Hey, Roomie! Ch. 8?

High and Dry | ch. 2

thomas j. x reader

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

Wc: 2.7k

Holy moly this took longer than expected

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

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

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

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

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

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

It broke you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He missed his best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Funny,” you scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad you finally noticed.”

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

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

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

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

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

The silence was deafening.

It was always, always silent in your life.

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

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

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

Do yk what high and dry chp.2 is coming out? TAKE YOUR TIME!! NO RUSH.!!

Probably sometime this week, I’m like halfway thru a chapter rn

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?

*flowers* And now we wait😼

(happy valentine's 👍)

HAPPY VALENTINES!!! I’m currently working on a laf/reader bc I’m lowk getting tired of writing for Thomas 🥰🥰 HOPE Y’ALL HAD A GREAT DAY❤️💕🫶

Masterlist

Hamilton

T. Jefferson

Hey, roomie! | one two three four five six seven eight nine ten bonus snippet [COMPLETED]

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

Always | one [COMPLETED]

Soulmates are tied by having the song of whatever the other is listening to written on your wrist. So what happens when you realize your soulmate is the man you deemed arrogant, annoying, and conceited?

High and Dry | one two three four [ONGOING]

When starting your fourth year of teaching at a new high school, you come face to face with your old friend-turned-enemy: Thomas Jefferson. To make it worse, he’s the other English teacher you’re supposed to work with the whole year. (Rewritten version)

M. De Lafayette

Baby I’m Yours | one [COMPLETED]

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

J. Laurens

A Night To Remember | one two three [ONGOING]

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?

Requests are open! I cannot guarantee I will get to all of them or do them. But yk. Always nice to try, right?

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 🫶

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

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💕

The latest chapter should be labeled as murder for ripping my heart into shreds 💔💔

I’ll put it back together don’t worry 😉

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?”