Hello, Wonderful Souls! 🤍🌍

NGL I would like to hear Alexander's thoughts on the reader dating Thomas 😭 and also I need a chapter where they get married or something. I just need everyone's opinion on it or the future. Maybe both😭😭(if you wanna I just like the idea in general)

Since you’re so kind 😉:

“I refuse to believe this is true.” Alex muttered darkly, glaring at Thomas’s hand draped around your waist. You finally got the courage to bring invite everyone over (as long as Thomas promised to behave himself): the ‘hamilsquad’, Burr, Madison, and the sisters of course.

“Truth hurts.” You shrugged. Thomas gave you a smirk as you leaned into him, a sly smile creeping on your face.

“I don’t get what you see in him,” he huffed, crossing his arms. John appeared by his side, an equally distraught expression on his face.

“Honestly? I don’t either,” you joked, causing Thomas to gasp and playfully push you.

“You don’t mean that,” he grins. You grin back.

“Course not, sweetheart.” You tease. He rolled his eyes, enjoying the fact that Alexander was crumbling in front of him with disgust, despair, and pure rage.

“Seabury doesn’t sound too bad right about now,” John murmured, him and Alex walking off in a swirl of horror and exhaustion.

Your skibidi.

You’re*

Thanks sigma 😛😛

This is literallt the sweetest thing ever to know people are thinking of me 😭😭 I LOVE U TOO SUKI!!!

Yeah I’m like “that’s bae” and then I pull up a screenshot of my tumblr mutual (is that what u call it here? Im an ao3 glazer…) anyway @jestersprivilegee LOVE U 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

Hey, roomie! Ch. 4

thomas j. x reader

Thomas invites his friends over, and after a heated argument, Peggy suggests an emotion you didn’t think plausible.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: some cussin’, Lafayette being lafayette

bro why can I not write anything over 3k words wth 😭😭

“I’m gonna have some friends over tonight,” Thomas states, peeking his head into your room. You looked up from the book you were reading, Can’t Hurt Me, and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, how many friends?” You asked.

“Only two. They’re nice, I swear,” he reassures after observing the weary look on your face. You let out a small huff when he ultimately shuts the door before you can get another word in.

Things have been different since that night you helped treat his wound. He’s been softer, more careful with his words. He would still flirt shamelessly with you, but the tone in which he did so changed. It went from just spewing out the first words that came to mind to carefully crafted compliments, each one specific to the day. Like when he pointed out how the navy blue sweater you wore matched your personality. An odd thing for him to say, but you thanked him nonetheless.

The shift was very subtle. You had to search for it to notice it (not that you were paying more attention to him or anything, haha), and when you did, you found it in almost every conversation. His hand is almost fully healed now, but he’d likely have a scar when the bandage finally comes off.

You finished your chapter and picked up your phone to check your messages. Peggy had been asking about plans for the weekend, which you still had to get back to her about.

Peggy: we still on for sunday?

You: u know it ;)

She’s been asking for weeks now to go shopping with her for some new clothes, and you’ve been putting it off. Mostly because you don’t have enough money, partially because shopping isn’t really your favorite thing to do, but you know she loves it, so for this one time you’ll suck it up and go with her.

An hour passes by and before you know it, Thomas’s friends occupy the living room. The distinct chatter of an unfamiliar voice wasn’t suppressed from the thin walls that separated your room from the living room.

You endured it at first, but as the night progressed, they just seemed to get louder and louder. A part of you wanted to scream at them to shut up, but you knew that wasn't logical, so you settled on walking out and calmly asking them to tone it down.

When you entered, Thomas immediately lit up at the sight of you, looking ecstatic to introduce you to his friends.

“Y/n! Nice of you to join us,” he laughs, pulling you towards the group before you can protest. That might’ve been the first time you’ve heard him use your name.

“Y/n?” A familiar French voice echoed. Your eyes darted to the source—Lafayette. He was someone you were well acquainted with; with him being close to Alexander and the sisters, you connected through that.

You’ve hung out before with Alexander’s group—John Laurens, Lafayette of course, Hercules Mulligan, and occasionally the sisters. You found him to be quite the charmer; he knew when to fight and when to comfort another soul, which you seriously respect.

“Lafayette! I didn’t know you were coming over.” There was a pleasant surprise that came with this statement. A smile curved on your lips as you moved to give him a hug. The other men, one of them who you did not yet know the name of, watched as you reunited with Lafayette.

“Zis is a surprise to me too, mon ami. When he said he was rooming with Y/n I didn’t realize it was you.” He pulled away from you but kept an arm on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, how do you two know each other?” Thomas cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced between you and Lafayette. More specifically to Laf’s hand placement.

“Mutual friends, but we’ve been hanging out more,” you reply. He nods, an indiscernible look on his face.

Your eyes caught the dark headed man who sat idly on the couch, a quiet demeanor about him. He wore a light gray Nike sweater with basic blue jeans, and a simple dog tag necklace. Despite his easily observable introvertism, he held himself with confidence. Almost like he knew he was a hard motherfucker. He had amusement in his eyes when they caught yours.

“…Anyway, this is James. James, this is Y/n,” Thomas said. You smiled and stuck out your hand for him to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you.” James grinned politely.

“Always nice to meet people who identify closely with Thomas,” you teased. Jefferson rolled his eyes.

“We’ve heard a lot about you, ami,” Lafayette snickers, a mischievous smile curled on his face. Thomas shoots him a look as if to tell him to quiet down, but your interest was already piqued. And Lafayette isn’t one to quit talking because someone wants him to.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” You raise an eyebrow and turn to Thomas.

“Just about ’ow p—“

“—Not important,” Thomas cuts Lafayette off, scrambling between you. “Just how fun you are to annoy.”

“And how smart you are,” James speaks up. Your eyebrows fly up in shock. Thomas thinks you’re smart?

“Okay, I only said that because she’s able to keep up with me verbally,” he defends. A scowl is directed to James for betraying him. Madison puts up his hands in defense and chuckles. Thomas can keep his composure, but even you could see the frantic shift in personality.

“Not what it sounded like,” Lafayette said in a sing-song voice. You stifled a giggle, causing Thomas to direct a glare at you now.

“Don’t laugh at me, sweetheart, can’t you see I’m hurtin’ here?” He groans.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you think I’m smart and whatever Laf was gonna say before you so rudely interrupted him.” A playful smile adorns your face.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he grumbles, averting his eyes from you.

“You should join us,” Laf offers, diminishing any awkward silence that followed Thomas’s last comment. Thank god for outgoing people.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. I just came here to,” you pause, remembering you came here to tell them off, “get a glass of water.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding, ami! Your presence is always welcome,” he reassures, putting a gentle grip on your shoulder. Your features soften and you weigh your options. If the other two were okay with it, then maybe you would stick around for a little while, but you don’t want to overstay boys’ night. “Ze boys don’t mind, right boys?” Lafayette turns to Thomas and James with a pout on his face.

“Thomas wouldn’t mind at a—ow!” James starts but Thomas smacks the back of his head.

“No, we don’t mind,” Thomas says.

“Wonderful! You can drink and play Wii sports with us, then,” Lafayette cheers. Thomas’s eyes flicker to the hand that stayed firmly on your shoulder, yet he remains silent.

—

It didn’t take long for you to get tipsy. They kept enticing you to drink as the night progressed, and after so many rounds of Wii bowling, you needed it.

In all your time spent knowing Lafayette, he never mentioned that he is a god at sword fighting. You considered yourself pretty good at that game, but almost immediately after playing against him, he had your Mii wiped out into the water. He demolished Thomas and James as well, and eventually you ruled that game off limits because he was so cracked at it.

James, quiet as he is, somehow managed to get four hole-in-ones at golf. Maybe he practiced often, or maybe he was just fucking weird, but that man was freakishly good at golf.

Thomas was bragging earlier about how he was the ‘King of Bowling.’ After playing against him for a few rounds, you realized why. The strikes he managed to cultivate piled up, at one point he had a streak going. After each bowl he would rub it in your face how much better he is, to which you kindly suggested that he suck a dick.

You, on the other hand, vanquished them in power cruising and table tennis. Basically, whatever they lacked in, you came out victorious. You found yourself having more fun than you thought you would, especially since it was Thomas you were hanging out with. James wasn't bad, in fact, under any other circumstances you would consider being his friend. Lafayette was great as always, and you stuck close to him throughout the night.

After playing every possible Wii Sports Resort game, you sat in the living room just chatting.

Thomas was across from you with James next to him, and you sat leg-to-leg with Laf. He kept an arm draped around your shoulder in a friendly manner. The conversation darted from one topic to the next, but currently the main idea was college stories.

“What about that time you got pepper sprayed in college?” James asked Thomas, a devilish smirk on his face. You let out a gasp and Lafayette started laughing loudly.

“Okay—it’s not what it sounds like,” he addresses your signal of distress, “I was walking to a frat party and using a shortcut which happened to be through the bushes, so when I emerged she screamed and immediately pepper sprayed me.” He elucidates.

A wave of laughter swept over the group, and your stomach started hurting the more he tried to explain himself. You know he's not a bad guy and wouldn’t do anything like that, but the stressed tone and look on his face was too much to not laugh at.

“Didn’t she have to help you find the bathroom so you could wash your eyes?” James said through fits of giggles.

“How else was I supposed to find it? I was blinded for fucks sake!” He groans, throwing his head back.

This recalling led Lafayette to go on about how he got beer thrown at him in a bar. “All I’m saying is I wasn't wrong, his political views of France were incorrect and I politely pointed that out.” His French accent seeped through his words.

You giggled, leaning into his chest as his arm tightened around you. You didn’t catch the way Thomas’s jaw clenched.

“Must’ve been not polite enough if you got beer thrown at you,” you said with a smug grin. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“What I said was not important, okay?”

“Sure, sure, because you’re never in the wrong ever. Like that one time with Alex when you were playing rock paper scissors and lost but—“

“I did not lose! What is paper going to do to a rock in a real life situation, huh? Ze rock will grind up ze paper and therefore I win!” He cuts you off to loudly defend his stupidity.

“That’s not how it works!” You laugh, pushing him playfully. James was watching this whole ordeal with amusement, a wide grin on his face.

“Okay, uh, it’s getting late guys. How about we call it a night?” Thomas chimes in, checking his phone.

“It’s only 10:32,” you reply with furrowed eyebrows. He swallows thickly, seeming like he just bit back venomous words.

“Non, non, he is right chérie. We should be leaving,” Lafayette assured you. He seemed to be picking up the hint that Thomas was not happy, and when he realized he still had his arm around you, he pulled it off. Lafayette and James stood, saying their goodbyes before leaving.

“Dude. Why did you make them leave early? We were having fun,” you huff. A muscle flickered in Thomas’s jaw.

“Just ‘cause, okay? Don’t push it, god,” he snaps. You stare at him, anger building up in your stomach, waiting to be released.

“The fuck? What crawled up your ass?”

“Jesus—can you just accept the fact that we’re all tired and it was time for them to go? Why do you have to keep instigating shit?” He erupted. Your eyes widen in shock and your mouth hangs open until you regain composure.

“No, you’re tired. Lafayette, James and I were fine. Great, even! Til you fucking decided that it has to end because you want it to!” You accused, pointing a finger and shoving it into his chest.

“Sweetheart,” he said calmly, his voice low. The switch from shouting to stillness in his voice was violent; it scared you. Your finger dropped from his chest and you took a step back. “Let’s end it here and go to sleep. Goodnight.”

And with that, he left. He left you wondering what got him so riled up. And the way he said ‘sweetheart’ was cold, it didn’t send that fluttery feeling into your stomach like it normally does. It was harsh. You wanted to scream at him and run in and fight him; but you didn’t.

You sighed angrily and retreated to your room, fists still clenched with resentment.

—

“I don’t know why he’s acting this way, Peggy. He was actually being sweet to me, but it seems like the moment I met his friends, he switched up.” You complained to your friend, hauling around the bags of clothes she bought.

“How was he yesterday? Usually men just need some space to cool down after an argument like that,” She said. The ordeal happened Friday night, and you were shopping with Peggy on Sunday. On Saturday, he did his best to avoid you, ignoring you when in the same room and responding in short, one word answers.

“He’s been cold. Distant. Yesterday he gave me the silent treatment,” you scoffed. “Like seriously, what is he, twelve? Since when was he incapable of having adult conversations and talking things out?”

“Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He could still be processing his thoughts, and it might be a lot for him to try and process yours, too. Let alone voice his in a convo.” She suggests.

This was another reason you love Peggy so much. She always challenged your words like a true friend would. She didn’t just mindlessly agree to everything you were saying, no, she forced you to think about your words or actions and reflect. She really did make you a better person just by being in your life.

“Hm. I guess that could be possible. What should I do, then?”

“Give him time. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’s jealous, so I would just show him you don’t mean anything more than friendship with Lafayette.” She expands.

“Wait wait wait—what? Jealous?” You stutter, stopping dead in your tracks. Some people walking behind you side eyed you after you brake-checked them.

“Yeah? He sounds like he’s jealous because you’re close with Lafayette. Don’t you like Jefferson, anyway? Why are you so shocked?” She gives you a confused look.

“Whoa, whoa, who said anything about liking Thomas? He is not someone I am attracted to.” You furrow your eyebrows, continuing to walk with a deep frown on your face.

“It seems like you do. You talk about him a lot, I just kinda figured you had a crush on him or something.” She shrugged.

“A crush, ha! You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious. Every time I talk to you, you always somehow bring him up. Oh, Thomas did this, Thomas said that, y’know? It gets to a point…” She trails off.

This genuinely came as a shock to you. It didn’t ever occur that when you complain about Thomas, others might take it the wrong way and assume your attraction for him.

“I can assure you, Thomas is the last person I would ever like,” you say. That's one thing you’re certain of. Right?

Hey, roomie! Ch. 3

thomas j. x reader

warnings: swearing, nongraphic depictions of blood/injury, second hand embarrassment

Thomas helps you ease into talking to guys.

Word count: 2.6k

“If you want to get better at talking to guys, you just have to go out and talk to them.” Thomas walks beside you in Central Park, scoping out any single men looking to mingle.

“That’s way easier said than done.” You cringe, following his gaze to a man reading on a bench.

“You’re gonna have to get comfortable with rejection, sweetheart,” he stops, putting his hands on his hips. You keep your gaze focused on the lonesome man immersed in his book.

“Ugh—but I don’t know what to say…” You took a step back, accidentally hitting Thomas’s chest. He puts a hand on your shoulder and turns you to look you in the eyes.

“Sweetheart, it’s gonna suck, but if you want to improve you have to be comfortable with discomfort. Just go over and ask him what he’s reading. Say you thought he was cute and wanted to know if you could get his number. I’ll be sitting over there,” he nods to a fountain, “come find me afterwards. I’ll be picking up women of my own, so don’t rush it.” He winks, pushing you out slightly and patting your back.

You took a deep inhale and marched over to the guy. You nervously sat by him, but he didn’t budge. He kept his eyes on the printed words.

“Uh, hi,” you started off, turning to face him. He looks up, a little surprised to see someone talking to him. “I saw you reading and I thought you were cute, a-and wanted to know if I could maybe get your number?” You fiddled with your hands, struggling to keep eye contact.

He looks genuinely shocked that you said that, but with a polite awkward smile and laugh, he spoke. “I’m sorry, I have a girlfriend. But thank you anyway.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Have a nice day,” you quickly stood, power walking to where Thomas was sat at the edge of a fountain, observing the interaction between you and the guy.

“So?” He asks when you reach him.

“He has a girlfriend,” you sigh, taking a seat next to him. “Thomas, that was so awkward. It actually might’ve been the worst attempt to pickup a guy I have ever tried.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad. Sure, you looked a little nervous and you fidgeted, but unless you said something weird—“

“I literally stuttered! That’s embarrassing!” You exclaimed, covering your face in pure horror from the interaction. He laughed loudly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“But you still did it! That takes courage,” he says in an attempt to comfort you.

“What about you? Did you find any women to pick up?” You quickly change the subject to him in hopes of distracting yourself.

He shakes his head, giving a halfhearted shrug. “Nah, didn’t really see anyone interesting. Let’s go find someone else, shall we?” He grins, standing up. You sigh, following after his lead in the park.

After talking to two more guys, you got one number. One outta three ain’t bad. Granted, you don’t know if you’ll text the guy that often since he seemed a little boring. You gained more confidence than you thought you would, and really you had Thomas to thank for that. He was your wingman, hyping you up and coaching you on what to say or do. And throughout your messy attempts, he was patient. It struck you how odd it was that he could go from so incredibly annoying to kind in one day.

“How about we call it a day?” You plead after he starts searching for someone else. He glances down at you, back to the crowd, then shrugs.

“Okay. Your call, sweetheart.” He says. You let out a sigh of relief. It was all starting to get overwhelming—your sweater was itching and your palms were sweaty and you really needed to pee. You were just ready to go home.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, checking his watch and seeing that it’s 12:30. The feeling of hunger that you’ve been pushing down bubbles up and your stomach rumbles. You perk up and eagerly nod.

“Yeah. There’s a cheap pizza spot not far from here if you want?” You offer, pointing in the vague direction of where Pizza Co was located. He nods, grinning and falling into step next to you as you start walking.

The walk was pleasant. It was a nice day, and conversation flowed surprisingly easy. You didn’t know you had so much in common with Thomas; he loved gardening and philosophy, as he quoted Aristotle on “a friend to all is a friend to none” when the topic of his dislike for Alexander Hamilton came up. He was also a huge science nerd, which you figured from being his lab partner in college. For a good five minutes, he yapped on about the Jovian-Plutonian Gravitational effect where Sir Patrick Moore discovered that Pluto and Jupiter would weaken Earth’s gravitational field at 9:47AM in 1976. In simpler terms: people would be able to float around and objects wouldn’t be affected by gravity for a solid minute.

“Well…did it work?” You asked, genuine curiosity sparked in your voice. A mischievous grin lit up on him and he chuckled.

“No. It was an April fools prank, but that didn’t stop people from calling in on the radio show to report that they felt it. Some say when they jumped at the perfect time, they floated across their backyard like balloons.” He explained. You couldn’t miss the passion that was in his eyes. The way he talked so excitedly about this phenomenon as if it were real, and the way he talked about other similar incidents like when the BBC claimed they discovered a colony of flying penguins.

He even showed you the video that went along with it, depicting penguins launching off the ground and flying to the Amazon rainforest and hanging with toucans!

“No way people believed this. You can literally see the editing when they fly.” You laugh as he puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Some did. Well, anyone stupid enough to believe penguins have wings big enough to propel their fat little bodies off the ground.” He beams.

Before you know it, you reach Pizza Co and he holds the door open for you. Once you order your greasy slice of pepperoni pizza, you pull out your wallet to pay, but Thomas stops you.

“I got it,” he smiles, handing a ten to the cashier and ordering another slice of pepperoni. You huff, wanting to protest but the cash was already out of his hands. He gives you a smirk and winks.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say after receiving your comically large pizza slice on a crappy brown paper plate.

“I wanted to. Relax, just enjoy the pizza,” he waves his slice around in front of your face, laughing before taking a bite.

You roll your eyes and eat your pizza, the blended flavors melting on your tongue. If heaven were a taste, this was it. That, or you’re just really hungry and anything would be good right now.

—

“Okay, how about this one. Chris, 27, he’s looking for new friends and someone to maybe cuddle with.” You cringe as you read the last line, then show Peggy a picture of him.

“Nah. Swipe,” she laughs, her nose scrunched up and you raise your eyebrows, swiping left to read the next profile.

You were currently at Peggy’s apartment that she shares with her boyfriend, who was out for a business trip. Her sisters were on the way since this was supposed to be a girls’ night, and you were counting on them to show up because they had all the booze.

After swiping left on most and right on a select few men, you got a match. Eli, 24, and three miles from you.

“He’s cute,” Peggy comments and you bite your bottom lip, typing out a message to him. You went back and forth with casual conversation, most of it boring. Something inside you didn’t want to look for other men today. You just didn’t feel like it, oddly enough. So you turned your phone off.

“Not interested in him or what?” Peggy gives you a confused look.

“Nah. I’m more interested in you,” you smirk, shooting her a playful wink. She cracks a grin and shakes her head softly.

“Glad you finally came to your senses. Let’s kiss.” She fake flirts, doing a kissy face and leans in. You laugh and push her away, standing up to get a glass of water.

The doorbell rings and she perks up, hopping to the door and swinging it open. “Angelica, Eliza! Come in, come in. Party’s just gettin’ started,” she smiles, opening the door wider for them to enter.

You greet them with a wide smile and brief hug before getting everything all set up. Movies, snacks, alcohol, and blankets. This was going to be the best rewatch of How to lose a guy in 10 days in history.

Right when they were at the scene where they’re in the bathroom and kiss, your phone buzzed. You ignored it, assuming it would just be your iCloud telling you to update your storage. Then it buzzed again. Okay, either iCloud really wants you to make some changes or someone is a double texter.

You sigh, flipping the phone over, going to silence your notifications but the name caught your eye. Thomas. What did he want? He knew you were at girls’ night and you told him not to bother you.

Thomas: do we have any rubbing alcohol and gauze

Thomas: pls respond

You: There’s rubbing alcohol in the bathroom cabinet

You: are you okay?

You furrowed your eyebrows, worry overtaking you and your ‘Mother Mode’ (as Peggy likes to call it) kicking in.

Peggy irritably told you to get off your phone or take it in the kitchen, to which you muttered an apology then silently stood up and paced to the island counter.

Thomas: yea it’s just a scratch

Thomas: is there any possible way you could bring home gauze when you get back?

You: I’ll stop by cvs

Another sigh escapes your lips, different from the one you heaved earlier. The other was frustrated, annoyed, and ready to tell off anyone who was double-texting you. This one was impatient, anxious, and confused. Saying it’s just a scratch wasn’t much help to ease your nerves. He could be seriously hurt and just not telling you—which was most likely because you don’t need gauze for a scratch.

“Who is that?” Angelica appeared behind you, causing you to practically jump out of your skin. “Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she smiles sheepishly, refilling her cup with the spiked punch Eliza made.

“Thomas was asking if we had rubbing alcohol and gauze,” you respond, tapping your fingers nervously against your thigh.

“Oh. Is he okay?” She paused, knitting her eyebrows together.

“I don’t know, he said it was a scratch but I don’t believe him. Should I head back? We don’t have any gauze and I told him I would pick some up on the way,” you ramble, not realizing that Eliza and Peggy had entered as well. You heard an ad for insurance playing in the background.

“What’s happening?” Peggy asks.

“Y/n is debating if she should go home right now since Thomas is hurt and needs gauze,” Angelica replied for you.

“Uh oh. What happened?” Eliza winces, crossing her arms across her chest as she leans against the counter.

“I don’t know—he didn’t tell me.”

“You seem worried, maybe it would be best if you go. The movie's almost over anyway, and we’ve all seen it before,” Eliza reasons. Her sisters nod along and murmur in agreement. You sigh, biting your lower lip. If you left now you would miss the rest of girls night and you weren’t sure you wanted to ditch them like that, but if Thomas was seriously injured you might.

Despite your distaste for Thomas, if he was hurt (or anyone for that matter) you would help. Especially if they came to you asking for help. So instead of dwelling on the past and your silly emotions, you sucked in your breath and nodded.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, we can always do this again, right?” You acquiesce, grabbing your tote bag from off the counter. The other girls smile and give you short hugs so you could leave quicker.

The moment the door shut behind you, they immediately started talking again.

“I forgot she was rooming with him.” Angelica blinked.

“I know, I need to make sure Alex didn’t get into a fight with Jefferson or something,” Eliza joked, texting her fiancé off to the side.

—

“I got the gauze, Thomas, where are you?” You call out in the eerily silent apartment. There’s some shuffling before his voice rings out.

“I’m in the bathroom,” he replies. Instantly you knew something was seriously off. His tone was different than his usual laid back demeanor.

You rushed over and found the door wide open. There were a few drops of blood littered on the floor, and when your eyes met the sink where he held his bleeding hand over, your stomach dropped.

He gave a pathetic, squirmish smile as you moved over to him.

“Jesus—what did you do?” You immediately move to examine his hand, removing the soaked cloth that he held to it.

“Well,” he starts, “I was getting a drink of water and accidentally dropped the glass. It cut me when I tried to clean it up.”

You glare up at him. “Thomas, did you use your bare hands to pick up shards of glass?”

He forms his lips into a thin, awkward line. A sheepish smile spreads across his face. “Guilty.”

“You fucking idiot.” You sneer, grabbing the gauze and unfoiling some. “I was worried about you. Wash off the blood and I’ll wrap and disinfect your hand,” you sigh, and he follows your instructions.

“‘M sorry love, I didn’t mean to worry you,” he muttered.

“It-it‘s fine. Wash your hands, Thomas.” You whispered.

There was a long moment of quiet, where the only sound between you two was the running water and occasional wince from Thomas. While he did that, you put some rubbing alcohol on a wash rag.

“Hold still,” you instruct, gently dabbing the wash rag on the cut. He hissed, instinctively pulling back but your harsh glare brought him right back. After, you apply some ointment to help it heal and then wrap it in gauze, gingerly touching his wrist to signal when to turn. More examination shows he has cuts on the tips of his fingers, too, but you’d worry about that in a second.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and look up at him. He was already staring at you, and if you had to guess he’s been looking at you the whole time. His eyes delicately scanned over your features.

“Thomas?”

“Hm?” Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and he straightens up, glancing at his now bandaged hand. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Yeah. It’s fine just don’t—use your brain next time you break glass, okay?” Your breath hitched mid sentence when you realized how close you were to him, and you backed up, wiping your hands on a towel.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment more, watching you scramble out of the bathroom.

For the first time since moving in, Thomas had actually managed to leave you feeling flustered. And this time, he wasn’t even trying to.

Not my usual posts but i felt pretty proud of this one 😝😝

Also for anyone wondering — I’m working on another ch. of high and dry but it might be a week or two before it’s out !! tyyy

A Night To Remember | ch. 1

j. laurens x reader

Warnings: swearing, idk some sexual language? Whole lotta yap. Chronic overuse of italics

You work as an assistant to one of the most influential journalists in New York City. One fateful day, he invites (more tells) you to go to a ball with him and pretend to be his date. How do you manage being on the side of a very attractive businessman?

Wc: 2.6k

A/n: ahh it feels good to be back. Thanks for everyone being so supportive and kind, it really means a lot fr 🫶 enjoy

You were overwhelmed.

You woke up late, was swarmed with work, sweaty from pacing in an unairconditioned office lobby during the summer, a fresh coffee stain on your white blouse, and your boss, John Laurens, was already yelling. It was safe to say you were anxious and irritable.

“Where’s that report on the Knicks I asked for, Casey?” Laurens slammed his hands on your coworkers desk, an intimidating glare being shot at him.

John Laurens was a go-getter. A man of his word. He was confident, intelligent, wealthy, and incredibly demanding. If there was work that needed to be done, he wouldn’t leave (or let you leave) until it was finished. He was the type of guy to have motivational quotes scattered throughout the building. “Go The Extra Mile,” was one that haunted you from having to stare at it every single day. He held people accountable for their work, and he had a presence to him that made people part the hallways when he walked through.

Despite that, he was a good leader. He made sure to do his part, he always asked for the full story and listened with intent rather than jumping to conclusions, and he was open to new ideas. And he was incredibly attractive. He wasn’t too much taller than you, but he held himself with such confidence and had a lethal face card that it was impossible to not think about him in that way. And good lord those biceps. He was only a few years older than you, him being 28 and you being 25, and it didn’t help that he was exactly your type.

So working as his assistant had its pros and cons. He could be arrogant and rough at times, but hey, he looked good while doing it. Too good.

His work as the editor-in-chief for a journalism firm was your dream job. Becoming his assistant wasn’t ideal, but it was necessary if you wanted to be promoted. How he managed to become editor-in-chief at only 28 was remarkable. The man worked nonstop with one Alexander Hamilton, another notable figure in the writing world. While they took separate paths with Hamilton becoming a political figure and Laurens in journalism, both were extremely talented writers. You read and reread their essays multiple times, scanning and analyzing every word and punctuation. It was art.

But his presence as a journalist was one thing, working for him was another. They say don’t meet your heroes. Don’t work for them, either.

You eyed him cautiously, holding a cup of coffee tailored specifically for him. You were stuck on handing it to him now, or waiting until he wasn’t so fucking angry before giving it to him. He looked over Casey as he scrambled to find the papers he asked for. You drew in a sharp breath, planning to quickly hand it off to him before going to the bathroom to try and dry the stain on your chest.

Your mind was screaming how he was just going to take out his frustration on you and to wait, but your feet were carrying you towards the freckled man. His eyes shifted to you, glanced at the prominent coffee stain, to the latte in your hand, then to your exhausted face.

“Here you are, sir,” you cleared your throat, handing him the good coffee cup. The other one you had to throw away since it was now soaked into your shirt.

When getting John’s daily coffee, you made sure to order two of the exact same thing just in case something happened to his. And it worked out. After being shoulder checked by a bodybuilder, only one coffee spilled. It was supposed to be his, but you managed to save the one that was originally yours. Fortunately, you hadn’t drank from it yet since you were in such a rush.

“Thanks. You’re late,” he said gruffly, taking a sip. He examined the cup, raising an eyebrow. “I need you in my office soon.” He waved you off, turning back to Casey when he finally coughed up the Knicks report he was searching for.

“Yes, sir,” you sighed, walking off to the bathroom to grab some paper towels. The best you could do was dab most of it off, but there was still an extremely noticeable brown splotch on your shirt. Wonderful.

Laurens would be fussy if you didn’t appear in his office like he asked, so while still dabbing the paper towel on your shirt, you trudged into his office. He was sitting at his desk, going over what seemed to be Casey’s papers. He glanced up at you, then pursed his lips.

“Y/n. Sit,” he motioned to the chair across from him. You complied, tossing the paper towel in the trash and straightening up.

“Sir?”

His jaw hung open as if he were about to speak, but instead, he reached for the latte cup. He traced his finger around the rim, a soft snort escaping him. You knit your eyebrows in confusion, watching his odd actions.

“Call me, you’re cute,” he spoke. Your eyebrows flew up in surprise and you stammered to speak.

“E-excuse me?”

He turned the cup around, showing you the order sticker. It had the basic information of what the drink contained, your name, then a number with the words “call me, you’re cute” written under it, as well as a winky face. Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks as you thought back to the barista that made your drinks.

“I did not know he wrote that,” you defended quickly. His eyes held amusement as he chuckled. Embarrassment spread through you in the form of blush, though it wasn’t entirely visible.

“Maybe you should check before handing your boss a coffee that was clearly meant for you,” he teased, although it didn’t feel natural because he was such an intimidating man. He was seldom playful with you. Always serious, always working, always professional.

“I apologize. If you can’t tell, I spilt the other one all over me,” you retorted sarcastically. His eyebrows raised in surprise, and you quickly muttered out an ashamed sorry.

His eyes went to the stain on your blouse again. You shifted under his heavy gaze. It was hard to focus with him staring at you like that.

“Nevermind that,” he shook his head, finishing off the caffeine before tossing it in the trash, “read this. Tell me what you think.” He pushed the papers over to you, analyzing your facial features as you began reading.

After a few minutes of scanning the text, you frowned, setting it down. “He hit some of the key points, but he sounds pretty biased. I think he should change it to just the facts. Keep it to who won, who lost.” You handed the papers back to him.

He nodded, taking them back. “I thought the same thing. I’ll have to tell him to start over.” A frustrated sigh escaped him.

Instinctively, you stood. “Would you like me to te—“

“Sit back down, I’m not finished,” he grunted. Your jaw snapped shut and you fell back into your seat. He cleared his throat, leaning forward almost awkwardly. It was a look you never saw on him, and it made you uncomfortable knowing he was uncomfortable. ‘Oh god, is he about to lay me off?’

“What I really called you in for is to ask you to accompany me at a ball. There will be a lot of big names there. Lot of execs. I need someone to represent me, represent our company,” he explained. He shifted in his chair, eyes trained on the table.

“I’d be honored. It’s the one this Friday at 5 pm, correct? In Washington D.C.?” You asked, but you knew the answer. You made his schedule. Everything from what he was doing today to what he will do in five months is at the mercy of you.

“Right,” he started, his jaw clenching slightly, “and it’s come to my attention that it’s…appropriate to have a date. I wanted to ask if you could pose as my date for this event.”

A silence fell over you. Was he seriously asking you to be his date for this party? No, not even. He wanted you to pose as his date for the evening. Not his actual date. He’s your boss, that would be too complicated. You blinked, snapping back to reality when you realized he was waiting for your answer.

“Do I have a choice in this, or is this more of a demand?” You swallowed thickly.

“More of a demand. It’s only for a couple of days. I just need you to show up with me, speak to some important figures in the journalism world, and pretend to be my girlfriend. Not so hard, right?” He smiled sheepishly.

A scoff escaped your lips. “No, not hard at all. A little weird, sure, but nothing I can’t manage.” You shrugged, attempting to dismiss the way it felt so good to hear him say ‘my girlfriend.’

He shot you his signature smile. “Atta girl.”

Butterflies. Lots and lots of butterflies.

“We’ll discuss the finer details later.” He leaned back in his chair. “For now, go clean yourself up, and give these papers back to Casey. Also, I need you to deliver this to Lafayette’s department—“

He stacked papers on top of papers and you sighed. Back to meaningless, passionless work. You muttered out a yessir, then hopped up and carried the papers out the door.

—

“You know my boss, John Laurens?” You folded your legs on the couch, taking a hefty bite of Chinese takeout while conversing with your roommate.

“Is he the hot one? God, I wish I knew him,” Abigail sighed. You grimaced.

“Aren’t you already seeing a John? Adams, you said he was?”

“Yeah, but he’s nothing compared to the John you’re working for. That man is—damn. You got lucky. I don’t know how you haven’t tried seducing him yet.”

Your eyes widened and you sputtered out an embarrassed cough. “Abby! He’s my boss! That’s like, all kinds of wrong.”

“Okay but you have to admit it, the man is fine,” she laughed airily, watching you nearly choke on chow mein.

“…He is, but still. Not what I brought him up for.”

She cackled, leaning back in satisfaction. Abigail Smith had been your roommate—and best friend—for about four years now. Two years after moving in with her, you got a job working for Laurens. She was someone you came to trust almost instantly. Her strong character and morals attracted you to her, and she was so passionate about politics that you wondered how she wasn’t president yet. If she hadn’t been too young, she probably would be.

“What did he do this time?” She slumped further into the couch.

“He…wow, this is gonna sound crazy,” you chuckled nervously.

“Well shit, now I’m really interested! Spill.” She tossed the now-empty takeout container to the side, leaning forward with intent. You inhaled sharply, thinking over how to say your weirdly attractive boss asked you to be his fake girlfriend for the night.

“He wants me to pretend to be his date at a party,” you shrug. Abby blinks.

“That’s—that’s great! And odd? I mean, hey, one step closer to boning, amiright?” She rambled, earning a glare from you.

“Don’t,” you hissed, “it’s not like that. He wants me to show up with him, pretend to be his fucking girlfriend, and I guess that’ll impress all the executives there? I’m not sure why I have to show up as his date. Showing up as his assistant would’ve been perfectly fine.” A small frown forms on your lips as you overthink the situation.

He did say that it was ‘appropriate to have a date,’ whatever that means. His lack of elaboration really made you second guess what you’re about to get yourself into.

“Maybe he wants an excuse to touch you,” Abby suggested, a sly smirk tugging on her lips as if she were the Cheshire Cat.

“Do you have to make it more than it actually is? He just wants someone to go with him. That’s it.” You groaned.

“All I’m sayin’ is it's not completely necessary for him to have you be his date. Clearly, he’s secretly in love with you. Think about it, Y/n.”

You eyed her up and down as she tapped the side of her forehead. A sigh escaped your lips, and you let your legs fall over the couch.

“You are so delusional. It’s not like that, and never will be like that.”

“As much as you wish it was?

“Yes—wait, no!” You furrowed your eyebrows.

She snickered, watching you groan and push off the couch, walking over to the kitchen. She grabbed her trash, following after you.

“C’mon, you’re telling me no matter what happens during this little trip, you won’t feel anything?”

A pause disrupted the flow of conversation.

“Well…I’d have to be dead inside to not feel anything.” An uncomfortable look crossed your face, and you reached in the fridge for a Coke Zero in an attempt to distract yourself.

“So what’re you gonna do when the time comes around that you’re dancing together, and he’s holding you so close that you feel his heartbeat? You can deny acting on it, but you can’t deny your feelings, babe. It’s natural biology.” She crossed her arms, leaning against the counter.

You responded with a halfhearted shrug, cracking open the soda. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. Now, what’s going on with you and Adams?”

She wasn’t an idiot; she knew you were changing the subject because you’re shit at talking about uncomfortable feelings. The moment you wander into the danger zone, you step right back into comfort, effectively getting nowhere. But rather than commenting on it, she narrowed her eyes.

“Not much. He’s been busy with Jefferson and Hamilton, but we’ve got a date lined up.”

Your eyes lit up with recognition at Hamilton. His work meant so much to you, and you dreamed of the day you’d get to meet him. All you wanted was a conversation over the story of his life, as well as maybe a signature on the book he wrote that you’ve read four times now.

“Oh, yeah? Let me know when your relationship gets interesting,” you scoffed playfully. She rolled her eyes, but a smile was still on her face despite it.

—

“As you know, it’s in Washington D.C., so we’ll fly out tomorrow morning. What time was our flight at?” John watched as you rummaged through a calendar.

“Uhhh…9 am,” you replied. He hummed, leaning back in his chair. A muscle flickered in his forearm as he brought his hand up to his face.

“9 am,” he echoed, “that’s about an hour and a half flight. The ball is at what, five?”

“Six,” you corrected.

“So we’ll have the whole day to explore the city, then.” He mumbled. His eyes ran over your face, and you nodded awkwardly.

“Go home tonight and pack what you’ll need for a two day trip. Make sure you have a formal dress and heels. Red, preferably. I’ll pick you up at 7:30 so we can get to the airport and get checked in.” He spoke, leaning forward. “I’ll need your address.”

You quickly scribbled down your apartment building and the room number. He thanked you as you handed it to him. He dismissed you to go back to working and a breath of relief left your lungs.

“Oh, and one last thing,” he said, right as your hand was on the doorknob.

“Sir?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

Hey, roomie! ch. 9

thomas j. x reader

Warnings: swearing, AAAAUUGFFHFHGHHHHH

Wc: 2.5k? I think?

Your master plan backfires, cue the crying.

Notes: I think I’m gonna write one more chapter after this and be done, enjoy

Equipped with the new realization that you have a crush and that crush may like you back, you didn’t know how to feel.

You had a date lined up tomorrow night with Samuel who was turning out to be a really pleasant guy, and you couldn’t just ditch him. You were in too deep, and now you have to crawl out of the hole that kept digging itself deeper and deeper.

Options were limited. You could either ditch Samuel for Thomas and confess as soon as possible, or you could show up and let Samuel down gently. Tell him nicely during the dinner that you weren’t feeling it, and you would prefer to stay friends more than anything.

You figured the latter was the safer option. And maybe you wanted to see if Thomas would get jealous.

It was all so obvious to you now. The flirting, the kiss, the pet names, the lingering stares and touches. All of it meant something to you at least. A nagging thought in the back of your mind kept whispering that was just who he is, and if he really liked you then he would tell you himself.

He is a natural flirt, after all. And he does sleep with women on a regular basis, although he’s slowed it down, and come to think of it he hasn’t brought anyone back in a couple months.

What didn’t make sense to you is why would he help you get a boyfriend if he (maybe) liked you? He offered to give you advice, and he watched you walk up to guys to be their potential lover. Would that not hurt? Or did he not like you then and start liking you sooner?

Did he even like you in the first place?

Lafayette didn’t give you a clear answer. All he gave was a hint for you to solve this puzzle by your lonesome. You just assumed that the man you’ve been secretly pining for has secretly been pining for you as well.

You rushed home from Lafayette's apartment building, no clear goal in mind. Your heart was racing and hands were shaking at the thought of seeing Thomas.

The drive home was spent procrastinating as much as possible. In fact, you made a stop at Target to shop for yourself and pick up some things you know he likes. Try and butter him up a little, y’know?

While picking up ingredients for macaroni and cheese, a philosophy book he's been itching to read, and a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, you thought about the advice he had given you. Be a better listener, be polite, be authentic, be confident, and compliment him.

You wondered if you tried those tactics on him, would he fall for you?

No other way of knowing then to do it, you decided. If you were subtle enough, you could pull this off. You totally could.

—

Lafayette called Thomas the moment you exited his apartment. Neither would ever tell you that, of course, but he still had to fill in his friend on what went down.

He didn’t say that he told you you’re the only girl Thomas has talked about, but he implied that he merely suggested you both have feelings for each other. Thomas was a little pissed that Lafayette almost said something he shouldn’t have, but in his defense he’s been in the middle of this drama for way too long, and he is sick and tired of it.

So when you got home, Thomas wasn't surprised to see how anxious you were. After having an awakening on your attraction, he’d be having one too. He was surprised that you picked up the things he loves. It was sweet. There weren’t many times you did things like this for him.

“You got stuff for mac ‘n cheese? And you got The Alchemist? Sweetheart, you know me too well,” he grinned, taking the book from the target bag and flipping through the pages.

“Not only that, but I got ice cream.” You pulled out the frozen tub of sugar and milk. His face lit up.

“Am I dying or somethin’? Or do you just really love me?” The words rolled off his tongue so naturally it felt like you really did love him. It made your stomach flutter with excitement, and you couldn’t suppress the smile growing on your lips.

“Just wanted to do something nice.” You shrug, putting away the groceries.

“This is seriously the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.” He stared down at the book, softness in his voice and an even softer smile.

“Really? You say that as if I just saved you from drowning. Seriously, all I did was buy you some stuff,” you scoff.

He shook his head. “It’s not the items you bought. It’s the fact you remembered and cared enough to buy them for me.”

Your movements slowed. That statement alone made your heart hurt. He was so sincere, no one has ever done this for him before. It made you want to go out and buy the whole world for him if it made him happy.

“…I’m glad you like it,” you say slowly and gently.

His eyes lingered on you a moment more—a different tone to them. They flashed from something darker to adoration to sadness, then back to normal.

It made you second guess your thoughts of going out with Samuel. But then again, you still had no definitive proof that Thomas likes you back. Maybe him and Lafayette were just fucking with you, because why not?

The silence that consumed you was spent choosing your next words carefully. How to break it to him that you were going out tomorrow night with another man. You envisioned how he would react; would he show clear signs of jealousy? Maybe distance himself a little? Be angry or upset?

You hoped for nothing too strong, because you had it all planned out. After going to dinner with Samuel, you’d come home claiming you realized you’ve been in love with Thomas this whole time, and would much rather spend that time with him instead. Then he confesses his undying love for you and you kiss, and you both live happily ever after. The End.

At least, that’s how your fantasy went. Of course you couldn’t control how either Samuel or Thomas would react, and if Thomas would be happy that you bailed on your date to reunite with him. You could only hope.

You cleared your throat, nerves immediately starting up again. “Did I ever tell you about Samuel?”

He was turned around, so you missed the scowl on his face. “No. Is he nice?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty sweet, calls me pretty ‘n whatnot. He’s cute.”

“I’m pretty sweet and cute, too,” he grunts.

“Never said you weren’t, sweetheart,” you laugh, walking around the counter to face him.

“You can’t use my own pet name against me!” He gasps dramatically.

A sickeningly sweet smile crawls on your lips. “All is fair in love and war.” He shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips and you knew you were about to wipe it off his face from the news about to drop. You bit your lower lip and prepared for battle.

“I uh, have a date with him tomorrow night,” you cleared your throat, the confidence that had built up from the playful banter diminishing. “Thought I should let you know.”

He nodded, avoiding your gaze, and looked like you just punched him in the stomach. “Have fun. Remember what I told you.”

“How could I ever forget your wise wise wisdom?” You attempted to lighten the mood, but he never did laugh.

Instead, he forced a smile that failed to reach his eyes and sucked in a breath. “I told you I was a good teacher, didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

And he walked off, book in hand and mumbling something about how he wanted to go read it. You nodded and let him escape the awkward conversation of your love life. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that what you were doing was wrong. It clearly upset him, and a sick part of you was curious to know if he would be, but now that you have your answer you wish you hadn’t said anything to begin with.

—

The date was only an hour from now. You had already picked out what you were gonna wear. He was taking you to a semi-nice restaurant called the White Stallion and advised you to dress nice.

You were in the middle of doing your hair and makeup, smoothing out any loose baby hairs and touching up mascara. The clock kept ticking as you continued getting ready, ensuring your go-to black dress fit right. It always did. The vanilla-coconut perfume filled your senses, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t help but over think how wrong this is.

You drew in a sharp breath, clipping the necklace on your neck and eventually the earrings, and walked into the living room. Thomas was sitting on the couch, munching on the ice cream you bought him.

He froze when he saw you, his eyes trailing over your outfit. The face he made yesterday when you told him you’d be going on a date with Samuel—the one where he looked like you punched him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him—haunted you. Because it was back, and this time a flicker of sadness flashed in his eyes.

“Do I look okay? Does it look like I’m trying too hard?” You ask, worry furrowed deep in your eyebrows.

“No, you look perfect.”

Now it was your turn to have the wind knocked out of you. The words were a direct elbow, punch, and kick to your stomach. You nodded, thanking him and nervously fidgeting with your hands.

Of course you were going out with another guy. What Lafayette had told you the previous day must’ve meant nothing to you, because if it did, surely you wouldn’t be walking out the door, about to meet up with someone other than Thomas. Then again, he didn’t know about your mastermind plan (it was actually really fucking stupid and had a 99% chance at failure, but you like to think it will work).

Samuel was outside waiting to pick you up. His pale skin flushed completely red when he laid eyes on you, following it up with how beautiful you looked. You thanked him and tried to feel complimented from it, but it didn’t have the same ring to it when Thomas said you looked perfect.

The drive was about fifteen minutes—it was filled with listening to Laufey, Radiohead, and The Cranberries. Male manipulator music, you deemed. But he had good stories and was genuinely interested in what you had to say, which only added to the guilt of knowing you were to reject him later that night.

When you arrived, he informed the hostess of a reservation for two. She led you to the table, and almost immediately a waiter came and set down a basket of bread and butter. The fancy, brown seeded bread, too.

“This is really nice, Samuel, thank you.” You smiled awkwardly. He lit up, a beaming grin on his face.

“Consider it just the first of many,” he winked. Bold.

“Haha, yeah…” you trailed off awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. God, could you be any more obvious? To avoid this issue, you peered into the menu, eyes scanning over the options and their expensive prices.

He must’ve noticed the shift in your demeanor, because his smile faltered slightly. It was back when the same waiter from before asked for drinks and your order.

You ordered the cheapest thing and a water, and didn’t pay much attention to what Samuel got. You had to prepare yourself for the heart-wrenching news you would eventually tell him.

Wow, this would be harder than you thought.

The end of the night came around. Too slowly, you thought, but it happened. And in the events leading up to it, you felt like a bigger and bigger dick. Every compliment replied with a fake laugh just made you want to rip your heart out.

You split the bill since there was no way in hell you’d let him pay for all of that, even if he insisted that he should pay. You were about to tell him outside his car, but figured it would be better to wait til he dropped you off at your place to save for an awkward ride.

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“Do you maybe want to go back to mine?” He asked, a twinkle of heat in his eyes as his hands gripped the steering wheel.

Fuck.

“Ah—Sam, I…” you winced.

“We don’t have to, I’m sorry for asking,” he added quickly.

“Sam, as nice as you are—and trust me, you are—I think we would be better friends than anything.”

He paused. “Ouch, okay,” he breathed out. “If that’s what you want.” A short response, but you didn’t mind. He turned up the radio louder, Paranoid Android blasting from the speakers. The rest of the ride was dead silent. And extremely awkward.

“What made you change your mind?” He broke the silence.

“I’ll answer this truthfully since I feel like you deserve an honest answer,” you sigh. “My roommate, Thomas. I didn’t think I would, but I’ve really grown to like him. Love him, even.” You ramble. He keeps his eyes set on the road and nods.

“I kind of had a sneaking suspicion. The way you talked of him…it was so fond. I knew there was no way you hadn’t had some sort of attraction to him.” He turns into your apartment building parking lot.

“Was it that obvious..?” You muttered, gathering your purse and stepping out of the car. He laughed out a yes. “Well, either way, thank you for dinner and taking me home. I’m really sorry it had to end this way.”

“It’s quite alright,” he smiled sadly. “Have a good night.”

And with that, he drove off, leaving you stranded in the empty parking lot. You sucked in a breath and headed up the flight of stairs since the elevator has been under maintenance for months now.

Catching your breath and calming your nerves, you unlocked the door and opened it softly. The words you planned to say replayed in your mind over and over, although in the moment you’d likely forget your preparation.

“Thom—“

You froze.

There on the couch, Thomas sat with another woman in his lap, kissing him fiercely. Both were only in their undergarments, and his hands were in places you wished they weren’t.

Thomas unlatched from her with a gasp of surprise, craning his neck to look at you.

“Y/n—“ he started, but you stopped him.

“I’m sorry for intruding. I didn’t know you had…company over.” You croak out, stepping out of the apartment.

You couldn’t stop the flow of tears that burst from your eyes as you hurried downstairs.

You were wrong. He didn’t like you, he was about to fuck another woman, and now you didn’t know what to do.

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💕

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.