School is kicking my ass, heres that one strawberry question cheating test tiktok thing with y/n and thomas + cute little drabble at the end ( ˘ ³˘)❤ Separate from current stage of storyline ofc

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Jeffersnot: Sweetheart

You: Hell o

Jeffersnot: So here's a question for you

You: bro is the troll under the bridge

You: you must answer these riddles three

Jeffersnot: STOP

Jeffersnot: LET ME HAVE THIS

Jeffersnot: say you were hungry and you were walking past a field of strawberries

Jeffersnot: woukd u eat any

You: you're drunk arent u

Jeffersnot: maybee a little bit

Jeffersnot: answer the question

You: how hungry am i

Jeffersnot: fucking starving idk

You: if im actually starving im eating whatever i can get my fuckin hands on yk how life used to be

You: fuck the strawberries id eat the grass or something

Jeffersnot: ok damn 💀 not enough to die but rlly hungry still

You: wild strawberries ?

Jeffersnot: does it matter

You: fucking yeah if they're wild at most id eat one bc theyre probably sour as fuck and covered in bugs

Jeffersnot: they're maintained

You: then they're not wild bitch

Jeffersnot: FINE

Jeffersnot: not wild someone owns them

You: industrial farm or personal ?

Jeffersnot: either

You: industrial probably no bc that shit is covered in pesticides

You: then again

You: im not super familiar w the ethics of industrial grade farms/orchards and stuff

You: so if they're anytring like any other big company im going fucking ham

Jeffersnot: what if there was a fence

You: scaling that mf

You: I wouldn't just eat a good amount if it was industrial id eat until i shit and then keep eatint

You: i want them to lose money not just for the exploited slave wage workers to get blamed

Jeffersnot: arent they machine harvested nowadays

You: fuck if i know do i look like a farmer

You: arent those machines operated by ppl

Jeffersnot: prob

Jeffersnot: stop dodging the question

You: IM NOT DODGING THE QUESTION IM SCOPING OUT THW SITUATION

Jeffersnot: so you'd cheat on me with an infinite amount of people if it meant going against big corps

You: what

Jeffersnot: That hurts im committed to you 💔💔

You: ok well i want you to be committed to finding a better metaphor this one sucks balls

Jeffersnot: FINE IK ITS BAD THEY TOLD ME TO DO THIS

Jeffersnot: they're fuckingf laughing at me nown look what youve done

You: YOU ASKED FIRST BITCH

You: take care of yourself and dont go along w whatever those fools say

You: are u a leader or a follower step it up

Jeffersnot: Maria told me to do this

You: oh nvm be a follower

Jeffersnot: STOP

Jeffersnot: u trust her more than me

You: i trust her with you morebthan you yourself

Jeffersnot: why

Jeffersnot: she doesnt like me THAT much

You: oh no but she likes me

You: so she'd keep you safe out of consideration

Jeffersnot: aww she knows how important i am to yoy

You: itd be an expensive loss

You: its like homeowners insurance

Jeffersnot: aw are u calling me your home ❤️

You: im gojna call the renovators

Jeffersnot: ouch 💔💔💔💔

You: why r u texting me youre at a function

Jeffersnot: too much to drink maria masd me sit down

You: see

You: go have fun bye bye

Jeffersnot: theyr flaming me for being in love

Jeffersnot: ig ill go on with my night knowing my beloved gf would cheat on me infinitely for the sake of workers rights 💔

You: Vive la revolution ✊✊

-

"What's botherin' ya?"

You hum simply, sat at the edge of the bed, and Thomas shifts under the covers, warm hand moving to cover yours. It seemed like he always had to be touching you in some way. In the public eye, it was gallantly guiding you along a path with a palm on the small of your back, an arm around your waist at any opportunity you had to walk side by side. In private the theatrics were by no means shed— it was Thomas, after all—but the contact took on a new tone.

Touches became softer, slower, more lingering, almost unlike him- as were the nature of his affections. Slow, soft, people used no such words to describe Thomas Jefferson, but no such people bore witness to the way he looked at you in the blanket of the night, the way he sought your confirmation and approval even whilst exhausted.

A gentle chuckle bubbles past your lips when he grumbles and wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting himself closer. The sound and your warmth make his head spin, but he fights valiantly regardless, blinking droopy eyes with admirable stubbornness.

"Tell me," he mutters, and you huff slightly.

"Nothing. Just..."

"Just?" His head lolls onto your lap.

The curtains are drawn, yet the stars lay right before you, worn yet attentive, shining through soft, stray curls. They close softly as you brush inky hair aside to kiss his forehead. You think you can't possibly express just how much you love him, just how much his very presence embalms you, just how ardently you wanted him remain with you forever.

You draw back to watch the stars bloom again. They follow your lips as they part to speak.

"Say you were hungry, and you walked past a field of strawberries-"

Thomas groans loudly. "I hate you!"

You laugh aloud this time, brief and mellifluous, and he's smitten.

A rustle and light piercing through his eyelids throw him from the grasp of sleep again, causing him to blink and mutter.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you its rude to go on your phone on a date?"

"It's not a date just because we're together."

"Yes, it is."

Thomas buries his head further into your lap dreamily as your fingers card absently through his hair, attention fixated on your screen.

"What're ya doin'?"

"Hold on. Hot weather, at the top, extrovert," your murmuring lips come to a stop. "Okay, what's your ideal first date?"

"What's this for?"

"Answer the question!"

"Okay," he yawns, and takes a brief moment to think. "Well, writing a letter to my hot date and meeting her at the coffee shop and almost choking to death was pretty nice." He props himself up onto his elbow as you huff out a laugh.

"What's the most important thing for you in a romantic partner?"

"They have to be you," comes his immediate answer, and the corner of your lip twitches almost bashfully. Thomas revels in the sight, the fluorescent light kissing your features.

"Not an option."

"Well what is an option?"

"Humour, creativity and being interesting, having chemistry, and decent income."

He tugs at his lip absentmindedly. "Well you're not a fuckin' jester, interesting is nice, but that's like... a basic person requirement. So, chemistry. And I don't give a shit about income."

"Well, clearly."

Your partner grins, leaning back. "Ya know I'm a breadwinner, sweetheart."

"Trust fund," you mutter. "Okay, pick a fruit. And I don't mean our friends."

"Jesus," he snickers, "uh... apples."

"Not here."

"Well what IS-"

"Oranges, raspberries, passionfruit, strawberries!"

Another moment of silence befalls the room as he ponders his answer. "Raspberries, I guess."

"Terrible choice man, they taste like spaghetti sauce. Anyways," you continue, containing a giggle as his jaw drops in dramatic offense in your peripheral. "Worst fruit out of pears, apricots, honeydew, and grapefruit."

"Grapefruit," Thomas replies immediately. His lips part to once again ask about the questionnaire before you turn your phone to him.

"You're a mango."

He squints at the screen. "You woke me up to take a BUZZFEED fruit quiz."

"It was important."

He groans and flops back into you, turning off the device with a click and tossing it to the side. You embrace him in your amusement, graciously allowing him a moment of reprieve, and allowing yourself to adjust to your new very warm, very heavy blanket. When you speak again, your voice is low.

"I wouldn't eat the strawberries, you know."

"Hm?"

"I wouldn't eat the strawberries." A hint of a smile ghosts your lips. "I prefer a mango."

A pause. From where Thomas is splayed out on top of you, his chest shakes with laughter. He raises his head just enough to meet your even gaze.

"What," you pan, and even in the darkness, you can see the smug, teasing smirk adorning his face.

"You did all that to tell me you wouldn't cheat?"

"I like to make clear where my loyalties lie."

"Can't believe you're still on that."

"I'm just making sure you're not!"

Thomas's attention darts back to your face.

"I wouldn't eat any of the strawberries." A silent question hangs behind: you know that, right? Though his visage is still one of amusement at your matter-of-fact delivery, his eyes soften on yours and he shifts his weight, bringing one hand up to thumb your cheek.

"You said it yourself that it's a dumb metaphor, doll. But I know. And I wouldn't eat any either."

"Good," you reply, and he scoffs lightly. In the faint wisps of moonlight, Thomas swears he can see your tactfully neutral expression melt. His heart swells painfully in his chest and he pulls you closer as you murmur the short, saccharine words he fed and lived off of.

"I love you." They emerge almost shyly, and he grins. "I know." Your retort is cut off when he tilts your chin upwards, searching your eyes for silent permission. You respond by kissing him, short and tender, before pinching his cheek and pulling away.

As his mind finally dissolves into a blissful sleep, you repeat those two words in your mind. "I know."

Perhaps you don't need to know exactly how to tell him just how much you love him. Perhaps he loves you the same, and perhaps he just knows. 

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I SWEAR ILL HAVE CHAPTERS OF THE ACTUAL STORY OUT SOON 😔😔