Your Skibidi.

When are you gonna do a night to remember? I love that fic😭😭

It was on my mind this week but I want to get another chapter of high and dry out before I work on anything for ANTR 🫶 and tysm that means a lot💕

oh em gee it’s Friday, HOW WAS UR AP TESTED YO

actually really good, I think I got a 5 but I’ll update y’all when scores come out 😝

Hey, roomie! Ch. 1

Thomas j. x reader

Modern au!

In which you room with the most insufferable, arrogant man crafted by the devil himself send to personally annoy you.

warnings: swearing, some sexual references, bad writing tbh (not proofread)

word count: 2.7k

Chat this is my first time using tumblr pls be nice idk what I’m doing

“This has to be a joke, right?” Are the first words that come out of your mouth the moment you lay eyes on your new roommate: Thomas Jefferson.

You despised him all throughout college. He was the biggest manwhore on campus, not to mention infuriatingly smart. You’d know because he used to be your lab partner. That’s how you became familiar with him and his affairs with the girls in your class. After meeting him for the first time, his name just became more and more common.

Rumors of how he slept his entire way around campus, flirted with any and every girl in sight circled around. In fact, the first day of class in freshman year, he strutted his way over as if he owned the place before slipping into the chair next to you, giving you a charming smile. It didn’t fool you.

“No jokin’ round here, sweetheart,” his southern drawl seeped through his words as he opened the door wider for you to enter.

You pushed past him with a glare. “Which room is mine?” You grumbled.

He blinked, a wide grin spreading his face. “Right this way. Unless you wanna sleep with me?” He offers with a sickening laugh. You grimace, nose scrunching in disgust.

“No, thanks. It’s enough that I have to live with you, I think I’d drown myself if we had to share a bed.”

“Your loss.” He shrugged, opening the door to what will be your cave for the next…however long. If only you had enough money to move out and find a different roommate—but alas, you already finalized the papers before doing any research as to whom you would be spending your days with.

What a foolish mistake.

With that, he leaves you to get all settled in. He offered a helping hand, which you shot down with an I don’t need your help and trudged boxes up four flights of stairs since the stupid elevator was broken down.

He watched with amusement when you staggered in, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead after the fifth box.

“You sure you got it?” He shifted on the couch, remote in his hand.

“Positive.” You heaved the heaviest and final box into your room, taking a deep breath before getting items unpacked. After a few hours of getting set up and picturing what your life will entail, you finally finished. Your bookshelf was stocked with all your favorites, your walls were covered in posters and pictures were strung on your bulletin board. The room was small, but you turned it from an asylum to a cozy Pinterest vision board in a matter of hours.

You admired your work, flopping on your bed and letting the stress melt away from your back. The peace you felt was soon swept away when a few knocks sounded your door.

“What?” You groaned, and the door creaked open. Thomas popped his head in.

“I got takeout if you’re hungry. Nice room, by the way,” he comments, eyes wandering around the room before he shuts the door.

—

“So, did you seriously not look into who you’d be rooming with?” Thomas asks, shoveling fried rice into his mouth. You shrug, taking a large bite of lo mein.

“I didn’t think I would room with anyone I knew. Especially not you.”

“You seem upset. I’m happy we’re roommates. Are you not?” He flutters his eyelashes, to which you scoff at.

“What do you think?” You snap, poking your fork at some chicken. There’s no way he’s genuinely looking forward to the next few months, possibly years, of hell.

“I dunno, I’d be thrilled to live with me. I think I’m great,” he flashes his pearly whites. Your eyes were getting tired of how many death glares you’ve sent him in one day.

“Congratulations on being the only person to think that,” you give a faux smile before stuffing more noodles into your mouth.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m not that bad. You don’t even know me!” He pouts, giving you puppy dog eyes. A loud, airy laugh escapes you.

“After enduring your shitty attempts at flirting in freshman year? I think I know what type of person you are plenty.” A sharp grin adorns your face as you focus your eyes on the food before you. He huffs, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’ve changed, okay?” He mumbles. “I can flirt a lot better now. I can score basically any woman ever.” He claims, which causes you to pause to laugh again.

“No way! Any woman in her right mind would never go out with you.”

He narrows his eyes at you, a snarl creeping on his face. “I’ve been with more women than you have. I don’t think you have much room to talk.”

“Uh, probably ‘cause I don’t like women? Let’s use our brains here,” you mock. He rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean. You haven’t been with more than what, two guys?” He finishes up the fried rice and moves to throw the styrofoam box away.

“You been keeping track or something?”

He stammers, huffing and avoiding eye contact. “Course not. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“Whatever you say, Thomas.” You finish up your food as well and throw out the box, crossing your arms as you move back to your room. He sighs behind you, retreating to his room as well and leaving you to your own thoughts.

He was right about you not being with very many men, and that fact hurts. You’re 25 and still single. To be fair, he is too, but he still does get numerous women in his bed at night, and that’s just straight up unfair. It’s not like you weren’t trying to get a boyfriend, either. A goal you have is to settle down with the man you’d deem ‘the one’ and buy a house in a small town, have a couple kids and maybe a dog. The perfect life in your (and your parents) eyes.

The men you’ve met so far on dating apps haven’t been the dream you’re looking for. Don’t get me wrong, some of them were incredibly sweet, but not quite what you have in mind. However, you aren’t a quitter, so if you have to force yourself to find love, so be it.

—

The first two weeks living with Thomas have been as chaotic as you predicted it would be. He was just as lazy as you remember—so full of himself and cocky that he doesn’t believe he has to do real work. It infuriates you.

He officially makes the list of worst roommates in the world. He doesn’t clean up after himself, he lets his dishes pile up, he eats all the damn food, he blasts music too loud, and brings random women from bars home on Friday nights. And he isn’t particularly quiet either in the late hours of the night while you are trying to sleep. Soon after moving in, you figured out he was a night owl while you are an early bird.

It was nice to not have to see his face first thing in the morning, but every night he was banging around, watching TV or talking loudly to his friends. When you complained to him about this, he just gave you a smirk and said ‘what are you gonna do about it?’

He knew what he was doing. You knew what he was doing. You both knew it was all on purpose. So when you would stomp around in the morning while getting ready for your runs, it was payback. Although sometimes it would bite you, like that one time a girl he brought back accidentally fell asleep after they banged, so she slipped out in the early hours of the morning. Right when you were in the kitchen lacing up your running shoes. The horrified look on her face when she asked if you were Thomas’s girlfriend was priceless. After informing her that no, you are not dating Thomas, she let out a breath of relief and expressed how bad she would feel if you were, and thank god you’re not.

When you got back from your run and lifting session at around 9 am, he was finally awake and looked like he just rolled out of bed. His hair a mess and bags under his eyes as he brewed himself coffee. You told him about the incident from earlier that morning and he just laughed, stating, “don’t be jealous it’s not you. There’s always other nights for us.”

That sentence alone only added to your distaste for him.

Thomas is a natural flirt; any chance he gets he says something that makes you cringe and push him away from you. Sometimes while you cooked dinner, he would come up behind you and wrap his arms around you, holding him tightly to his chest and burying his face in your neck. Of course, you fought this back and sneered at him to get the hell off of you, to which he would laugh at and tell you to relax.

It was torture.

What’s worse is you’re so touch starved that for a millisecond it feels comforting. Then you remember whose arms are secured around your waist.

“Peggy, I don’t know how much of this I can take,” you sighed on the phone to your best friend, Peggy Schuyler. Peggy was always there for you throughout your toughest times. She’s seen you at your best and at your worst, and stuck with you despite everything. She’s loyal, and that’s one of the things you love most about her.

“It can’t be that bad. What does he do?” She says, shuffling around on the other end.

“Oh my god, he’s so inconsiderate. He rarely does his dishes, or buys groceries, and don’t even get me started on the women. It’s bad.” You complain.

“He sounds immature,” she comments.

“He is!” You say through gritted teeth.

“Y’know, Alex told me that he works with Thomas in their leadership group. Said he’s a real asshole to him. I don’t know why they hate each other so much, but Alexander probably has a good reason to. From what I’ve heard about him today…I dunno, I wouldn’t want to be near him either.” She rambles.

“He has every right to hate him. Did you know he ‘accidentally’ locked me out the other day? That asshole had such a smug look on his face when I had to ask our landlord to let me in. I didn’t mean to forget my key—it just, it slipped my mind,” you rant, growing frustrated.

That wasn’t a fun day. You had left to make a quick trip to your car and it slipped your mind to bring a key to get back in. You figured that he’d be there, but when you got up there and fumbled in your pocket before realizing you were missing the key, he didn’t respond to the pounding fist on the door. After calling and texting him multiple times to no reply, you growled and went downstairs to get the landlord to let you in. When you finally did, Thomas had just stepped out of the shower, wearing only sweatpants with his curly hair wet. Him being faced with your angry confrontation, he claimed he couldn’t hear you in the shower. You didn’t buy it.

“Are you serious? What a dick. I’m sorry, Y/n, I really hope it gets better.” She says softly, offering her condolences. You hummed boredly.

“Yeah, I doubt it will. I don’t think I could ever warm up to him.” You sigh, leaning your head back on your pillow.

“Just give it time. I’m sure you’ll open up to each other eventually.”

You grimace at the thought of becoming close with Thomas Jefferson. “Yeah but…I don’t want to associate with that asshole.” You say bluntly. She barks out an airy laugh.

“Honestly? That’s fair. But in all seriousness, everything will work out in the end. If it hasn’t worked out yet, then it’s not the end.” She casually drops this insane quote on you, rendering you speechless.

“…Thanks. Did you just come up with that on the spot?” You asked.

“Hah! No, I saw it on Pinterest. It’s a good quote, glad I got to use it,” she chuckles to herself and you smile, shaking your head softly.

“Oh! I forgot to mention, I matched with a guy on Tinder and we’re going out tomorrow night. Damn, I was so caught up in my hate for Thomas that I forgot what actually matters.”

“Really? That’s great! What’s his name?” She beams, and you grin, rambling on about Clyde, a 26-year-old from Colorado who loves dogs, has brown hair, and is super fucking hot.

After ending the call on a positive note, you’re looking forward to the next day. It had your mind racing with the possibilities of what he might be like in person. You’ve been chatting with him for a few days now, and he seemed promising. He had a good sense of humor over text which was nice and he wasn’t too clingy.

You only hope he’s what your idea of him is.

—

“Where are you goin’?” Thomas quirks an eyebrow from the living room, his legs stretched across the couch and his phone in hand. His shirt was abandoned, leaving his bare chest for the world to see. Your eyes trailed down to his defined arms and abs. You quickly snapped yourself out of it, but it didn’t go unnoticed by him. You could tell from the smirk on his face.

“I’m going on a date,” you triumphed, a beaming smile on your face as you smoothed over your outfit. He scanned your appearance, pursing his lips and nodding to himself.

“Have fun, I guess,” he formed his mouth into an awkward line. You raised an eyebrow, observing the change in his demeanor. Normally he’d say something snarky, maybe hit on you, but I guess today was different. Maybe he’s not feeling it. Or better yet, maybe he’s decided to stop completely and leave you alone.

You clipped on your earring and head out the door—deliberately double checking you had your key with you. After driving to the restaurant you agreed to meet up at, you searched the sea of faces for Clyde. Upon spotting the handsome face you’ve grown to like, your eyes lit up and you made your way over to him.

“Hey,” you said humbly, sitting down across from him. He gave you a lazy grin.

“Hi. You look beautiful,” he comments. You blush, and thus the night begins. It was going good at first, that is until the waitress came around and he waved her off rudely. Red flag number one.

Red flag number two came when he started bragging about how he broke his exes heart, talking on and on without letting you get a word in. By that point you had lost any attraction to him. It sucked because he seemed like he would be worth it, but you’ve learned to not get your hopes up too high anymore. By the time the bill came around, you split it, and he didn’t tip the waitress. Instead, he complained about how horrible the staff is since they mistook our order for someone else’s, which they fixed immediately.

Safe to say you won’t be calling him again.

“How’d your date go?” Thomas calls lousily from the couch where he still sat. You sighed, running a hand over your face.

“Bad. He turned out to be a complete dick to the waitress.” You dropped your purse onto the counter and kicked off your heels, letting out a small sigh of relief.

He winced, inhaling sharply. “Yikes. Never a good sign in a man.”

“Exactly. It’s like, if you treat them that way, you would treat me the same if I was in their position, y’know?”

He nods, putting his phone down and watching you chug a glass of water.

“He was almost as big of an asshole as you are.” You laughed teasingly. He immediately huffs and rolls his eyes.

“And here I was, thinking you were finally warming up to me.” Despite that, his lips quirk up at the edges.

“Never gonna happen.” You raise your eyebrows, giving him a toothy grin before retreating to your room. He’s in for a rude awakening if he thinks he can win you over so easily for being attractive. This will be a long few months living with him.

Ok SO I need y’all’s opinion (like the two people that will see this)

If you read my last fic, could you PLEASSEEEE give me some feedback or constructive criticism on how to improve my writing?

Like even if it’s just things you wished you saw more of (for example: longer dialogue, longer chapters, more personality for reader/characters, stronger storyline etc.) anything would help!!

If you wanna put it in the comments or dm me that would be very much appreciated 🫶

When do u think chapter 3 of high and dry is coming out? I LVOE IT SM !! NO RUSH!

THANK YOUU but erm tbh it might be a little bit I have very few ideas ☹️☹️

High and Dry | ch. 2

thomas j. x reader

Warnings: swearing, overuse of italics, title drop (shit was NOT tough at all pls don’t judge me too hard)

Wc: 2.7k

Holy moly this took longer than expected

EDIT: LESLIE ODOM JR RETURNING TO HAMILTON??? HELLO??!????

Out of everyone Thomas anticipated to be working with, you were the last on his list. He didn’t think he’d ever see you again after what happened in high school.

He had been best friends with you since birth, two peas in a pod. You did everything together: lost your first tooth, the awkward middle school phase, and the first steps into high school. Where one was, the other wasn't far behind. Near the end of junior year, he had a promising chance at a scholarship for a prestigious university. It’s not like he needed the money anyway, he was already filthy rich and took yearly trips to Paris for fun.

So it was only natural you were jealous of him. At least, that’s how he perceived it. To him, you envied his wealth and intelligence, always making snide remarks or rolling your eyes when he’d talk about being future Valedictorian. It got to a point where he snapped. He ignored you for days. And when you called him out on his chickenshit behavior, he proceeded to list out every reason why you shouldn’t be friends anymore, and ended the most valuable friendship you’ve ever had.

After breaking connections with you, rumors began to spread. There were some smaller ones, like you sleeping together, but that died down pretty quickly. Those were unimportant, everyone knew they were untrue. The biggest one is that you intentionally tried to ruin his chances at the scholarship. His then-girlfriend had told him you reported him for academic dishonesty in all of his work.

Which you didn’t, by the way. But he was convinced you did. He decided to trust someone he’d known for only a few months compared to the person he’s been attached at the hip to since diapers. It’s not like they stayed together, either. Two months later they called it quits. Something about her cheating on him with the Basketball captain. Once he successfully got half the grade turned on you, he randomly packed up and left for France—for good this time. He abandoned you in a difficult situation which you couldn’t do shit about; he left you high and dry.

It broke you.

He was supposed to be the one who helped you when times were rough, not the one who brought you down. And yet he did. He betrayed any ounce of trust you had, and you endured a year-and-a-half of whispers and stares in the hallway, lingering eyes, and petty comments.

“I can’t believe it’s him, of all people,” you groaned.

Alex gave you a sympathetic look, putting down the papers he had in his hands. You told him what happened to an extent. He would never know the full story, mostly because you’re bad at opening up and you’ve only just met him yesterday, but he was aware there was bad blood between you and Jefferson.

“He didn’t even want to be an English teacher! He wanted to be a lawyer! So why is he here?” A huff escaped your chest, built up from years of undiscussed trauma.

“I’ve been asking that for years, trust me. Waltzing in like he owns the place and stealing my friends,” he scoffed.

“God—how did I not realize… I should’ve known he would be out to get me. One final ‘fuck you’ by being my partner for the entire year.” You shook your head, a defeated slump in your shoulders.

“He doesn’t have to win this battle, y’know,” Alex hummed. You quirked an eyebrow, signaling for him to go on. “Just be petty, he hates that. He’s pretty obsessed with this one specific parking spot—the one under the tree. Where there’s the most shade,” his eye twitched, “I’d know because I parked there one time, and the whole day he was after me. The next morning, he was there 30 minutes earlier than normal.”

“Sounds like something he’d do,” you nodded. “That parking spot will be mine. I will do literally anything if it means pissing off a man.”

A devilish grin spread on Alexander’s face. “I’m so glad you hate him as much as I do, if not more. I swear, he’s been terrorizing this school for years. It’s about time he gets what’s coming!”

“I don’t even know how I’m gonna be able to talk to him every day. Let alone look at him. And why is it required for us to collaborate on lesson plans? That’s so stupid,” you grunted, rolling your eyes.

“I know, I’m not happy about it either,” he empathized with the struggle, “but it’s because you’re both Honors English teachers, and all freshmen are supposed to be learning the same thing. Prepare for state testing and whatnot.”

You grumbled under your breath about how stupid it was. For another 20 minutes or so, you went back and forth about stories regarding Jefferson. Spoiler: none of them were good. It’s like somehow your mind blanked, and you couldn’t think of a single positive experience with Thomas. Between you and Hamilton, he was a symbol of evil, something you could bond over. Was your friendship entirely fueled by hatred? No, of course not. But it was a strong part of it.

Although something about being unjust to Thomas because of the past struck you as immoral.

There was a side of you screaming to forgive and forget, but with everything going on in your life, how could you? It seemed like every relationship you had was fucked. You’d barely speak to your mother, only when the ward called, and you had basically no friends (Hamilton is still under examination.)

But there’s nothing like the taste of sweet sweet revenge, right?

—

“She’s still pissed about it, James. It’s been years, I don’t know why she hasn’t gotten over it yet,” Thomas scrunched his nose in disgust, a scowl creeping on his face as he laminated posters for James Madison’s classroom.

“That sucks, man. You talk to her today at all?” James went through the repetitive motion of cutting excess laminated paper, listening to Jefferson talk about you.

“Hell no. She won’t even look in my direction when I pass by her. If she wants to be immature—“ Thomas drew in a sharp, frustrated breath. “She can go ahead. I’m perfectly fine bein’ the bigger person.”

James coughed before nodding in agreement. “Don’t let her stop you from having a good year,” he warned. “She’ll come around eventually.”

“Yeah, well she doesn’t seem too keen on forgiveness anytime soon,” Thomas scoffed, “I don’t think she ever will.”

There was a long falter in his motions. The longer he thought about it, about you, the guiltier he felt. Despite the desperate attempts in trying to convince himself he wasn’t wrong, wasn't a bad person, he still felt immense shame when you popped in his mind. He hurt you. He knew that. But he moved to France and forced himself to forget about you. Facing you was a whole other dilemma; all it did was resurface the shrouds of guilt that haunted him in Junior year.

By the time college rolled around, the remorse had controlled itself, only manifesting in the back of his mind when he said anything fucked up. But he didn’t plan on seeing you again, no.

“You just have to give her time. Women will be dramatic, Thomas, we both know that,” James laughed a little.

Jefferson let out an uncomfortable chuckle, going back to the mundane task of helping Madison make posters. He hated the statement of you being some dramatic woman when he knew you were so much more than that. He wanted to scream at James for even suggesting that. Against every ounce of anger he felt, he missed you. He missed the adventures you’d go on, he longed for the sound of your laughter again, to see you smile because of him rather than someone else.

He missed his best friend.

And here you were, the nerdy girl who wore bulky sweatshirts, all grown up. He couldn’t deny how beautiful you matured. It wasn’t weird to think that; it was a simple observation. You’re attractive, nothing wrong with him acknowledging it. That doesn’t mean he has to automatically like you.

“I suppose,” he sighed. “She’s gettin’ all buddy-buddy with Hamilton, though. Not too excited about that. Hamilton is a shit influence.”

“True. I bet he’s gonna manipulate her into believing you’re the most horrible, evil villain ever.”

“She already does,” Thomas barked out a bitter laugh. “He doesn’t have to do anythin’.”

“But he will.” James gave him a pointed look.

Thomas’s lips quirked downwards. “Yeah. He will.”

—

The door to your classroom flung open, and a mildly pissed-off Jefferson walked in. He gripped his bag so tightly his veins strained, and the coffee he held looked like it would burst at any second.

“We have to make lesson plans for the week,” he grumbled, setting his bag down and taking out his laptop.

You quirked an eyebrow, examining his actions of pulling up a chair next to your desk. “And we have to do this together…? Right now?”

“Yes. Right now,” he said through gritted teeth. His jaw clenched as he opened his laptop.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. He was acting all pissy for no reason, and you were having a rather pleasant morning, having snagged a parking spot in the shade. You even treated yourself to an iced coffee. “What crawled up your ass?”

“Someone took my spot, that’s what crawled up my ass,” he spat.

“What, the one under the tree?” You smirked. His eyes immediately snapped to yours. A sickening grin spread further across your features, relishing in his anger from one simple action. He narrowed his eyes, scanning your appearance at how much you changed in the time not spent together.

His nostrils flared. “You must’ve gotten here early to steal that from me. Already tryin’ to piss me off, L/n?”

“Bold of you to assume I care that much about you.”

Thomas couldn’t deny the slight sting that went with your words. He stiffened, irritation bubbling in his chest. “You’re right, we both know you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“Yeah? Is that why you destroyed my reputation then left me for France?” You cocked your head to the side.

Thomas winced at the memory, hating the fact you were still stuck on it. An exhausted sigh left him, and he ran a hand over his face. He knew anything he said wouldn’t make it right. Healing is a gradual process. You both knew that. So why is it that after years of what he thought was healing, it still pained him to think about it?

“That was years ago,” he mumbled, “do you have to bring it up now?”

“Figured I might put it out there,” you shrugged, not entirely satisfied with his poor response.

Thomas pursed his lips, fixing his gaze on the screen before him. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. It would hurt less to pretend like it never happened and move on. A long, tense silence filled the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife. He slumped in his chair, an uncomfortable frown stuck on his face. “We need to be workin’, not arguing.”

You stared at him a moment longer. Was he seriously brushing this off? Was he for real about to ignore the years of pain and suffering you went through because of him?

“Whatever,” you grunted. There was no point in trying to fight him on this. You knew how stubborn and defensive he could be. “What do you normally do for your students at the beginning of the year? I can’t imagine it’s anything fun.”

He leaned back in the crappy plastic chair, rolling his eyes at your petty comment. “I go over the rules, and usually have them write about themselves from a prompt.”

A thin line formed on your lips. “You give them work on the first day? Asshole…” you grumbled.

“Fuck off, they get rowdy if we play games,” he laughed airily. For a split second, it felt good to hear the sound of his laughter again. Then you remembered why you hadn’t heard it in so long.

“Rowdy because they’re having fun,” you gave him a pointed look. “It never hurt anyone to feel joy once in a while. You should try it sometime.” A wide, teasing smirk grew on your face again.

Thomas so desperately wanted to wipe that smugness off your pretty little face. “Have you ever been told how insufferable you are?”

“Only by you, Thomas, only by you.” You batted your eyelashes in a mocking way, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hands. A flicker of amusement flashed in Thomas’s eyes, and a slow grin spread on his lips. For some odd reason, it made your stomach flutter.

“I’m just sayin’ what the rest of the world is thinking,” he teased. The familiarity of his southern accent brought a wave of nostalgia with it.

“Funny,” you scoffed.

“Awh, no more witty comments?” He tilted his head, an innocent expression on his face.

You raised your eyebrows, not amused by his antics. “You are such a dick, Jefferson. Thought I might remind you of that.” You said, tone flat with a hint of teasing.

He feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his chest. “How dare you, L/n. I am a saint.”

You rolled your eyes. Something was so familiar about the back and forth, playful banter. For a moment it felt like nothing was wrong, it felt like when he was still the first person you’d go to with good news.

“Congratulations for being the first and only person to think that.”

He bit back a chuckle, finding his eyes wandering over you rather than focused on the amount of work he needed to get done. “No need to be jealous because I’m beloved by everyone.”

“‘Beloved’ is an interesting choice,” you mumbled, pulling up some past lesson plans to reference.

“I think it’s an appropriate descriptor for me. That and dashingly handsome,” he snickered. Getting on your nerves was proving to be a success.

“Oh yes, because you’re the epitome of charisma and charm.” A mocking snarl went with your reply. Thomas seemed to be thriving at all the arguing, something that only pissed you off more. Weren’t you supposed to be working on lesson plans?

“I’m glad you finally noticed.”

You scoffed, about to tell him how you’d rather die than classify him as charming, but your phone rang, interrupting your thoughts. A sigh left your lips when you checked the caller ID. It was your mom’s psychiatric ward.

“I have to take this,” you muttered, standing and walking to the hallway for privacy.

Thomas held a concerned frown. He hadn’t seen who the caller was, but he knew it must’ve been something important. Having grown up with you, he met your bipolar mother multiple times, and he knew the troubles that went with it. He witnessed firsthand the pain she caused you, the trauma from her episodes reflecting upon you. And he was there for you throughout it all. So he wasn't at all surprised when he heard the word “mom” come out in a distressed tone.

A couple minutes later, you entered again, silently slipping into your seat. Your whole demeanor changed. What once was feisty was now solemn, as if life had been drained from you, leaving an empty shell of a human. It bothered him, but he knew the best bet was to leave you be, even as much as he wanted to ask what happened. You weren’t on those friendly terms anymore. He didn’t get to comfort you or know anything happening in your life.

Besides, one of the last things you said to him when you split up was “I hope you have a great, successful life, and I hope I never have to hear anything about it.”

The silence was deafening.

It was always, always silent in your life.

The silence that came after hearing Thomas talk shit about you for the first time. The silence that came after not getting to explain your side in an argument. The silence of no one understanding what you’re going through, and the one person you had decided his life would be better without you in it. And what could you do other than play along? Put on a facade of rivalry, go-with-the-flow mentality and tough it out?

The silence was killing you. It would’ve been better if he said something. Anything. Even if it meant aggravating you.

And yet he sat there, motionless, wordless, silent; leaving you wondering what he was thinking.

K so y’all might be a little upset with me but I am rewriting High and Dry

The original was very poorly planned and I literally could not write any scenes because I had nothing.

So I’m gonna rewrite it to almost the same prompt, but altered to better fit a story

Thank you for your support🫶🫶

Hey, roomie! Final ch

thomas. j x reader

Warnings: mentions of sex (no graphic descriptions), way too much crying, yea

Crying, way too much crying, and finally it stops.

Wc: 4.5k

Notes: I love incorporating South Park into unrelated fandoms

You couldn’t stop the tears. You couldn’t stop the hurt. All you could do was rush to the car and cry your little heart out, and maybe that’s all you wanted to do right now.

Everything was confusing and blurred, and you weren’t sure where to go or what to do. The sight of him shirtless with some woman he probably doesn’t even know the name of on top of him, kissing him and rubbing his chest disgusted you.

It should’ve been you.

You shuddered from the cold, blasting the heater and putting on the most angst-heart-just-broken song you could. Exit Music (For A Film) started, and you waited for the sobbing to die down so you would be in a good condition to drive.

God, of course this happened. Of course he didn’t actually care about you, of course he would go find someone to sleep with the moment you left. And to think you had something with him. To think that if you played nice for one fucking day he would realize how hopelessly in love he was with you.

It just wasn’t fair.

Your naivety and false sense of hope got the better of you. Every memory, every little detail came rushing back. Everything that made you feel special, all the butterflies and warmth that filled your stomach when with Thomas Jefferson.

The first time he offered you some advice, because he was genuinely concerned for you and wanted you the best. While at the park when he was so patient with you, and when he paid for your food. He rambled on and on about the things he loved because he felt comfortable around you. After he texted you when he hurt himself by picking up glass with his bare hands, you wrapped them up and the way he was staring at you so intensely sent shivers down your spine. The time when his friends came over and revealed he thinks you’re smart. He taught you how to dance and you had a moment in the kitchen. Was none of that enough to make him fall?

What about when he confided in you, and only you, about his mom? He cried into your shoulder while you held him, comforting him, whispering sweet reassuring thoughts while he broke down. When he informed you with tear-stricken cheeks that she was getting better.

Did that other woman do that for him? No, she didn’t, and she never will because the women he brings home are one-night-stands and will never have the true connection that you have with him. They’ll never understand why he loves macaroni and cheese so much or magenta, or why he only drinks black coffee, or why he’s so into philosophy and agriculture. They won’t ever know the genius he is; he’s fluent in French from the times you’ve overheard him on the phone with Lafayette.

And if he called them sweetheart, or darlin’, or sugar, it wouldn’t be the same.

It wouldn’t have the same southern ring that it had when he called you it. It just wouldn’t be parallel or even comparable. It would be meaningless.

It made you want to rip your skin off and crawl into a hole and just lay there, letting rain or snow or even hail overtake you. In all your years of living, you’ve never been this distraught about a man.

You’ve always been independent, self-assured and strong, and anytime life knocks you down you get back up and shove your middle finger right in adversity’s face.

But here you sat, hands on the steering wheel and driving with no goal in mind. No idea of what to do next or how to even deal with your emotions while Radiohead played behind all your sniffling. You were tired and cold and sad and you really needed a friend.

You needed Peggy.

—

Peggy swung the door open, first a bitterness in her eyes before they turned soft when they saw your broken state.

“Can I come in?” You croaked.

“Of course,” she sighed, “what happened?”

“Thomas. Thomas happened.” That was all you managed to get out before you broke into tears again. Why did it hurt so bad?

“C’mere,” she murmured, holding her arms out and engulfing you in a hug. It was everything you needed and more. The weight of being alone was finally lifted off your shoulders. You felt like you could breathe again.

“I’m sorry.” You cried out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” She gently rocked you back and forth, one hand at the back of your head while the other was wrapped securely around your back. You stayed like that for a good long minute. “‘M not mad at you.”

You stayed in her embrace until the crying stopped, and you were back to sniffling. She wiped stray tears from your cheeks after you pulled apart, leading you to the yellow couch to sit.

“Now, tell me what happened.”

You immediately ranted about your plan and how you told Samuel you were in love with Thomas, how well he took the news, and recalling how excited you felt at confessing. Then you got to the part where he was on the couch with another woman. A woman who was only in her red lacy bra and matching underwear, because of course Thomas would scope out a woman who wears a matching set.

“So you’ve finally figured it out, then?” She asked, which confused you and made you pause.

“Figure out what?”

She replied, “That you like him.”

“Oh. I guess so. Is that what you told me to figure out myself?”

A guilty smile spreads on her face. “Yeah. I know it’s kind of shitty of me, but I was tired of hearing about him with no action from you. Thought it would be best if you came to the realization yourself then banged it out with him, but I guess that part hasn’t happened yet, has it?”

Her use of the word yet made you blush, and you wiped your nose, looking down at the wooden flooring. “I suppose it hasn’t.” You uttered.

She barked out a laugh at that, patting your back. You cracked a smile, the kind where you’ve been crying and frowning so long that it was a huge relief to feel any ounce of happiness.

“But I can’t help but feel like I was an idiot for thinking he liked me back. I was so ready to go in there and tell him everything, then…” you trailed off. You didn’t need to say the rest.

She frowned, “Y/n, he does like you. As much as I hate his guts right now, you will have to face him again eventually. I think you should stay over tonight.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced, “If you’re offering. Brownie batter party? I really need something to take my mind off him for a while.”

A wide grin spreads on her face. “Nothing like salmonella and binge-watching South Park.”

The first brownie batter party you had was when her and Steph broke up for the first time. It didn’t last long, only about a week, but she cried so hard that night that you came up with the silliest ideas to comfort her. Thus, eating brownie batter and watching a show together was born. That show turned into South Park since it was so easy to laugh at and forget your worries.

Before you started, she offered you a change of clothes since you were still in a tight dress that grew more and more uncomfortable. Now equipped with red plaid pajamas and a baggy t-shirt that said “I paused my game to be here,” the real fun could begin.

The batter got made, you both grabbed copious amounts of it and put it in your own little bowls before popping the rest in the oven for later. If desperate enough, you could get through an entire tray of brownies in one night, and the way things were going, it would be one of those nights.

You had gotten through three episodes in season nine. The one where Butters sneaks into the girls’ slumber party as Marjorine, the egg one, and the one where Cartman tries to kill all gingers.

Whatever troubled you was gone the moment the intro started and you took your first bite of brownie batter. Until it was back when your phone buzzed. You groaned, pulling it out to check your notifications.

It was Thomas.

Shit.

“Thomas is texting me,” you mutter. Peggy raised an eyebrow and paused the show.

“What’s he want?” She leaned over your shoulder to peer at your phone, staring at the text you had pulled up.

Thomas: can we talk?

Thomas: I’m really sorry you had to see that

You left him on read, biting the inside of your cheek.

—

Thomas cursed after you left the apartment. The girl on his lap had crawled off, and the alcohol in both their systems only worsened the situation. He tried calling out for you, but you only muttered how you’re sorry for intruding, then walked out.

He pulled at his hair in distress, swearing to himself. He should’ve been more careful. He shouldn’t have had that girl over in the first place, but he assumed you would be gone longer and he really needed a distraction.

He had facts to face, after all.

You were with another man. Happy with Samuel, ready to impress him and kiss him when it should be Thomas you’re with.

He’s a fool for thinking that you liked him after all the gifts. After the way he’s seen you stare at him, your gaze lingering a little too long on his biceps to still be considered friendly. It didn’t make sense how you’d still continue pursuing a different guy after everything you’ve been through. After the kiss, after sharing secrets, after dancing and laughing and fighting then making up.

He should’ve known better.

Thomas figured that what the hell, he had nothing to lose since you were already gone. So he went out the moment Samuel’s car sped off, and he walked to the nearest bar. Nothing like turning to the bottle when life gets you down, right?

The pretty woman on his lap (who he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of) was eyeing him the moment he walked in. He’s not blind, so he walked up to her and introduced himself. It wasn’t long before she was on the way to his apartment, feverishly kissing him any chance she got.

It wasn’t the same as when you did, though. He couldn’t shake that feeling. All of while she was with him, he was wishing, imagining it was you.

“You should go,” he growled. The woman huffed.

“I don’t have a ride.” She stood, pulling her shirt over her head.

“I’ll give you money for an Uber. Please, just leave,” he urged as kindly as he could in that moment. She rolled her eyes, mumbling something about him being a buzzkill and to not waste a lady’s time like that. He ignored it and handed her a twenty and a five.

She took it without hesitation and left shortly after, leaving Thomas to collect his thoughts. He knew he needed to make it right. He wished he could tell you how he really felt, but if you were content with Samuel, he was willing to let you go and be happy.

“Lafayette, I fucked up,” Thomas paced around the apartment, cleaning frantically.

“‘Ow so?”

He picked up the clothes scattered about. “With Y/n.”

Lafayette heaved a sigh, ready to listen to whatever new dilemma was bothering his friends. “What happened this time?”

“I know, I know you’re tired of it but—Lafayette, she saw me with another woman.”

“Merde, c'est vraiment mauvais,” Lafayette blurted, eyes going wide although Thomas couldn’t see it. “‘Ow did that happen?”

“I fucking know it’s bad!” Thomas seethed. “Sorry. But she left on a date with some jackass named Samuel, and I was jealous and needed a distraction, so I found one.”

“That is horrible, mon ami,” Lafayette critiqued.

“I know,” Thomas groaned, then covered his face with his hands. “But I thought surely she was into me. Is she not? I’m so fucking confused.”

“She is, don’t worry,” he reassured. “I’m pretty sure she was going to reject him. That’s what Peggy told me.”

“Fuck, are you serious? You’re saying this after I screwed everythin’ up? I thought she was head over heels for someone other than me!”

“I didn’t want to spoil ze surprise for you!”

Thomas huffed again, putting his hands on his hips. He couldn’t argue with that. Lafayette was just trying to look out for the both of them and let their romance blossom naturally. He truly didn’t want to get in the way of that.

“Okay. Okay, but what am I supposed to do now? She ran out and I don’t know where she is.” Thomas voiced his concern, pacing around the living room. His eyes met the empty container of cookie dough ice cream you bought for him.

“Well, you’re just going to ‘ave to talk to her, ami,” he replied.

“No shit. What do I say to her?” He growled.

“First you need to calm down,” Laf started, “then just tell her how you feel. Be honest.”

Thomas sighed. It seemed like the most obvious advice in the world, but he’d take his friend’s words in and hold them dear to his heart. Lafayette was the most support he’s had other than James, who he would rant to, but only Lafayette knew you on a personal level as well.

He also knew Lafayette doesn’t have all the answers to his problems. He has to man up and face it himself; communicate with you everything he’s been wanting to say the moment you moved in. So he thanked Lafayette and hung up, fidgeting with his hands.

He knew he needed to talk to you. Hell, that’s all he’s been wanting to do, but you just keep running away. He tried to calm down the best he could, taking deep breaths in and doing some push-ups to burn the pent up energy.

After that, he pulled out his phone, clicking on your pinned contact.

—

“You need to not think about him. Turn off your phone, and let's just enjoy South Park and brownies,” Peggy said, taking your phone from your hand. You let her with little repercussions.

“Alright,” you frowned, eating another spoonful of sugar, oil, and E. coli. It didn’t help. Even while Cartman was singing “hand in hand we can live together, ginger or not we’re all the same,” your mind was still plagued with Thomas.

He was all you could think about.

Especially after knowing he’s thinking about you, too.

And that fact both thrilled and terrified you, because you wanted him to be thinking of you. You wanted him to lie awake that night, unable to think because the vision of you kept popping up. Because that’s what was happening to you, and you wanted him to go through it too.

Peggy sighed, and you noticed the tv was turned off. When did it turn off?

“Are you thinking about him?” She asks.

“Yep.” You mutter without hesitation. She frowned, shaking her head and mumbling nonsense under her breath.

“Do you want to go see him?”

“Nope.” Again, zero hesitation. Although you paused in your mind, because even though the thought of facing him sent dread coursing down your spine, you had to reconsider your response.

Did you really not want to see him, or did you just not want to face the facts?

The fact that he doesn’t want you, he never will, because he’s a player and likely won’t settle down. Not now, not ever.

“I think we should both get some rest. I’ll get you some blankets,” she says, taking her empty bowl to the sink. You finished off the last of yours and rinsed it out. Some rest probably would do you good, and lord knows you need it after all the exaggerated crying.

You moped your way over to the bathroom, taking one of the disposable toothbrushes she kept and brushing off all the sweets from your mouth. A low growl escaped you when you peered at your reflection. Your makeup was smudged horribly, mascara stained your cheeks, and your eyes were puffy and so red it could’ve been permanent.

God, you needed a refresher.

Cold water along with face wash helped your appearance, but did little in calming the storm brewing inside you.

When you walked back out, the couch was set up with sheets, pillows, and blankets covering it. You thanked Peggy with a tired smile. She truly was an angel; forgiving you so easily because you’re friends, and that’s what friends are for.

You just hoped you could face Thomas as easily as she faced you.

—

No response.

Thomas waited, and waited, and waited.

But you never replied to his text. It stressed him the fuck out, and he contemplated calling or texting until you responded, likely telling him to fuck off.

Even if you did say that, he’d be okay with it. Because he’d know you weren’t ignoring him and could acknowledge his existence. Instead, you did ignore him, and he had to sit-and-think-about-what-he’s-done.

It was torture. Excruciating, painful torture. You might as well waterboard him at this point. At least he would have the relief of knowing the bucket would empty—but with you? No. He wasn’t sure when it would end.

He didn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned until deep purple bags formed under his eyes, until he damn near ripped out chunks of his hair.

It fucking sucked. And he knew if you had this drastic of an effect on him, you were really fucking special because he’s never felt this enamored with someone.

Once he saw you that first faithful day in freshman bio, you were all he could see.

You were all he wanted to see.

—

The shower at Peggy’s apartment worked better than yours. It had better pressure, warmer water, and was way more spacious. You could extend both your arms on either side of you and have to move to touch the wall. At yours, your hands would meet the wall at half-way extension. Hell, even her towels were better.

The feeling of hot water trickling down your back soothed you. For a moment, everything felt normal. All your worries were gone the moment her coffee scented body wash hit your skin.

You wrapped the fluffy towel around you and she gave you your washed clothes back to change into.

After adorning yourself in the spare clothes you left laying around her apartment, you sucked in your teeth and headed back to yours.

Anxiety nipped away at you as you drove back. But it needed to happen. It had to. There was no other way around it; not under, not over—you had to go through.

The door clicked open and you gently pushed it, careful to make as little noise as possible.

You weren’t sure how Thomas had handled it last night. Probably not as dramatic of a reaction as you, but a small, sick part of you hoped he did. The apartment was surprisingly clean, every dish was done and it was spotless. Well, except for the almost empty coffee pot sitting in the corner.

He didn’t immediately pop out, which you thanked the lord for. Instead, it was silent, so you shuffled to your room and locked it shut.

A deep sigh escaped your lips—then you froze when you heard it. Movement from his room. Fuck. If you stayed deathly still, maybe he wouldn’t notice?

Only he did notice you, he noticed you the moment you unlocked the door because the only amount of sleep he could get was at 2am for thirty minutes. Basically, he was running on guilt and black coffee.

The movement carried itself right outside your door, then the movement was your door. Or rather, the knock sounding on it.

“Y/n?” His crackly, deep voice sounded. “Can I come in?”

You sighed, swinging your legs off the bed and opening the door for him. Oh god, he looked like shit. So much so that you blurted it out. “You look like despair.”

“I’m aware,” he grunted.

“Sorry,” you murmured, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“I’m really sorry you had to see that last night. I didn’t think you’d be home ‘til late, I thought Samuel was makin’ you happy.” He cut right to the chase. No beating around the bush with this one. For some inexplicable reason, his tone was bitter and laced with venom when he said Sam’s name.

“It didn’t really work out with him,” you stated awkwardly. Weird, your throat was suddenly dry.

“Can we pretend like it never happened? Go back to normal, back to us?” He bit his lower lip.

“Us?” You barked out a laugh. “What do you mean, us?”

His face fell. And it wasn’t just an expression that time, his hopeful smile literally dropped and the shimmer of light fell from his eyes.

“Thomas, I—I don’t even know where to start.” You sighed frustrated. “You made me feel things, Thomas, things that no one has ever made me feel before. I really thought that you…”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, waiting for you to finish. When you never did, he spoke up. “That I what?” He muttered.

“That you fucking liked me back. I was stupid for thinking it, I know. But I really hoped you did.” You inhaled sharply to fight back the closing of your throat. “Lafayette told me something the other day. Something I haven’t forgotten about, because it meant so fucking much to me and I haven’t been able to rid it from my thoughts yet.” You ranted.

“I know.” He whispered.

“What?”

“I know.” He echoed. “I know you spoke to Lafayette. I know about your plan to reject Samuel. I knew that you liked me the moment you stepped back in the apartment, looking so adorable like you normally do and holding my favorite ice cream.”

“Then why did you sleep with that woman?” Your voice was hardly above a whisper.

“I didn’t sleep with her.” He replied, taking a small step closer. “And I didn’t know about your plan then, before you ask.”

How could he tell what you’re thinking? He always knew what you were thinking. Not fair.

“I needed a distraction. I thought for sure you would get swept away by Samuel and come home with a giant grin on your face, saying how you were in love with him or somethin’. So I drank away my problems—not the best solution, I know. And look where it got me? It got me running on thirty minutes of sleep, standing in front of the girl I love, begging her to love me back.” He rambled.

You stare at him in shock, hand falling off the door handle, and jaw slacked open. This can’t be right. He didn’t just say that. There’s no way he—

“I never wanted that woman. I never wanted any of the women who I brought over, I spent each and every night wishin’ it was you. I know this will fuck up whatever we have now and possibly make living together hell, and if you want to move out I don’t blame you. But just know it’s you. It’s always been you, from the moment I first spoke to you in college, and it will always be you.”

Shit.

Now you were truly speechless. The man you loved, the one you spent every night with, just confessed his infatuation for you in complete detail. It made your stomach do flips the moment it all registered, and suddenly you felt extremely guilty.

You ignored him last night when he texted, and you were just now seeing the bags under his eyes and the mess of his hair. He really was sorry, and he really did want you.

“Wow.”

It was all you could manage. You blinked, blinked again, and opened your mouth to try and force more words out.

“I don’t even know what to say. Since college? Really?” You scrunched your nose up.

“I just poured my heart out to you, and that’s all you have to say?” He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. But the edge of his lips quirked up in that smile you’ve grown to love. You missed it. You missed him.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just—wow. Words seriously can’t describe what I’m feeling.” You started. “I guess everything would be appropriate. You make me feel every emotion possible, and it’s the best thing ever because I’ve been trying to force that with men for so long. But you, you do it so naturally. And you always have.”

A slow smirk spread on his face. “Are you implyin’ what I think you’re implyin’?” He took another step forward. You drank up the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, and the intense heat in his eyes. It made your stomach dip low, and a smile widened on your face as well.

“Would you like to find out?”

He laughed, and you felt true happiness for the first time in a while. “I would.”

His large hands dipped to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your eyes flickered to his lips and his did the same, both of you parting them and letting your eyelids flutter shut. You met in the middle in a sweet kiss filled with the pining that had been going on for months. A small breathy gasp escaped you as your arms came to rest on his chest, and he let out a guttural growl against your lips.

You pulled off of him, a smile playing on your lips. “Thomas,” you warned, feeling his hands secured tightly on your waist.

“Hm?” He hummed, drunk from the kiss. You laughed, kissing him sweetly again.

The moment slowed and time seemed to stop. It was only you and him left, holding each other and murmuring your affections between kisses.

You're skibidi (I think that's correct grammar😭😭)

YESS!! Because you’re = you are I’m so proud of you sigma!! 🥰🥰

Come back the kids miss you💔💔

BROO I don’t know what to writtteee 😭😭 anybody got ideas PLEAS