had a feeling he'd only need one of them when his gaze began to wander down the length of her body, eyes shining.

"I dunno how unpaid this labor is, sweetheart."

"Well, you won't quite be making minimum wage," she said, turning back to face him as she leaned against the counter opposite where he sat. "But I think the employment benefits will make it worth your time."

"That so?" He pushed himself off the counter's edge, hardly having to take a step forward before his arms landed on either side of her on the counter's edge, caging her in, and she inhaled sharply. His grin was wide; his hips pressed into hers as he leaned in, and she swallowed roughly, leaning back on her hands which rested on the linoleum countertop.

"I'd like to think so," she breathed, as he dipped down, wasting no time as his lips met the tender skin below her jaw.

"Mm, I think I'm gonna need to decide that one for myself," he murmured against her neck, and despite how tempting it was when his hands gravitated to her waist, falling slowly further as he bit down softly on her earlobe, she pushed him away the minute she found her last shred of willpower.

"Uh-uh." Thomas scowled as he pulled back, hands planted on the counter at her sides. She folded her arms. "I'm not gonna make even more of a mess of this place that I'll have to clean up. When the diner's shining, I'd be happy to revisit."

One of his hands rose to her jawline, lifting her chin up ever so slightly to look him in the eye, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "After the place is spotless," he murmured, his voice hard and his gaze fixed on her lips, "Hope you know how much you're gonna regret leadin' me on like this. You won't be tryin' it again."

Despite her effort to remain unaffected, Y/N's breath caught, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she struggled to fight the heat rising in her cheeks. Her eyes were wider than she knew, and he seemed to be reveling in her reaction, wearing a wolfish grin.

After a moment, she swallowed, took a deep breath, her voice shaky. "Last I checked, I'm still at work."

"And I wouldn't dream of hinderin' your career." Thomas winked as he took a step back, going for the broom where she'd discarded it before, acting as though nothing at all had happened. Y/N was left reeling.

Thus began the next ninety minutes of her life. Though, to Y/N's surprise, Thomas did end up cleaning the bathrooms, putting up little resistance, he'd also managed to convince Y/N to help him. Despite there having been two of them, every subsequent task took twice as long as it otherwise would've. She'd have denied it, but Thomas's presence was a more-than-welcome distraction.

About half an hour later, he'd managed to drag her away from her Lysol bleach and her old rags in favor of taking a break to dance with him (apparently, she was underappreciating the wonder that was Outkast's greatest hit). She rolled her eyes at the suggestion but grudgingly obliged, and Thomas couldn't help but call out the small, growing smile that broke her grumpy facade. He'd seemingly done the impossible by getting her to let herself go for an evening. Neither of them was quite sure how the floor had gradually become spotless between their distracted banter, nor when exactly they'd managed to wipe down every surface in the kitchen as his playlist seamlessly ventured through every one of Britney Spears's wildest phases.

She'd just about forgotten about her fatigue as Thomas repeatedly soaked the ankles of her jeans with his mop, claiming that her being in his line of sight was just too much of a distraction for him to do his job properly. She scoffed every time, but the fact that her cheeks had grown sore from smiling made her annoyance marginally less convincing.

He eventually took off his shiny black oxfords after having spent the evening trying to hide his concern over some of the chemicals in her soaps ruining the varnish; she didn't bother to argue with his insistence that it absolutely marked a milestone in their progress that he wasn't afraid to step in any greenish gunk or black mold -- if they hadn't missed any, what was the harm? However, she did reprimand him for ransacking their fridge when she left for three minutes to put the mop away. She didn't stay mad long.

Wiping down the glass of the bakery display case took too long for her liking. As it turned out, it was difficult to focus after teasing him for the expected mediocrity of the John Mayer impression he claimed to be impeccable, as he immediately decided it needed to be proven. However, she didn't regret provoking him when the result had her sides beginning to hurt from laughing. She was just glad that they'd nearly finished cleaning.

Much to his dismay, Thomas had to cut the music after the sweet old lady who lived above the dry-cleaners next door came down, banging on the back door to chew them out. The fire behind her threats to file a noise complaint with the cops died down pretty quickly when Thomas offered her a beignet and a cup of tea, sending her on her way with a winning smile, a to-go box, and a Jefferson campaign button. (Y/N proceeded almost immediately to scold him for just giving away the fruits of her hours of labor behind a deep-fryer.)

But as the music was revoked, their animated evening of slacking off began to wind down. The only thing left for them to do was to finish the dishes, and Thomas proved to be much more helpful with this than Lafayette had been earlier in the day.

All was quiet as he washed the dishes and she proceeded to dry them, silence split only by his sporadically humming the best of the Black Eyed Peas. It was comfortable, just being together as the warm air wafted from the cooling oven not too far behind, as their hands brushed every time he passed her another plate. Her lips were pursed in a feeble effort to hide how endeared she was every time she glanced to him, his sleeves soaked past the elbow while he remained unbothered. If he noticed, he didn't mention. Finally--

"How are you so good with people?"

"Hm?" He turned his head toward her with a raised eyebrow, and she had to ignore the flecks of foamed soap that clung to his curls and his shirt. Y/N shrugged.

"I just mean..." Her smile was shy; she didn't meet his eyes. "I don't get how you do it. Mira absolutely dotes on you; you've befriended half of our staff after one night here. You just talked to my crankiest neighbor for literally all of five minutes, and suddenly, she's part of your voting bloc."

He just watched her for a moment. His stare was soft. "Can't help it if people find me irresistible."

Her loud, disbelieving scoff made him grin, but she looked far from annoyed. "That's your secret? You were just born with it? It isn't Maybelline?"

Though he laughed quietly, when she turned to him with her eyebrows raised, he shrugged. Her question seemed to be in earnest. "I dunno, sweetheart. Don't think it's anything special. People seem just as drawn to you, anyway."

"Sure, 'cause I have a nice ass, and I'm wearing tight jeans. Not the same thing." How frankly she spoke made him grin, and he shot her a wink, passing off another bowl to her.

"Can't argue with that." She rolled her eyes as she began drying the next dish. He bumped his elbow lightly against hers, gaze teasing yet soft. "But you know that's not what I meant."

She sighed. "Alright, fine, but I'm not forty-points-ahead-in-the-polls charismatic. I just... can't figure out what it is about you that people seem so drawn to."

As she concluded moments later, the uninvited smile she wore when he flashed her a warm grin could've contributed to the reason. She turned back to the plates before her, feeling her skin warm under his heavy gaze. "So you're tellin' me people don't follow me strictly 'cause of my political framework and field experience?"

"Oh, I'm sure every one of your supporters has invested hours into reading the 174-page pdf of fiscal policy your campaign published." Another stack of cups went into the cupboard below her.

"People really don't care about how taxin' it was for me to write all that? And here I was, thinkin' every American voter was out there doin' their homework." He looked with disappointment down at the salad plate he was scrubbing at present, but Y/N wasn't buying it.

"Thomas," she groaned as she turned to meet his phony pout, her stare flat. Her mild annoyance only served to amuse him further, and though she scowled when he laughed, he leaned over to gently kiss the crown of her head. She could feel herself flush despite how chaste it was; the casual affection left her more thrown than if he'd tried to rail her in the middle of the kitchen.

"'M only kiddin'," he defended, voice heavy with mirth, making her roll her eyes.

"Aren't you always?" she asked, wiping off the inside of a cup.

"'Course not." He frowned, and she deadpanned as she turned to him, arms folded.

"I'm not sure we've had a serious conversation since I met you."

"Now, that's just not true."

"Isn't it?" He put down the saucepan he was rinsing out to turn to her, matching her demeanor.

"It isn't. I know I tease, but I've never been anythin' but one-hundred percent authentic with you, Y/N."

A moment passed where neither said anything. The corners of Y/N's lips quirked at how sincere he sounded as he waited for her to react. Finally, she turned back to the dishes before her with a tight-lipped smile.

"Maybe this is what it is."

"Hm?"

"Why people like you. This whole endearingly earnest act you've got going on. I could see that being pretty appealing to voters."

"Hey, what d'you mean act?" He bumped his shoulders into hers, offense written across his face, and she laughed.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I mean. Traipsing around from state to state like some type of charismatic golden boy. Making everyone feel all special and appreciated. It's a good tactic; don't get me wrong." She shrugged as she shelved the last stack of bowls. Just a few more things to wash, and they could officially consider the diner spotless. She didn't think much of her own words, but he hung onto them. It was inexplicable as to why he took so much pride in her all but admitting he made her feel special.

"My bein' all kind-hearted and charmin' isn't some scheme," he said after a moment, plastering on a scowl, and she raised an eyebrow as he passed her a fork. For a brief moment, she was worried she'd crossed a line, but when his eyes met hers, his gaze was playful. "'M just a nice person. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Her mouth fell open in surprise, indignant but hardly disguising her smile, and she let out a huff. "I was joking, you asshole!" When he only snickered, she pursed her lips, shoving him away from her with the little comparative strength she had.

"Hey, now!" His reprimanding had very little bite to it with the laugh carried in his voice as he stumbled a step to his right, tugging the faucet head along with him. He scowled at Y/N's self-pleased smile, flicking his wrist to turn the spray of water from the sink onto her.

She yelped, jumped back from it, but he'd already managed to drench the front of her shirt. She wore an expression of disbelief as she paused a moment, watching him return to the dishes as if nothing had happened despite his entertained grin. It was then that she struck back, lunging toward the sink to retaliate, and he wasn't quite quick enough to stop her.

He could only do damage control once she'd already managed to spray a line of water across his chest, and she gasped when he pushed her back to her part of the counter.

"You're more trouble than I was expectin'," he laughed, and she folded her arms.

"You're no walk in the park yourself."

"But you're the one who decided to let me stick around, sweetheart," he retorted, giving her a pointed look, and she shrugged good-naturedly.

"You might be a handful, but you're worth having around once in a while."

He laughed at how matter-of-factly she spoke, and for once, she wore an unabashed grin. "Now you're just flatterin' me," he teased.

"Oh, of course, such high praise; you aren't always awful."

"Hey, that means somethin', comin' from you," he defended, prodding her in the side, and she squealed, jumping away.

"Hands off, Jefferson. I'm at work."

"Aw, 'm sorry. Didn't mean to disrespect your professional boundaries."

"Check yourself next time," Y/N scowled, but there was no heat to it. The pair caught one another's eyes, both wearing the same, gentle smile, and it seemed too soon when he broke her gaze, returning to the last couple pieces of silverware. She watched him another moment until he turned to pass her a ladle. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her gaze hadn't strayed.

She only turned back to the counter when she took the ladle from him, drying it off and sliding it back into its place in the drawer. All was quiet, and though they could both feel the chilled air of the spring night drifting in through the poorly-sealed back door, where they stood, it felt perfectly warm.

He glanced at her. "'S nice to see you like this."

The comment was offhanded; he didn't wait for a response, only returned to washing the spoons, but Y/N furrowed her brow.

"Like what?"

He turned back to her with a raised brow, mildly surprised at the curious frown she wore, and he shrugged, still wearing his faint smile. "I dunno." She didn't fill the silence, and he continued, "With your guard down. Always feels like you've got some kinda walls up."

She swallowed; for a split second, her gaze was absent. Ultimately, she sighed. "I guess I'm just cautious," she said quietly, and Thomas frowned at the defensive lilt that had returned to her tone.

"I get it." He reached over to finally turn off the water, and she put away the final fork he handed her. "'S not always worth lettin' people in."

His smile was tiny, barely there, but understanding, and when she met his eyes, it felt like he was seeing right through her. "It just makes it too easy to get hurt."

He nodded, eyes kind. "'M glad I make you feel like you can relax."

She hardly shrugged as he turned to her, leaning on his hand on the countertop. "Yeah." A small smile graced her lips as she eyed his expression, and she bit her lip. "I guess there are worse things, huh?"

His laugh made her nervous gaze soften. "Aw, sugar, you're too kind," he said, the mocking sarcasm in his voice balanced out by how gentle his grin was. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she said softly, and he plastered on a mock pout. "I'm not building up your ego any more, alright? I'm not sure it has any room to grow."

"I wouldn't mind you makin' me just a little bit more conceited, now."

She finally turned all the way to him, putting down the dishcloth she'd been using for drying, and despite herself, the affection in the way he was looking back down at her made her heart flutter. "If you're looking for blind adoration, you should've figured out by now that I'm not the girl for that."

"No, you really aren't, are you?" Though her words had been pointed, had come with the intention to knock him back down a peg, his low voice was far, far from contemptuous. Her eyebrows jumped when he took a step toward her, taking her chin in his hand to lift her face to his before bending down to meet her where she stood, his confident lips gentle against hers. "You're so much more than that," he murmured, not pulling away enough to even look her in the eye, their noses brushing together.

Though she hesitated, it was a moment later that Y/N took a step forward to meet him halfway, her tentative touch rising up the stiff material of his shirt and to the back of his neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist. She pushed herself up onto her toes, and their lips met once again.

The patience in his every move was new to her, inconsistent with the raw desire that usually governed his actions. When he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, her mouth parted in a soft moan, and he took the opportunity for what it was, wasting little time in pressing his tongue teasingly against hers. He was holding her close, but she was arched fully up against him regardless of it, wanting to feel the movement of his body against hers. Both her arms looped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.

The kiss was deep, intimate, but not harsh, and when his mouth moved to the skin of her neck, she tipped her head back, eyes closed with her silent sigh as his hands moved down to grip the backs of her thighs. She couldn't help her surprise at how effortless it was for him to pick her up, to lift her onto the counter she'd been standing in front of. She groaned when his lips found a particularly sensitive patch of skin, all but going limp in his grasp.

"Thomas," she whined, wrapping her legs more tightly around him to anchor his hips against hers, grinding against his hard body.

"Come home with me," he muttered into her neck, and though she gasped at the feeling of his teeth scraping against her, she pulled back to look him in the eye, raising his head to hers with a hand in his curls.

"What?" she whispered, chest heaving, and he pressed another soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

"Come home with me," he repeated, looking into her wide eyes.

"Why?" He raised his eyebrows at her hesitance, and she took a deep breath. "Thomas, I live upstairs; if you wanna stay, I... I definitely wouldn't mind that, but--"

She cut herself off at his skeptical hum, and he said, "Listen, I almost got caught tryin' to sneak outta here in the morning last Saturday, and I'm not tryna have a repeat of that, alright? Just come back to my place." One of his hands lifted from her thigh to weave itself into her hair, holding her head by her nape as he kissed her, more intently that time. "Promise I'll make it worth your while."

She swallowed. "Pull your car around the back."

---------

It was hours later that Y/N found herself lying exhausted on satin sheets, slumped in a penthouse just across the river and high above the city. Thomas hadn't been lying about making the most of her time; his hands had seldom left her skin from the moment she entered his passenger seat, dragging her quickly past the doorman on the first floor of his building, pinning her against the wall of the elevator for a heated, fleeting moment before he'd finally tugged her the rest of the way to his apartment.

She was wrapped in his covers up to her chest, feeling just on the wrong end of self-conscious, but her clothes were rumpled and sprawled across every corner of the rooms they had to pass to reach his bed. They hadn't been overly concerned with where the outfit ended up, just that it wasn't on her skin. Every joint in her body was already sore, and she groaned as she tried to sit up, leaning against his headboard as Thomas returned to her with a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said, and he couldn't help but grin at how hoarse she sounded as he handed her the cup.

"'Course, sweetheart." He came to sit beside her as he pressed a kiss to her temple, and she took a long sip of the water, nearly draining all of it in one gulp. "You alright? Everything still feeling okay?"

"I'm exhausted, and my ass hurts like a bitch," she griped, but when he raised an eyebrow, she nodded. "But I'm all good. Might have to bill you for the truckload of concealer I'll need to cover up all these fucking marks, but I'm fine."

"Good." He squeezed her thigh lightly when she leaned against his side, her legs bent and knees pulled in toward her chest. When she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against himself with a small smile.

"Can't believe I didn't know you live in the same building as Lafayette, though," she mumbled, and he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, he actually lives just across the hall. When he came back from France lookin' for a place to live, I thought it'd be fun if we were neighbors, and he took me up on it pretty easily."

She hummed her acknowledgment. "So that means, when Lafayette showed up half an hour late to your lunch date and I was there instead, that it would've taken you all of five seconds just to go home?"

He laughed. "Now, what exactly are you accusin' me of?"

"Being a pain in my ass two weeks ago," she grumbled, and he shrugged, wearing a small, self-contented smile and not bothering to argue with her.

"You didn't seem to mind me bein' a pain in your ass last night." He raised a smug eyebrow, and she scowled, turning her head to break the eye contact. She disregarded the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks.

"You say 'last night' as though we didn't get back here less than four hours ago."

"Don't pretend you don't get the picture."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked when he kissed the top of her hair. She looked down at the cup she held against her chest. "Is it cool if I stay over?"

"'Course. I don't want you gettin' in an Uber with some creep in the middle of the city at this time of night."

"Mm, but you had no problem with me getting in a Bentley with some creep in the middle of the city four hours ago?"

Despite the teasing bite to her words, he grinned. "Hey, now, I'm just sayin' you gotta be selective about which creeps you're lettin' drive you around at all hours."

"I mean, you haven't killed me yet, so I'd call that a point in your favor." She yawned, reaching over to put the glass he'd given her on his bedside table. "We should get some sleep. It's late, and I'm sure you have somewhere to be tomorrow."

"Alright, sweetheart." She pushed herself forward from the headboard, laying back onto the pillow she'd been leaning on, holding it close to her head as he reached over to turn off the lamplight before joining her under the covers. "G'night."

"Night, T."

They fell asleep almost immediately in one another's arms.

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

5:17 AM

From: [email protected]

Y/N--

I’m glad you reached out. Your writing’s excellent as always, but if there’s information you want, you’ve very much come to the right place. I’ve worked with Thomas for years, and though they left me dismayed, I’ve become quite familiar with the not-so-shining moments in his background.

I’d rather not put anything in writing should someone find this communication. Let’s find a somewhat private place to meet. Be sure to bring a recorder and a notepad. Believe me when I say you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.

John Adams

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