Hey, Roomie! Ch. 7

hi my dear! would you ever consider writing for john laurens? p.s all of your works are beautiful and i’ve reread them too many times ;)

Yess yes I’d write for Laurens or Phillip, idk about Alex or Hercules yet but I could def try.

Also idk when I’m gonna be out with new chapters/fics, I’ve been pretty busy so don’t expect much from me for a while. But thank you to everyone who supports 🫶💕

Baby I’m Yours

m. de lafayette x reader

Warnings: swearing and not proofread writing

REQ: (anonymous) “Can you do one when the reader has something going on with Lafayette(or you can do Thomas idrm) and one night their friend group are all hanging out and the reader walks away to get a drink or smth and ends up flirting with this guy and Laf gets jealous so he confronts you after the event and it turns into a big argument and the group notices the tension so they lock them in a room (or smth like that) so they can makeup (sorry if this doesn’t rlly make sense 😭)”

In which your best friend, the man you’ve been in love with from the start, gets jealous at a bar over you.

Wc: 4.7k

It was obvious that you and Lafayette were madly in love with each other.

Obvious to everyone but you two, that is. Whenever anyone suggested that he liked you back, you’d dismiss it as him being friendly, or having a naturally flirtatious personality. You were just best friends, you’d claim, he didn’t think of you that way.

But everyone in the friend group knew for certain that he was yours and you were his. That’s just how it is.

And it’s not like you’re denying your little crush; the girls know about it. You openly talk to the Schuyler sisters about your infatuation whenever you get the chance. When you’d say you weren’t sure if his feelings were more than friends, they’d roll their eyes and insult your sight. But he was a naturally touchy person, he was like that with everyone! It was so confusing and so thrilling at the same time.

Whenever you hung out with him (which was almost every day), he had his hands lingering somewhere on your body; whether that be holding your hand, his arm wrapped around your shoulder or waist, and sometimes even resting on your knee. He invariably kept contact with you, every single time.

And every time his fingers brushed yours, it sent a jolt of electricity through you, butterflies and hope filling your stomach as if you were a teenager in love. Your cheeks would immediately warm, and oh god if he sent that dazzling smile your way. Instant butterflies.

Your mind raced while you put on a simple black dress and heels. The dress was a little revealing, but you felt pretty so it didn’t matter. As long as you could hold yourself with confidence, and as long as you genuinely loved how you looked, that’s all that’s important. While you did your hair and makeup, you thought of Lafayette and what he’d like. Of course you knew better than to dress up for a man, and you weren’t dressing up for anybody, but you did want to look nice to impress him. Is that really so wrong?

Lafayette promised to pick you up, which made you a little panicky and rushed. A text chimed on your phone, and you picked it up to see that he was five minutes from you.

You inhaled sharply, putting in earrings and wiping off the mascara on your upper eyelid. Finally, a thin layer of gloss tinted your lips, and you were done.

He texted you saying he was here, and with a quick ‘On My Way!’ you raced out your apartment complex. He was waiting outside to walk you safely to the bar. It was a relatively short walk, only about half a mile, and he left his car in the parking garage since he knew better than to drive drunk.

His face lit up at the sight of you, a wide grin spreading across his features as he scanned you up and down.

“Qui est cette belle femme? (Who is this beautiful woman?) You look gorgeous, amour,” he said, holding out his hand for you to take. He twirled you around, giggles escaping both of you in the process.

“Thanks, you don’t look half-bad yourself.” You elbowed his side, reconnoitering his shirt that had the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest.

“That’s the best you can give me?” He scoffed. You shrugged as you interlocked fingers and started walking to the bar.

“What do you want me to say? I can’t have your ego getting too inflated.”

“Well, a ‘you look handsome too, Lafayette,’ would’ve been nice,” he grumbled.

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, “you look handsome too, Lafayette. Happy?”

He dropped the somber look on his face and grinned, nodding eagerly. You chuckled and shook your head, swinging his arm in a back-and-forth rhythm.

With Laf by your side, the fifteen minute walk felt like five. Time just seemed to fly by with him, conversation flowed naturally, and it probably helped that you had a big fat crush on him. Even the slightest squeeze of his hand made your stomach flutter and warmth shooting up to your cheeks.

When you arrived, he regrettably let go of your hand to open the door for you. You missed the comfort in his touch.

“Thank you for your chivalry,” you giggled. He rolled his eyes playfully and rested his hand on your lower back while in search of the rest of the crew.

The whole gang was there, minus Angelica and Peggy who seemed to have been running a bit late. John and Hercules had already started drinking, maybe a little too much. Alexander held back because he didn’t want to be a huge bother for Eliza, who didn’t drink alcohol.

“The lovebirds made it! Sit, sit,” John shouted, raising the glass in his hands.

You huffed, taking a seat from across them while Lafayette took one next to you. “Oh, shut it. How are you already slurring your words?”

“‘M not slurring my words,” he argued, slamming the glass unintentionally. You rolled your eyes.

“Sure you’re not, ami,” Lafayette said, his hand never leaving your back.

You ignored them as they started bickering back and forth, and turned to Eliza and Alex instead. “Hi Eliza, Alex,” you said. They smiled warmly, greeting you back immediately.

“It’s been a while. How’s being a journalist treating you?” Alex asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Oh, y’know,” you waved your hands around, “pretty mediocre. I haven’t gotten any of the good assignments since I’m the new girl, but I’ll manage.”

“Awh, that sucks. I’m sure they’ll see your talent soon enough.” Eliza reassured sweetly.

“Thanks, Liza. You look beautiful, by the way. Blue has always been your color,” you sighed, glancing down at the simple blue dress she wore. She blushed and thanked you, commenting that you look beautiful as well.

Lafayette’s hand lifted from your back, and you glanced to see why. He had run off with John and Hercules, probably to get a couple more drinks. You frowned lightly, but shifted your gaze from the handsome man to the pretty woman in front of you.

“So, when are you and Laf gonna make it official?” Alex smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. Eliza bit back a grin as well, and smacked Alex’s hand.

“I—he doesn’t—we’re not,” you huffed, cheeks flushing with heat and embarrassment. “He doesn’t see me that way.”

Both of them rolled their eyes at that. “You’re kind of stupid, you know that, right?” Alex commented. Eliza hummed in agreement.

“Wha—Eliza! Don’t agree with him!” You gasped, feigning offense. A sly smile worked its way on her lips as she shrugged innocently.

“If the shoe fits.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You little traitor.”

“How am I betraying you? It’s simple observation. He’s been drooling over you for forever, and if you’re too stupid to realize that, it’s not my fault.” She crossed her arms, and her fiancé laughed, patting her back in support.

You muttered swears under your breath. “He would’ve said something by now if that’s how he feels.”

“Be serious,” she snorted, “he literally calls you amour.”

“Yeah, and you should hear the way he talks about you on the phone. He is..wow,” Alex chimes in. You blink, deciding not to ask for any elaboration.

“…So what? He calls everyone names in French.” You defend. “Doesn’t mean shit.”

“Yeah, but only ami. Amour is specifically reserved for you.” Eliza gave you a pointed look.

You opened your mouth to counter her, but no words came out. She was right; you were the only person Lafayette called amour or chèrie. But that didn’t mean anything, right? Even if he did like you in that way, who’s to say he wants a relationship with you? You’ve liked people before but haven’t wanted to date them. Maybe that’s how it is with you.

And that thought alone scared you, because you knew you wanted something with him, and if he didn’t reciprocate those feelings, you wouldn’t know what to do.

“Well…still,” you spoke hesitantly, “if he feels that way, then I’ll wait for him to say something.”

The pair sighed and shared a look. “That’s exactly what he said to me a week ago…” Alex muttered, just barely loud enough for you to hear.

Before you could respond, a pair of arms threw themselves around your shoulders. “Y/n! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

The sound of Peggy’s voice hit your ears, and you instantly smiled, swiveling to face her. Angelica waved to you before greeting her sister in a hug.

“I missed you too, Peggy,” you giggled, hugging her back.

She gave you a toothy grin, backing up from you and taking in your appearance. “You look absolutely hot, by the way. I might have to steal you from Lafayette.” She teased.

“Peggy!” You slapped her arm playfully. The rest of the boys were making their way over, Lafayette’s eyes specifically trained on you.

“The other sisters arrived! Finally, what took y’all so long?” Laurens slurred, his Carolinian accent seeping through his words.

Lafayette moved to your side, bumping arms with you. He gave you a charming grin that you shot back, habitually leaning into his presence. You locked eyes with Eliza who gave you a knowing look, as if to say ‘told you.’

“We just got caught up in traffic,” Peggy responded.

“Liar! Admit that you took two hours to get ready,” Angelica shouted.

The group quickly dissipated into laughter and chatter. While Hercules went on about a horror story from one of his most recent clients, you couldn’t help it that you were only half-listening. Lafayette’s hand on your knee prevented you from thinking clearly—or was it the alcohol?

Whatever reason specifically was irrelevant. All you knew is that he was doing that thing with his thumb where he rubs it back and forth, and he has the audacity to act focused on the conversation. Hell, he wouldn’t even look your way! It’s like what he was doing was completely subconscious. Almost an innate response to being near you.

He must’ve noticed your absence in conversation, because he turned to you with concern etched in his eyebrows.

“You okay, mon amour?” He asked.

Fuck, there’s that stupid nickname again.

“Yeah,” you lied, “just feeling a little nauseous is all.”

He frowned, leaning down so he could whisper in your ear. “If you want to leave, it’s your call.”

“We don’t have to leave,” you swallowed thickly. Was he seriously fine with stopping his evening just to take you home? “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom and refresh myself.”

“Okay,” his frown deepens. You excuse yourself from the setting and rush to the bathroom. His eyes lingered on you a moment more before Hercules snapped him out of it.

The bathroom light was broken. It flickered on and off, on and off in a rhythm that drove you insane. You stared into your reflection, a crisis happening in your brain. You knew why he made you feel this way, that was obvious. But you didn’t know why he kept playing with your feelings the way he does. You didn’t know if you drove him as mad as he drives you, if he stays up at night wishing you were next to him.

There was a random girl applying bright red lipstick. She must’ve noticed the distressed state you were in, because she broke the silence in the air.

“Worrying about a man?”

You blinked, mostly in shock that she was talking to you, but also because she was right. She waited patiently for your response, not looking you in the eyes, but instead focused on perfecting her lip combo.

“Uhh…yeah, how’d you know?” You shifted your weight, looking at her now.

“Woman’s intuition,” she replied. “You’ve got stress written all over you. I know a situationship when I see a girl alone in a bar bathroom.”

“What about you then? You’re alone in a bathroom, too,” you countered. Who was she to make these bold assumptions?

“Right, but observe the difference in our postures. Relax, babe. Breathe. Whatever is troubling you probably isn’t worth all the worry.”

“I—you don’t know anything about my situation,” you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Tell me or don’t tell me,” she shrugged. Finally, she turned to face you. You couldn’t deny her beauty; she wore a bold red dress and the exact same shade of lipstick to complement it. Dark curls fell past her shoulders, and she held herself with such confidence that reflected onto you.

“Fine. My best friend is with me, along with the rest of our friend group, and I can’t tell if he genuinely is into me or if he’s just playing some sick game.” You confessed.

She smiled in satisfaction. “Why do you think that?”

“Because he’s always touching me but he’s never actually admitted that he likes me or anything. He also calls me ‘amour’ and I’m the only person he calls that. And just before I left to come here, he asked if I was okay, and when I said I felt sick he offered to take me home.”

“It sounds like he does care about you. I think you’re overthinking the situation, sweetheart,” she crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the wall. The light flickers more. “You should go for it. And whatever happens is meant to happen. It’s your life, you’re able to change it at any moment. Take the first step even if it seems scary.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I should probably head back now. Thank you…” you trailed off, realizing that you don’t know her name.

“Maria,” she responds.

“Thank you, Maria.” You smile, “Y/n.”

“You’re welcome, Y/n.” She smiles back, watching you walk out of the dim bathroom.

After confiding in a random lady in a bathroom bar, you felt confident and ready to change your relationship status. You were tired of pretending to not want something with Laf knowing you wanted a real connection. You wanted something deeper, something intimate with the man you called your best friend.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. You turn, coming face to face with Aaron Burr.

“Aaron? God, how long has it been?” You smile, pulling up beside him. He was alone in the corner of the bar, far enough away to where you wouldn’t have been able to recognize him from where the group was sitting.

“Since sophomore year, I reckon,” he said.

Aaron Burr was one of the first new people you met in college. At one point, you thought that the man was into you, but a while of hanging out helped you realize he actually was just friendly. And he was loyal, too. His heart was set on Theodosia, and he would deny any woman who looked at him with the slightest bit of lust.

He was a reserved, composed man. Extremely stoic, extremely put together, and very polite. Burr seemed to enjoy a quiet life, hence why he chose the farthest spot away from your rowdy group. He also knew everyone somewhat-personally, although he was left on bad terms with Alexander. A little feud involving Thomas Jefferson led to the break of their friendship.

“How are things? D’you ever tell Theodosia how you feel?” You asked, resting your chin in your hands.

He holds up his left hand, the shine of a golden band making you gasp. You grab his wrist to inspect it, admiring the glimmer of love sealed in a single ring.

“Congratulations! Holy shit, Aaron, that’s amazing!”

“Thank you. I finally got the courage to ask her out, and this is where it’s led me,” he beams a true smile. “The wedding is set for a few months from now.”

You awh and rest a hand over your chest, playing with the dainty necklace. “That’s so sweet. I’m so happy for you, Aaron. I know you and Alex aren’t on the best of terms, but do you want to join us? Share a few drinks?” You offer.

“Thanks, but no thanks. Ever since you sat down, Lafayette has been glaring at me this whole time. It looks like he’s about to murder me,” he chuckles. You whip your head around to see Lafayette.

Laf looks away the moment you turn to spy him, pretending like he didn’t just get caught staring at you.

“Ignore him. He’s just protective, he probably doesn’t realize it’s you.” You wave your hand dismissively.

Burr gave you a half-hearted shrug. “I’ll take my chances. I was actually about to head out soon anyway.”

“What? C’mon, don’t let my friend scare you off. Drink with us!” You plead, leaning forward in your stool.

“No, no, seriously. I told myself I wouldn’t stay long, and it’s getting late.” Despite your efforts to convince him to stay, he denies every offer you put forth.

“Alright,” you frown. “It was nice seeing you, Aaron. Tell Theo I said hi! And again, congrats!”

You hop off your barstool, waving goodbye to him. He walks out the back way, probably to avoid confrontation with the guard dog eyeing the entire interaction you had with the man.

When you got back to the table, everyone was immersed in their own chats, not really paying much mind to you or even noticing your arrival. You plopped next to Lafayette again, but he ignored you, taking a long swig of his drink.

“I’m back,” you chirped.

No response.

“Laf? You okay?” You put a hand on his broad shoulder, wincing when you finally notice the scowl on his face. Your hand falls off his shoulder almost instantly.

“Perfectly fine,” he grunts.

“Whoa, what happened?”

“Go ask Burr, maybe he’ll ’ave an answer,” he snaps.

Okay, problem found. He was upset because you were talking to Aaron. Your stomach dropped and you had to stop yourself from saying something nasty.

“Why are you mad? C’mon, Laf, don’t be like this,” you scoff lightly, crossing your arms.

“Don’t be like what?” He mutters, being extra careful to keep his voice low so the rest of the group wouldn’t get suspicious. When his eyes flickered to yours, they didn’t hold the same playful tint like they usually did. Instead, they were darker, filled with jealousy and bitterness. You tensed.

“Like a dick. Seriously, you’re killing the mood,” you lowered your voice as well.

His jaw clenched and the grip on his drink tightened, and he stayed silent. Scarily silent.

“Lafayette! Which is better, the edge piece of brownies or the center? Because Hercules here thinks the center is the best when it’s not,” Laurens called him over, and he shot up, moving over to them.

You stared at him in shock. Is he really mad because you were talking with Aaron Burr?

“What happened? He looks pissed,” Eliza sounded from behind you. You flinched and swiveled around, mouth slightly hung open.

“I don’t know. I think he’s upset because I was talking to an old friend,” you reply.

“Uh-huh. And does this old friend happen to be a man?” She asks, taking a seat next to you.

You bite your lower lip. “Maybe. But it’s not like that! He literally showed me his wedding ring!”

“Does he know that?” She nods to Laf. You let your gaze linger on him a little too long, gripping the edge of your dress.

“…No. He shouldn’t be mad, anyways.”

“He’s not mad, he’s jealous. If he sees another man being touchy with his girl, he’s gonna get jealous,” she said.

Her usage of the words ‘his girl’ made your stomach flutter.

“So what do I do then?” You turn back to her.

“Give him a little bit of time to cool down, then talk to him. He’ll listen to anything you say, and he’ll believe it, too. That man would walk into fire for you. If you say there was nothing between you and the old friend, then there was nothing between you and the old friend.” She replies. “Who was it, anyway?”

“Burr,” you whisper. She nods, pursing her lips.

“I see. Wait, he’s married?”

“Engaged,” you correct.

She forms her mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ and lets out a tiny noise. You inhale sharply and glance back at Lafayette. He had his focus on the conversation before him, nothing else. Eliza gave you a reassuring smile and told you everything will be okay.

Then you thought back to Maria in the bathroom. ‘Take the first step even if it seems scary.’

Her words echoed in your mind. You needed to go for it like she said. But first, liquid courage.

You downed a shot and stood, strutting over to Lafayette and grabbing him by the arm. He gave you a confused look, but didn’t resist when you pulled him away from his friends.

“Could we go back to mine and talk? There’s things I need to tell you,” you bite your lower lip.

“I don’t want to leave yet,” he frowned.

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, “I’m gonna head out then. Goodbye, Lafayette.”

“Wait,” he stopped you from walking off. “I’m not gonna let you walk home by yourself. ‘Ts not safe.”

The urge to smirk tugged on your lips, and you fought it back. You both said your goodbyes to the rest of the group. Laurens shouts out ‘use protection!’ to which you both ignore before walking out.

There’s a tense, thick silence between you. It was almost palpable. The chill of the night air made you shiver, and he just barely pulled you closer to him.

“Lafayette,” you start once you see your apartment complex come into view. “Tell me the real reason why you’re mad.”

“‘M not mad,” he mumbled.

“So then, what is it? You’ve been acting weird since I got back from the bathroom.”

He didn’t reply. You neared closer and closer to the apartment.

“Lafayette?” You called out, impatiently waiting for a response. Anything, something. Even a squeeze of the hand would’ve been nice, but he was unresponsive.

“I just—“ he cut himself short, inhaling sharply. “I just don’t like when you flirt with other guys.”

“Okay, first of all, I wasn’t flirting with him—“

“But you touched him. I saw it,” he countered.

“Because he was showing me his engagement ring. Lafayette, the man is about to get married, I was just excited for him.” You snort. He falls silent once again, processing your words. “And why are you so jealous if I talk to another man? It’s like anytime somebody comes five feet within my vicinity, you become some overprotective b—friend.” You refrained from accidentally referring to him as your boyfriend, as much as you wish you could.

“I wonder, amour, I really do.” He sassed, rolling his eyes. The way he called you the pet name held weight to it, too.

“Stop it,” you growled. Both of you stood outside the building, nothing but the pale moonlight and broken street lamps illuminating you.

“Stop what?”

“Deflecting the fucking conversation! I’m trying to communicate with you here, and you’re not listening!” You finally snap.

He stares at you, wide eyes and shock written on him. It wasn’t often that you truly got pushed to breaking point, and you seldom swore at him. He didn’t know how to react, really. But god, you being mad at him did something to him words couldn’t explain.

“Y/n,” he spoke, voice low and gravely, “I ‘ave tried to make this as obvious as possible.”

“What?” You scrunched your nose in confusion. He wasn’t referring to everything everyone has ever told you, right? That couldn’t possibly be! Was he alluding to the very real feelings that plague his mind every time he’s near you?

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” he swallows hard, taking a step closer to you. The cold air nipped at his nose, making it flushed red.

“No, Lafayette, I don’t. So fucking tell me,” you seethe.

He sighs, murmuring something in French before cupping your face and smashing his lips against yours.

Ah. So that’s what it was.

Without hesitation, you kissed back. Your arms found their way to his neck, and one of his hands stayed on your jaw while the other moved to your lower back, pulling you in closer. Time seemed to have stopped at that moment. All passion and years of yearning were poured into one moment.

He may not have been your first kiss, but he was the first kiss that mattered.

When he pulled off, breathless and now kiss-drunk on top of alcohol-drunk, he looked ethereal. “I’m in love with you, amour, and I have been for so long,” he confessed.

Once again, frozen in time. He stared into your eyes, waiting for a reaction. When you didn’t, you could feel panic seep from him. He loosened his embrace on you and a regretful worry stirred on his features.

“Mon Dieu, I’ve messed everything up now, ‘aven’t I?” He swore, dropping his hands completely from you.

That’s all it took to snap you out of your daze.

“No! No, you haven’t messed anything up. Lafayette, I—“ you grabbed his hands again, pushing closer to him. “I feel the same way. I’ve loved you since the moment we first met, and this whole time I’ve been wondering if you felt the same.”

“Seriously?” He asked.

“Mhm,” you nodded, smile growing wider with every passing second.

“You’re saying we could’ve done this earlier?”

You laughed, shaking your head gently. “Maybe it was meant to happen at this moment.” You leaned in and kissed him sweetly, shorter this time. He smiled into it, and when you pulled off it only seemed to brighten.

“So can we make this official? You’ll be mine?” He asked with a hopeful squeeze of your hands.

“I’ve always been yours, Laf.”

—

“We should mess with them,” you said while riding the elevator up to Laurens’ apartment. It had been a week after you and Lafayette officially got together, and you both agreed to keep it on the DL for a while.

“‘Ow so?” He asked, intrigued.

“Well, they always pressured me into confessing to you. Maybe we can pretend like we’re still friends and just be extra touchy with each other,” you shrugged.

He grinned, eyebrows shooting up. “Let’s do it.” He held his hand out and you took it, interlocking fingers as you approached the door.

A few swift knocks for the door swung open, and Hercules greeted you with a loud welcome. “The lovebirds have arrived! Come in, come in,” he opened the door wider and you stepped inside. Everyone else already seemed to be there, laughing, drinking, eating, and having a good time.

Lafayette kept his arms around your waist the whole time, earning you looks from the Schuyler sisters and Alex. None of them knew they were being fucked with, and their reactions to it made it so much better.

While you all sat on the couch, scrolling to find a good horror movie to watch, you sat in between Laf’s legs, him holding you close in a comforting manner. Once again, Eliza shot you a knowing look, and you just shrugged.

Laurens and Hercules finally came to an agreement on watching Get Out, and somewhere in the first ten minutes, you got up to get a refill.

Naturally, Lafayette trailed after you to the kitchen. The moment you were both out of earshot and sight, you burst into fits of giggles. The rest of the group, however, had a more serious reaction.

“So we all agree we need to get them together soon, right?” Laurens spoke quietly. Everyone hummed in agreement.

“It’s agonizing watching them pine for each other,” Alex said.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Eliza got up.

“And I’ll talk to him,” Alex said, following her into the next room over where you and Lafayette were.

When they walked in, however, you were wrapped in each others arms in a kiss. They gasped, and you both scrambled off one another, a guilty smile forming on your face.

“What’s going on here?” Alex spoke, breaking the stunned silence.

You shared a look with Lafayette, smiling even wider than before and struggled to contain your laughter.

---

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.

---

Hey, roomie! ch. 8?

thomas j. x reader

Warnings: swearing, stupidity, second hand embarrassment

Words: 2.6k

A shocking realization hits you after an encounter with Lafayette.

Notes: erm yea

“You’re talking to shit-bury now?!” Laurens screamed across the counter, causing some heads to turn and glare at him.

“Keep your voice down, god. And what is with you altering names to have shit in it?” You grumbled, flushing warm from embarrassment.

“I thought Jefferson was bad! Now you go out and—and…” he trails off in disbelief, tugging at some of his curly hair.

“You’re acting like I just ran over your dog. Seriously John, calm down.” You grunt, motioning for him to settle. “And besides, Thomas said there’s nothing between us anyway.”

“Did he?” Lafayette gave you a confused look.

“Uh, yeah,” you take a swig of beer.

“That’s not what he told me,” he shrugged, making a mental note to ask Thomas about it himself. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but then decided against it.

“I still can’t believe that happened,” Hercules piped up. You rolled your eyes.

“It’s in the past now. We’ve both decided to move on.”

Lafayette stares at the wooden table beneath him, gears turning in his head. You were about to ask him what Thomas really said, but John’s ruckus prevented you from doing so.

“You have horrible taste in men, Y/n. I mean, c’mon, who’s next? Charles Lee?” Laurens scoffed.

“I’m insulted you think I’d stoop that low,” you put a dramatic hand over your heart.

“Considering the guys you’re going for now? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Fuck you,” you growled. He laughed, almost as if he was challenging you.

“Okay guys, let’s calm down,” Hercules held out his hands to try and mediate the argument. Both of you completely ignored him with glares sent in the other direction. By then, you had forgotten all about what Lafayette had said earlier.

“You don’t even know anything about Samuel other than the little high school drama you had. Get over it, he was sixteen!”

“He shouldn’t have been such a suck up to Principle George then!”

“Maybe don’t try and overturn him??”

“Principle George was such an asshole! If you went there, you’d be trying to overthrow him too,” he slammed his hands on the table.

“All I’m saying is he’s a nice guy. He invited me to go out to dinner with him in a few days! Let me be happy!” You seethed.

“Nice guy?! You barely know him! You’re already going out with him?” You were opening your mouth to bark back how the hell else are you supposed to get to know him, but the booming sound of Mulligan’s voice demanding you both shut the fuck up stopped you.

John sent one final glare your way, lowering into his seat. You stuck your tongue out at him, childish as you are.

“Does Thomas know?” Lafayette asked. He had been awfully quiet throughout the whole ordeal.

“What, about Samuel? No, not yet. Haven’t told him.” You reply. He nods, mumbling something in French. John must’ve understood because his eyes went wide and he whipped his head to you.

“Ne lui dis pas, connard!” Lafayette hissed. Whatever he said must’ve been effective, because Laurens backed down, saying something frantic in French to which Laf replied in a hushed tone. You caught little snippets that you couldn’t translate despite the two years of French you took in high school.

Va-t-il lui dire?

Il allait bientôt.

Ne l'aime-t-elle pas?

“Are you guys gonna tell me what you’re saying? I’m feelin’ a little left out here,” you complain. “I also don’t appreciate you talking about me when I’m right fucking here.”

“They do this all the time with Hamilton,” Hercules sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Welcome to my world.”

—

You hadn’t spoken with Peggy since the coffee shop incident. It was starting to feel a little lonely without her; you hadn’t realized how clingy you could be. It’s only been two days, but that was still enough for you to feel bereaved. In the span of those two days, you came to a frightening realization.

She was mad at you.

For what reason was beyond you. You tried to retrace your actions or words to see where you might’ve gone wrong; it all led back to that day when Samuel came up to you.

He was starting to become a reoccurring name in your life, wasn’t he? You started talking to him more and more, pushing down the fact that you would have to face Peggy eventually and own up to whatever you did so wrong.

When you tried to call her, she texted you she was busy and to call her later. You made a mental note to call her after you called Samuel. After chatting back and forth for the time without Peggy (he was no replacement, but he called you pretty so he would do), you deemed it acceptable to start calling him.

The moon was shining, the couch was incredibly comfy, and you had the whole apartment to yourself. It had been only 30 minutes on call with Samuel. You managed to compliment his British accent four times, saying how much you loved it. It just made you feel like a bigger fraud, cause deep down you knew Southern accents were your favorite.

The door softly clicked open while you were mid laugh. Thomas quirked an eyebrow, an exhausted smile growing on his face.

“I come bearing gifts.” He held up two smoothies from Tropical Smoothie Cafe. A wide grin appeared on your face, jumping up from your spot on the couch.

“One second, Sam,” you say, going on mute so you can thank Thomas.

“Who’s on the phone with you?” He asked, curiosity in his voice, and if you listened close enough you’d hear the hint of jealousy as well.

“Samuel. I don’t think you’ve met him yet,” you reply, taking a sip from the smoothie he got you. It was your favorite: blueberry bliss. He must’ve remembered from the time you mentioned it once in conversation. “Thank you.” You beam.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he puts on a smile, his eyes lingering on you as you walk back to retrieve your phone.

“I’ll go to my room. Thanks again, Thomas.” You said, leaving him to go to your own bedroom.

You missed the scowl that formed on his face. Who Samuel was, he didn’t know. And why were you giggling so flirty with him? He’d have to ask Lafayette to see if he has any details.

“Sorry, that was my roommate,” you grin sheepishly although he can’t see it.

“No worries!” He chirps, “Thomas you said his name was, right?”

“Yeah, I know it’s a little weird that I have a male roommate but it’s only temporary.” You say. When you mentioned it earlier to him, he honestly didn’t seem to mind. Of course you didn’t tell him about the…incident, but he doesn’t need to know about that.

You’re not about to ruin something good. Something real.

You realize you were staring at the smoothie cup, in another world while Samuel rambled on about something you didn’t even know. You were too preoccupied in your own thoughts, twirling your finger around the rim.

“—ou there? Y/n?”

His voice snaps you out of your daze, and you scramble to reply, setting the cup down and turning away from it.

“Yeah, sorry,” you breathe out.

“Okay, good, anyway I was saying—“

You stopped listening from there. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interesting or anything, you just couldn’t find yourself to keep attention on him. Maybe you were just fatigued.

Or maybe he just wasn’t Thomas.

—

“I’m sorry, Peggy, for whatever I did.” You blurted the moment she picked up the phone. There was silence on the other end, along with some shuffling. It heightened your senses in a way. The fan was buzzing louder than normal and blasting cool air, the muffled chatter of Thomas in the other room leaving you wondering who he’s talking to, the weight of your blanket on your body.

“This is a shitty way to apologize. Over the phone, I mean.” Her tone is even and steady, not holding much distinct emotion.

“I—Peggy, please, I said I was sorry. I don’t even know what I did,” you blurt, growing increasingly frustrated. You took a deep breath in, you didn’t want to fight any longer with her.

“It’s not what you did to me, Y/n. It’s what you’re doing to Thomas, and the fact you can’t see that.”

“Wh—I talked things out with him like you said. He told me about—“ you paused, unsure of what you could reveal, “some personal business.“ you huff. She lets out a deep sigh, and you can almost hear her pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Look, I have things to do. When you finally figure it out, come talk to me. In person. But for now, focus on getting things together.” She states before hanging up, leaving you alone to your thoughts.

Figure what out? It made zero sense. You haven’t done anything to Thomas, and anything you did do you apologized for. You literally confronted him about the problem, and he confided in you about his hospitalized mom. He stated that you were the only person he’s told! If that’s not good enough for Peggy, you don’t know what is.

Your jaw slacked open as you calculated what she could be referring to. Was it because you’re talking to Samuel now? You know that Alex and them have history with him in high school, but surely she can’t be that disgusted with Seabury that she hates you for it. It was all so frustrating and confusing.

Thomas’s voice got louder and you focused your attention on it, slightly shuffling closer to the wall to get a better listen.

“Laf, if I have to intimidate someone I will—“

That was the only sentence you could make out. The rest was too muffled, and he must’ve realized how loud he was talking because he seemed to quiet down. Key takeaway: Lafayette has some information you might be able to use.

He has been in the middle of this situation since he came over, and maybe if you bought him enough chocolate, he would consider revealing secrets to you. Maybe then you could get to the root of the problem, figure out what you may be doing wrong with Thomas, and maybe Peggy confided in him too. Lafayette was the man to turn to, basically.

The next morning came around quicker than you thought it would. You had planned to train hard that morning, mostly to distract yourself from the negative emotions eating away at you, breaking you apart piece by piece.

The sun hadn’t even risen yet, and you were already lacing up your running shoes. It was a brutal routine you lived by daily; wake up, run, work, sleep, repeat. Day in and day out. You seldom skipped runs. They were your meditation, your peace, your mental clarity.

Some have called you insane for enjoying the feeling of your lungs burning or the searing pain in your shins and calves and quads. Those people couldn’t understand grit, you figured. Grit and determination and drive and passion.

Somewhere in the middle of your four mile run, it started pouring rain. Events of rolling your ankle like last time flashed your mind, and you made it a point to choose your steps carefully. Even though you had to end early, it was refreshing to get out there and let your thoughts disintegrate.

You arrived back around 7:45 am, drenched in rainwater and sweat. Surprisingly, Thomas was awake. He seemed to be moving about the apartment in a frantic manner, and froze when he saw you.

“You’re back,” he breathed out, eyes trailing up and down your figure. The water made your gray shirt stick to your form; you were just grateful you hadn’t worn white. He swallowed thickly and shuffled a little closer to you.

“Yeah. Came back early since it started raining,” you shrugged. Droplets of water streamed from your hair down your face, and you were accidentally creating tracks of water in the house.

He frowned, taking your hand into his. “You’re freezing. Go shower and change into some warm clothes. Don’t wanna catch a cold like this, sweetheart,” he muttered the pet name almost solemnly.

“O-okay,” you stammered, a little flustered at him grabbing your hand. He cleared his throat and released it, letting you go to rinse off the freezing rainwater.

The hot water stripped away all your troubles. Mentally and physically. Upon stepping out, you realized you forgot to grab a towel, and none were stashed in the cabinet. You swore under your breath, debating your options.

You sighed since there was only one thing you could do.

“Thomas?” You poked your head out of the bathroom, careful to cover up and not flash anything.

“Yeah?” He called from the living room.

“Could you get me a towel?”

He’s silent for a second before responding with a breathy yeah, and moves to find you a towel. The embarrassment from this situation crawled inside your skin as you waited for him. Not long after, he came stalking down the hallway, holding two towels. His eyes widened slightly, and he snapped his gaze to your face to avoid any awkward confrontation.

“Here,” he sticks out the towels and you reach your arm out to grab them, muttering a mortified thanks. He nods, pivoting quickly as you shut the door.

Your skin flushed a shade darker, visible or not, you could feel the heat. Maybe it was just steam from the scorching hot shower that fogged up the window, or maybe how close you got to being completely naked in front of Thomas.

It was probably the latter.

—

“Lafayette, my friend, my pal, my buddy. I need your help.” You gave him a sheepish smile. He gave you an expectant look as if to say why have you showed up to my door in the middle of the day.

“With?” He opens the door wider for you to enter.

“Thomas. Peggy is still mad at me and she said it’s because I’m doing something wrong with him and I just—I don’t know what I'm doing wrong. And I heard him talking to you last night, so I know you know something.”

His face paled a little and his shoulders stiffened. “What all did you ‘ear?”

“Like, one sentence. All I heard him say was your name and he would intimidate someone. Don’t know who he was referring to.” Your face morphs into confusion as you recall the memory.

“Jesus, you are even more dense than I thought,” he sighed.

“Pardon?”

“Y/n…Mon ami, it’s too obvious. How can you not see it?” He shook his head gently.

“See what? What am I missing?” You pleaded for him to tell you.

“I do not want to spoil it for you. All I will say is you are ze first girl Thomas has ever told us about.” He reveals. “You must leave now, ami. Good luck.” He shoos you out of his apartment, not in a rude way but what he said left you confuddled.

You were the only girl Thomas has told them about.

That thought sent butterflies flapping in your stomach, along with the tingling, jittery sensation of when you have a crush and you find out they like you back.

Oh.

Oh no.

---

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 🫶

---

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 twin omg I just showed ur Lauren’s fic to a friend and she’s reading it rn 😊 I HAVVVEEE to promote my fav writer ofc’!!

This is so sweet thank you 😭😭 it’s still crazy to me how people actually enjoy my writing

Hey, roomie! ch. 5

thomas j. x reader

wc: like 2.8k I think

warnings: swearing yada yada the usual

You confront Thomas after he ignores you for the millionth time.

It has been four days with Thomas upset. It was starting to become worrisome.

You did what Peggy advised: give him space. You’ve given him tons of time to think, and he’s still failed to have a full conversation with you. It was starting to become childish. But you figured that he’d come around eventually and things would go back to normal, so you’d play the waiting game if necessary. It was hard when he was always gone though. When he’d left for work on Monday, he didn’t come back until the late hours of the night when all was quiet.

Even on Sunday, he was gone most of the day. Sometimes he would pop in but majority was spent god-knows-where doing god-knows-what.

On the fourth day, you noted he started speaking to you more. He wouldn’t avoid you and rush out of the room anytime you entered. He sat with you at dinner and breakfast (typing frantically on his phone, but still there nonetheless). He left some coffee in the pot for you after he brewed himself some. Progress was being made.

Although you wondered why. Why did you care so much if he was happy with you or not? The thought plagued your mind and you found that every time you looked at him, you wondered what things would be like if he was happy with you. You wondered what you’d be talking about, what new adventure you’d go on, what petty argument would be sparked that ultimately wouldn’t matter, because it’d be over some stupid shit like ‘who has to do the dishes?’ Or ‘which shitty childhood film was the best?’ (The answer is shark boy and lava girl, by the way.)

Instead, you had to wonder what he was thinking about. What his twisted look of confusion, angst, grief, sorrow, and guilt muddled into one means. Pondering what the occasional brush of fingertips meant to him, and if it sent his heart racing as fast as it did yours.

At times, you would catch him staring at you. He would quickly snap his eyes back to whatever was at hand, and pretend like he didn’t get detected. It started getting on your nerves, and you found yourself growing angry every time he’d act like you weren’t there.

It got to a point where you were in the kitchen, cooking mac and cheese because you know it’s his favorite (not that you keep track of what he likes or anything) when he entered and barely acknowledged you. He looked at the pot of mac, nodded to himself, then sat at the table on his phone. By that point you were about to boil over with frustration.

“When is this little game gonna stop?” You snapped.

Thomas peered up at you with furrowed brows. He opened his mouth to speak, but you kept talking before he got the chance to.

“I mean it’s been what, four days? It’s immature. Whatever problem you have, just fucking talk to me instead of ignoring me.”

“Can I speak?” He gives you a pointed look and you glare at him before nodding slightly. “Great. I don’t have a problem with you or anythin’, I’m just tryin’ to work out my own feelings before I talk to you.” He explains calmly, but his tone held impatience and annoyance.

“What feelings? Jealousy because I’m close friends with Lafayette?” You scoff. His eyes widen and he sits up straighter.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of, sugar,” he laughs bitterly. “You can do whatever the hell you want, I’m not your dad.”

“So then why have you been avoiding me?”

“Like I said,” his jaw twitches, “I’m trying to figure out myself first.” Liar. Liar liar liar LIAR!

“And that doesn’t allow you to be able to have an adult conversation with me?” You retort. He sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yet you call this an adult conversation…” He mutters just loud enough for you to hear. You roll your eyes.

“I’m trying to confront the problem. Face it, fix it, and make it better.” You cross your arms, grating your teeth.

“Is this really makin’ it better? I mean, c’mon, you confront me out of the blue and keep attackin’ me, then expect me to do all the work in makin’ up!”

You let your arms fall to your side, shoulders slumping and a guilty feeling gnawing at your stomach. For once, you couldn’t think of anything to say back. He was completely right, you started attacking him then wouldn’t let him speak, and you were being a giant hypocrite. You stare at him, his rant processing in your head. When you finally could speak, the first two words that came from your mouth just happened. You didn’t think, you just said.

“I’m sorry.”

Now it’s his turn to stare at you. His jaw is hung slightly ajar as he studies your face for any dishonesty. Then, he sighs—softer this time, less aggravated and more relaxed. There was an excruciatingly long period of silence, of him processing your words and working out his next move. He could either A) choose to forgive you or B) decide to keep the argument going. It’s in his hands now, and there wasn't much you could do other than hope.

By the time he replied, the anger inside of you calmed, but you were still full of questions, and unsaid arguments running rampant through your brain.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for ignorin’ you, I didn’t know it truly bothered you,” he admits, standing up. “Hug it out?” A cheeky grin spreads on his face.

“Hell no, words are enough,” you laugh. You knew it wouldn’t be completely normal, not for a little while longer, but this came as a relief. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You hated fighting with people and walking around knowing someone is pissed at you, so it was nice knowing this feud was finally done.

“C’mon, we gotta hug it out.” He walks closer, his arms open wide as he approaches you.

“No we don’t—oh, you’re doing it anyway okay.” He engulfs you in a bone-crushing hug. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed you, and every pat on your back made your stomach flutter.

“‘M not letting go ‘til you hug back,” he murmurs in your ear. You sigh, allowing yourself to melt into his embrace and wrap your arms around him. You stayed like that for a good five seconds; you were so close your heartbeats synchronized. For some reason, his warmth made you feel safe. Comfortable.

He pulles off, a wide smile on his face, and a look in his eyes you haven’t seen. “That wasn't so hard, was it?” He whispers, his voice gentle.

“Do you have to be an asshole with everything you say?” You joked. He rolled his eyes playfully, the smile never faltering on his face.

“Whatever. You love me. If you didn’t you wouldn’t have made mac ‘n cheese, which I am really looking forward to, by the way.” He beams, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I made mac ‘n cheese because I wanted mac ‘n cheese,” you lie. He saw right through it.

—

“This is the best goddamn mac I’ve ever had,” Thomas exclaims, his mouth still full of food after his first bite. A shy smile creeps on your face.

“Thanks, it’s Tini’s recipe,” you admit. You’re just glad the way your heartbeat sped up from his compliment wasn’t visible.

He scarfed down his first place and went back for seconds, completely ignoring any vegetables you made on the side to balance it out. Man had only one thought in mind and it was pasta.

“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to choke.” You set your fork down in concern, watching him shove as much sustenance in his mouth as possible.

“Hmf—ha’s wha she saih,” he giggled.

You shook your head but you couldn’t deny the grin that fell upon your lips after hearing his shitty joke. It felt a little weird laughing with him so naturally when not two hours ago you would bicker. The switch left you wondering if he was growing tired of fighting. If he longed for talking to you like how you had grown to miss his presence.

The subject bothered you so much, you didn’t wait for him to stop chewing before you asked the question burning in your head.

“Why did you react that way when your friends were over?” You blurt, impatience evident in your voice.

He pauses, swallows his food, and thinks on the matter.

“I was just tired.” He says stiffly. You didn’t think his bullshit excuse was true, but you decided not to push it. For now.

“Hm. Alright.” You stand abruptly to rinse your plate and set it in the dishwasher. He joins you shortly after, a thick silence falling over you.

You knew there was something deeper to his attitude these past days. There had to be. No one just ignores someone for five days because “they were tired.” Part of you wondered if Peggy was right. Did he get jealous because you were play-fighting with Laf? Although what he said earlier was true, much as you hate to admit it. There’s no reason for him to be jealous. There is nothing between you and Thomas, and there is nothing between you and Lafayette.

And there never will be. It is what it is.

You glance at him, studying his features. He was focused on the dish in his large, strong hands that could easily pick you up and pin you down—wait. What was that last thought?

You swallowed, regretfully tearing your eyes away from him. A sudden wave of nausea washed over you, causing you to stumble to the couch to sit down. Or was it being flustered? The line was blurred.

“You alright? You look a little queasy,” he frowns, joining next to you.

“Yeah, I just ate too much, I guess.” You shrugged it off, trying to ignore how the way his leg brushing against yours sent electricity through your entire body. He didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, it didn’t bother him.

“Alright…Wanna watch a movie?” He narrows his eyes at you momentarily before straightening up, then holding the remote up as an offer.

“Sure. Your pick.” You nod and shift to get comfortable. He grabs the blanket that sat next to him and drapes it over the two of you. The couch was small enough to where you almost sat shoulder to shoulder, and the blanket was comically large.

About halfway through Interstellar, you started feeling a little drowsy. Your blinking slowed and your head suddenly weighed like a ton of bricks. Another 40 minutes or so goes by and the voice of Matthew McConaughey droned on and on, blurring into what sounded like the perfect environment for sleep. You fought to keep your head upright, but alas, Thomas’s shoulder seemed like the perfect pillow to lie your head on. Only for a minute, you told yourself. It was the last thought you had before you were lulled into sleep.

You weren’t awake to watch Thomas’s reaction. His features softened, he stayed dead still, and turned down the TV so you could sleep better. His chivalry would’ve made your cheeks flush had you been present to witness it.

—

“The wedding is only a week away! I’m so excited!” Eliza exclaimed.

She was referring to her courtship with Alexander, of course, as they had been seeing each other for more than four years. He had finally popped the question about six months ago, and Eliza merrily accepted him with tears in her eyes.

You were extremely happy for your friend; she was to be a wife in only one week. For most, this tradition is considered the happiest day of their lives. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get married, no, not with your luck around guys. But at least you could support Eliza and Alex.

They were perfect for each other, too. She was just as witty as he, if not more, and both were extremely intelligent. Alex had the penmanship of a poet and Eliza lived in books. It was truly a sight to see them together; neither could stop sneaking glances at the other then smiling, a fierce blush adorning both of their faces

You saw firsthand how he became enamored with her, how he wooed her by sending flowers with letters attached to it. It seemed that any time you spoke to Eliza before they started dating, she always mentioned how sweet Alex was and the latest thing he did to charm her. Typical talk of someone in love, always speaking of their interest.

When she asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, you were ecstatic. Angelica was the only other person to ask you to hold such a title, and that was an honor to you. Of course you said yes, and she went on about her ideas of the wedding.

Eliza wasn't much for “girly” things like that. She had always been the bookworm of the sisters; the one that picked up on studies the easiest and advocated for what she thought right. So it came as a shock when she ranted about her dream wedding, and she was thankful Alex let her do most of the planning.

She just seemed to light up whenever chatting about Alex or the wedding. She went on about how perfect it was when he proposed, and she’s extremely grateful he was able to win over her parents. The Schuyler family only accepts the best of the best into their circle, and Alex wasn't exactly someone that should even go near the Schuylers. Hamilton was a poor, orphan, immigrant who barely had his own name, let alone anything to it. The Schuylers were notorious for their wealth and social status, with Philip Schuyler being a senator for New York.

“You never did tell me what dances I’m supposed to learn,” you say.

“Oh! Right, well there’s going to be a slow-waltz,” she starts. For the next few minutes, she goes into detail about what dances there will be and how it will operate. You, being a bridesmaid, will dance with the groomsmen for a couple waltz’s to please her parents. They were quite traditional after all.

You visualized how it would go: you’d ask either Laurens or Mulligan to dance (Lafayette is completely off the table since he is absolutely hopeless, you’ve seen how he acted at Angelica’s wedding), and then…shit. How do you dance?

You should be able to slow dance from Angelica’s wedding, but upon remembering, you were too drunk to truly dance. You kinda just swung around with Lafayette and laughed every time he stepped on your feet.

Well. This would be a problem. Put learning how to dance on your to-do list for the week.

“Oh god, you don’t know how to dance, do you?” Eliza asked, a worried look on her face. She was very observant, she must’ve noticed the way your face contorted into discomfort after she described the slow dancing.

“Not…really, no.” You give her a sheepish smile.

“Do you think you could get anyone to teach you?” She asked.

You pondered for a moment. How many people do you know would be willing to teach you to dance, and dance well? You know one who absolutely can’t; you know Alex can dance but he’s the groom. You’re not entirely sure how good Hercules or John would be at that type of stuff, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to ask them. Peggy and Angelica could, but they’d likely be too busy to give you lessons. It won’t hurt to ask but you can predict what the answer will be.

That left one person you are in close proximity with.

“I bet Jefferson wouldn’t mind,” Angelica wiggled her eyebrows. He had just entered the living room from the kitchen, and must’ve been eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Can’t you do it?” You whined. She formed her mouth into an awkward line.

“Busy. My husband and I are gonna be out of town for the next couple days, but we’ll be back in time for the wedding.” She shrugged. You huffed, rolling your eyes at her predictable answer.

“What about Peggy?”

“What about me?” Peggy popped her head in.

“If you could teach me to dance,” you pleaded. She stared at you blankly, glanced at Angelica for a prolonged period of time, then smiled devilishly at you.

“I can’t. Ask Thomas to teach you. You live with the guy.” She teased. “Besides, didn’t you say you’re good now?”

“Well…yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to dance with him,” you squirm uncomfortably. The sisters share a look as if to say bullshit detected. “What?”

“Didn’t you say you fell asleep on his shoulder last night?” Peggy gave you a pointed look.

You paused, opening your mouth for some quick quip, but nothing came out. Instead you flushed with embarrassment and huffed in annoyance. It was true that you fell asleep on the man you claimed to despise. Even if he was maybe—but only a little tiny bit—growing on you. When you woke up that morning, you were in your bed, a blanket neatly draped over you. When you greeted him at breakfast, there was a twinkle of amusement and mischief in his eyes.

“You’re seriously gonna make me ask him?” You crossed your arms and glared at all three of them. They weren’t fazed.

“You might as well. It’s not like it could hurt you or anything,” Eliza shrugged. Easy for her to say, when she danced with Alex for the first time it was ‘the most magical experience of her life.’

“I hate you guys so much,” you sighed. They laughed and Peggy patted you on the back.

“Oh, cheer up, it won’t be that bad. Maybe it’ll be good for your…relationship.”

“I dunno if relationship is the right word…”

---

Your skibidi.

You’re*

Thanks sigma 😛😛

Francesca‘s Master-list

| A organization collection of stories i’ve written, and ones yet to come |

Hamilton

Thomas Jefferson (x reader)

Beyond Monticello (complete) - One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten.

Listen before I go (complete) - One

Alexander Hamilton (x reader)

What we leave behind (complete ) - One, Two

Jamilton (Jefferson x Hamilton)

Quiet evenings (complete) - One