Pairing: wouldn’t u like to know jk it’s Thomas Jefferson x Reader with a surprise
World: Modern AU
Warning: Sexy, sexy things in here mhm (not smut tho, but pretty suggestive), also profanity and actual dickbaggery, angst
A/N: Hey hey hey hey hey so on this episode of “shouldn’t be writing this because I have requests to fill but still wrote it anyway” So I’ve been listening to my old music playlist back in 2010-ish? and ya kno how teenagers are w their edgy music and #Relatable lyrics. This fic was the love child of listening to All American Rejects and Fall Out Boy. Points if you can guess which songs inspired these lmao
Thomas groaned in pleasure, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you peppered kisses down his jaw to his neck. God, you were beautiful. So, so beautiful.
“Who has to know?”
You murmured against his skin as you mounted him, your black-lined eyes half-lidded and the stink of alcohol unmistakably heavy on your breath.
He knew this was just a one-night stand. A rebound. And he was perfectly fine with that. Your ex, Alexander Hamilton, had actually grown a pair big enough to come crawling back to Eliza, the woman he cheated on, leaving you to rot in your head for weeks on end.
You had planned on sulking around your apartment watching Friends reruns and binging on ice cream. Thomas had suggested getting drinks.
“He told me he would make it right with me.” You had sobbed into your multicolored drink, tears smudging your mascara somewhat. Your dark-skinned companion tried not to stare too much, but found that he couldn’t help it. You were mesmerizing even when you looked like a blotchy raccoon. His heart clenched. “He said he envisioned a future with me! A family an-and kids!”
“Hamilton’s an idiot, [F/Name].” He murmured matter-of-factly, instinctively using his thumb to wipe your tears away. He felt her skin jump at the contact. “He had the most scintillating woman in New York City, and he let it go. It’s his loss.”
His breath hitched when you looked up at him through damp lashes, still managing to look enticing despite crying for over three hours. His mind went into overdrive, desperately trying to keep the trickle of feelings at bay.
He watched with controlled interest as you worried your bottom lip, his heart beat pounding loudly in his ears. He can’t allow himself to give in. It was better this way, he chanted in his head like a mantra.
But oh, how her eyes shined iridescent against the dark.
“Would you have done the same, Thomas?” You whispered, leaning into him ever so slightly. His control was hanging by a thread. “Would you have left me like he did?”
He stared into your eyes once more, losing himself in them as he all but gave in to his desires.
“Never.” He whispered, voice strained and thick with want.
You closed the gap between you two, pressing your lips hungrily against his. You needed the friction, the intimacy. You wanted to feel wanted. And when you reached completion late into the night, your head thrown back in bliss as his hands still gripped your hips tightly, you’d like to think you were.
You never saw him around in the weeks following your drunken tryst. It was as if he never existed. He wasn’t in his apartment, or his favorite bar, or the library. You even tried visiting his workplace, but all you got was his secretary telling you he had opted to work from home.
Oh.
The silent walk back to your apartment was filled with sniffling and attempts to choke back your sobs, going through your memories of that night.
Did you say anything wrong? Was the sex bad? He had seemed so eager to bed you, and the morning after was spent lazing around and cuddling his apartment. What did you do? What changed that night after you went home?
You tried to ignore the tightening in your chest as you reached the front steps of your apartment building, but there was only so much you could do to reign in your emotions. Collapsing onto the steps, you sobbed uncontrollably into your hands.
Why is this happening to you? Didn’t Thomas like you? Didn’t Alexander like you? Did anyone like you?
“[F/Name]?”
You looked up from your pathetic, curled position, tears still streaming down your cheeks. Your heart seemed to heal instantly as you recognized those head of curls.
“Thomas.”
Thomas Jefferson was not an emotionally intelligent man.
He was cunning, and crafty, and wise beyond his years. But you’d be damned to think he was, in any way, in complete control of anything that doesn’t involve his head.
After your pity romp, he was a mess. The moment you kissed him had opened the dam that held all the things he felt for you at bay. It flooded out into every kiss, every stroke, every breathy moan he made because of your ministrations. It seeped into everything he touched.
And he was terrified.
He wanted to be with you every second of every day so badly it hurt. He wanted to care for you, support you. Be the reason for your smiles and laughter. The need to be yours never used to be this intense. It was jarring.
So he left.
It was much easier to be your friend. He could occasionally flirt with you without consequence, and you could spill every thought and opinion to him when even Alexander had trouble wheedling it out of you. Nothing was complicated, nothing was at stake. You both worked better that way. It was better that way.
Wasn’t it?
A month had passed, then two, into his self-imposed isolation and he began to doubt himself. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had let himself overthink your situation. But…
God, he was a jackass.
He had left you. You came to him in your hour of need and he took advantage of it. He left you for dead after being so intimate with you. You needed him, you were in pieces. And he left you.
You probably hated him. No, he was sure you hated him. With everything he’s done, he wouldn’t be surprised. He left you after explicitly saying he wouldn’t.
He’s definitely fucked up this time.
Grabbing his jacket, he made his way to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to do, or how to do it, he just knew he needed to make this right somehow.
You nervously picked at the assortment of flowers on your lap, your stomach churning with anticipation and nerves. Of course, you’ve practiced this whole thing plenty of times before. But actually being here, today, was definitely more than you bargained for.
“Hey,” You turned your head to acknowledge the voice, smiling slightly as you see the familiar face of James Madison. “It seems like almost everyone is here.”
The smile on your face was shaky at best, the anxiety in your eyes shining through. “Yeah? That’s-that’s good…”
James smiled at you reassuringly before stepping into the backseat with you. His warm presence enveloped the car, giving you a slight confidence boost. “You’re nervous.”
You laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s normal.” He answered, taking the bouquet from you before you pluck all the petals out. “What’s worrying you?”
“God,” Exhaling, you looked up, tears inexplicably welling in your eyes. “I don’t- This is insane. I never would have thought…”
The man beside you simply nodded in response, letting you have the moment to express yourself.
“Two years ago, I never would have imagined…” You trailed off, fanning your face in an attempt to blink back tears. “He’s everything I’ve hoped for and more, James. I-I’m scared that I’ll wake up and find myself on the front steps of my old apartment again…”
You were seated on a park bench, sun shining like a halo on you, as Thomas watched you laugh. Your hair fluttered gracefully as you threw your head back. He smiled, memorizing every curve and hollow of your face. He reveled in the fact that he was right. You were beautiful through and through.
His hand wandered slyly to your thigh, making you turn to him with an unreadable gaze. He smiled innocently, those pearly whites of his shining unabashedly. You rolled your eyes as your hands found his and laced your fingers together.
How could he have been that lucky?
He leaned over and whispered in your ear, causing you to turn red and shift in your seat. He pulled away to look at you, his eyes darkening with desire. Oh, how he wished to be the friction in those jeans you wore.
You leaned in to press a passionate kiss on his lips, your hands coming up to cradle his cheeks. He pulled you closer by the waist, nibbling on your bottom lip gently before separating.
With the grace of a cat, he pulled you up with him and brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, murmuring how he wanted to get you home and in bed as soon as possible.
How could you have been this lucky?
James led you to the huge cathedral doors, your gown flowing easily around you, while the veil you wore drifted to and fro at every move you made.
“Are you ready, [F/Name]?” You looked up as a fresh pool of tears made its way to your eyes.
“Thank you, Jemmy… For everything.” You whispered, throwing your arms around him in a tight, tearful hug. He returned the hug just as fiercely, your head tucked under his chin.
“I would never leave you alone like that, [F/Name].” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion and an edge you couldn’t describe. “Now go, Mulligan is waiting to walk you down the aisle.”
Nodding, you reluctantly let go of the man you had quickly considered a best friend within the two years you’ve known each other for. Straightening your back, you walked through the cathedral doors, entering the small lobby just before the main hall.
“And [F/Name].” James called out, causing you to turn slightly while Hercules fussed with your gown. “Remember, this is real. It’s real, and you deserve this.”
You beamed at him, watery and emotional, before being led away.
James stared into the cathedral, watching you float down the aisle like a cloud. Your back was turned to him but he could feel the happiness radiating from you as you passed friends and family.
A few seconds later, without as much as a turn of his head, he called out a name that hasn’t crossed his lips for a while now.
“Thomas.”
Without missing a beat, a figure loomed behind the smaller man before taking his place beside him.
“James.”
The Virginian, like his companion, stared straight into the cathedral, watching you finally reach the man who had helped you pick up the pieces. The man he saw making you laugh that day at the park. The lucky bastard who now gets to spend his days with you, build a family with you, grow old with you. All the things Thomas could now only dream about.
“Gilbert will make her happy.” James said, as if hearing the other man’s thoughts. They always did have an unnerving knack for reading the other. Thomas rolled his eyes.
“He has the most scintillating woman in New York City. Of course he’ll make her happy. He’d be an idiot not to…”
The other man said nothing, merely coughing into his handkerchief as silence fell over the pair of them.
“You know why she’s taken such a liking to him, right?”
Thomas opted not to reply, instead choosing to watch you recite your vows. He knew you were beautiful even on a normal day, but today you were simply breathtaking, even from his perch by the large, ornate doors. What he wouldn’t do to be the man standing at the altar with you.
“You left a bad taste in her mouth, Thomas.” They continued to watch the wedding, watched as you exchanged rings, watched as the priest gave people like Thomas a chance to speak. “Gilbert… He’s just like you. Only, sweeter.”
Silence filled the air of the cathedral as they waited for anyone to protest the union.
Thomas finally turned to James, his eyes brimming with tears as a few already trailed down his cheeks.
john laurens. knows swear words in like ten different languages. freckles. his entire face lights up when he laughs. always talking, no matter who’s in the room. the mastermind behind all pranks; he finds loopholes and makes plans, then smooth-talks them all out of trouble. only drinks three things; water, orange juice and sam adams beer. constantly cold despite his multiple layers of clothing. insomniac. really likes showers. gentle, kind, compassionate; but also, devious, snarky, stubborn. science connoisseur. loves taking pictures of the hamilsquad doing simple things. flirts with everyone and everything when he’s drunk. so, so grateful for his best friends. always playing old music on his record-player in the dorm. perfectly okay with being unnoticed, as long as he still has his friends at his side. gets bored easily when watching movies, unless it’s star wars or harry potter. curls around the closest pillow or person when he’s asleep. couldn’t care less if his shirt is buttoned or if his tie is straight, and never bothers to retie his shoelaces. always gives meaningful, personal gifts. has a sense of domesticity about him; he can make a foreign room seem like home. too preoccupied to tidy up after himself, so the area around his bed is always cluttered and disorganized. when he gets an idea or is brainstorming, his mind moves a million miles an hour and its impossible to stop him. the most articulate of the group; he could make the simplest sentence sound like poetry. really good at drawing, but doesn’t usually do it. loves biology, especially if it’s marine biology. can’t even bother with physics, though. content in silence, but he finds it strange when he can’t hear his best friends arguing over something in the background. tries to notice every little thing, even if it’s just the way his friend’s eyes look just a little brighter when they laugh.
A/N: Just wanted to project my own grief and inner turmoil in an inconspicuous manner like say fi c t io n?
Enjoy~
“A toast to the groom,” You slurred, raising a bottle of whiskey you had snatched off of your father’s stash. “To the bride.”
Was the room supposed to tilt this way? It almost felt like you were sinking. Nonetheless, you carried on with your speech.
“From your best friend,” If you focused hard enough, you could almost make out their faces. “Who was always by your side…”
You attempted to lean against a table for support but were surprised to find nothing there to brace your weight. Your inebriated self tumbled to the floor, the skirts of your gown thankfully cushioning you from the fall.
“To your union, and the hope that you provide…”
You were still on the floor. The room spun before your eyes as you laid there.
You weakly raised the bottle.
“May you always be satisfied.”
Silence greeted your words, the dark and desolate room swallowing the noise almost immediately as it left your lips. Your eyes surveyed what it could from your vantage point. There was your dresser and your window seat and your bookshelf with your little ornate box of letters…
A strangled sob left your lips as you gingerly propped yourself up.
You were a wreck. A mess. Your dress was soiled from the alcohol and dusty floors, your hair falling from its previously elegant bun. And, you couldn’t see it, but you knew the make up on your face was smudged and runny. Christ. Alexander would hate to see you like this.
A beat.
You laughed at the thought. A bitter, broken chuckle that almost bordered hysterical as your hand came up to grip your hair.
Alexander Hamilton.
Your mind ran through all the memories you had together, lingering on the moments his smiles and gaze were directed only to you. You almost smiled back in return.
Then you remembered that night, that one night that has haunted you through your waking days. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if the action could somehow force your brain to stop thinking.
That damned Winter’s ball and its prized jewels; the Schuyler Sisters.
You stared into the bottle of whiskey again as you felt anger and helplessness rise up within you. In the dim of night, you could barely make out your reflection in the amber liquid.
It had been a starry night, that night.
The wind was nothing but a chilly breeze, the pure, driven snow transforming the city into a magnificently magical landscape.
The Schuyler’s manor, in its entire splendor, was even grander than it normally was. It seemed to reflect the glittering winter wonderland outside, while still projecting an air of warmth and grandeur. A detail that deeply awed and excited the guests.
The ballroom was abuzz with the whispers of appreciation for the venue; the food was in such an appetizing display, the orchestra playing the most angelic tunes, and of course, everyone dressed to the nines in their best finery.
It was certainly one way to throw a ball.
But you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped you; earning you a few looks from the ladies you were begrudgingly standing around with. Everything about this ball was beautiful, but there was something missing.
Or, rather, someone.
“May I have the honor of sharing this dance with you, my lady?”
Speak of the devil.
You quickly turned away from the circle of gossipy women, a beaming smile radiating off your face as the fabric of your skirt swished and billowed around you.
“Alexander!”
“At your service,” The Caribbean replied with a flourish of his hand. “I’d apologize for being late but you seem to be having the time of your life.”
You rolled your eyes at his teasing.
He, of all people, knew how uncomfortable you felt socializing with those who considered themselves “old money”.
“It’s been awful, Alexander.” You smacked him lightly on his arm as he’s leading you onto the dance floor. “They’ve been pestering me about courtship and marriage nonstop.”
Your partner laughed as he twirled you around. “Sounds like an interesting way to spend the night.”
“Don’t get me started, Alex. One even told me that I’m soon past my prime for popping babies, like they were talking about the weather! The nerve!”
The two of you spent a few songs like that, just laughing and catching up. He would lead you into graceful dips and turns, his eyes never leaving yours as you moved through the ballroom. His arms were protectively situated around your waist.
It was perfect. The ambiance, the looks, the way he held you close to him during a particularly slow song… You couldn’t help but fall even harder for the young writer.
Your eyes found his again before noticing how close the two of you had actually gotten. It was close enough to be considered improper, but you didn’t move away. His face was so close. Too close. Almost as if you could just lean in and…
“Ladies and Gentlemen!”
The music lulled to a softer and quieter song as a booming voice announced its presence. You and Alexander separated quickly, a crowd gathering around you. Your cheeks burned and your lips tingled in disappointment. Were you really just about to…
Whispers drifted to your ears like a breeze. Seems like Philip Schuyler was about to introduce his daughters. He appears to be thanking everyone present but your attention was diverted to searching the crowd for the man you almost just kissed. He was suddenly gone from your side.
“-Angelica, Elizabeth, and Margarita Schuyler!”
The whole ballroom was thrown into a frenzy of murmurs. The Schuyler sisters were beyond stunning to look at. They seemed to float through the stairs leading into the ballroom, their whole appearance wonderfully dream-like. But you were still focused on looking for your dear Alexander.
“If you could marry a sister, you’re rich, son.” Your ears perked up at the dialogue. While that was true, you couldn’t believe the impropriety of the scoundrel who said it. As if all there was to the sisters were their fortune.
“Is it a matter of ‘if’, Burr, or ‘which one’?”
You stopped in your tracks as you heard the reply. You would know that voice anywhere.
Suddenly, your whole body felt like it was doused in cold water, seized by the icy claws of dread. He wouldn’t.
You looked to where you heard the voices, your gaze zeroing in on the man you’ve pined for for years. He was talking to a looming fellow with a wolfish grin.
You made your way to him.
“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.”
You hadn’t realized it yet, but you had made the mistake of turning to face whoever was addressing you. He stood, no, towered, over you in his soldier’s regalia; a charming smile stretching his lips when you turned around.
“Um.. yes..?”
He held out his hand to you, a hopeful look in his sparkling brown eyes.
“May I ‘ave this ‘onor of dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room?”
Your face flushed red at the compliment. Of course, propriety dictated you to say yes to the man in front of you, lest you draw rumors to yourself and shame to your family. But you were still yearning to be back in someone else’s arms.
“I-I.. um..”
You stared at his hand before turning your head just in time to see Alexander kiss Angelica Schuyler’s hand. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. God, you were done for.
Defeatedly, you placed your hand gingerly on top of the man’s outstretched one.
“The honor is mine, sir.”
“Please, call me Gilbert.”
You laughed to yourself; suddenly back in the pitch black darkness of your room. You should have just continued on. You should have just pretended to not have heard the Frenchman. Maybe then, you could have stopped all this.
Taking a long swig from the bottle in your hands, you thought to yourself how you couldn’t have done that to Lafayette. He was a good man. He hadn’t known many people at the ball, and took a chance with asking you to dance with him. So you did. Even though you knew he could have gotten any girl to dance with him without really trying.
He was an absolute gentleman. You had no doubt your parents would have loved him. Despite struggling to speak your language, his wit and affability was boundless as you waltzed across the room.
The Marquis ended up monopolizing you the whole night.
You didn’t mind, though the emptiness in your chest screamed otherwise. He was decent company; attentive, witty, and well-meaning. He even introduced you to his friends at one point.
And just your luck, one of them happened to be the very man you were enamored with.
“Mon ami!” Lafayette exclaimed as he lead you to Alexander, his hand sitting atop the one you had resting on his arm. “I ‘ave not seen you all night, my friend! I wanted to introduce you to cette belle femme!”
Your smile refused to reach your eyes as Alexander greeted you and informed Lafayette he did, in fact, know you.
Elizabeth Schuyler was on his arm, her face positively glowing with adoration. It didn’t take an expert to see that she was absolutely helpless for him. After all, that must’ve been how you looked like when you met him all those years ago.
You gave her a weak hello, willing to the gods your voice didn’t sound as shaky as you felt, before your respective partners lead you back onto the dance floor.
You never saw Alexander again after that night.
Not during your weekly strolls through the market, not at your porch looking for another book to borrow, not even at the local bar he loved to frequent. He just… disappeared. Weeks rolled by with no word from him, no letter. Just the old ones you hid in your little ornate box that you took to rereading.
That was, until a letter finally arrived for you in the form of an invitation to a wedding reception. You had choked back a sob, feeling dismayed. Cheated. Absolutely betrayed that your closest friend, and longest love, had gone and gotten married.
Your chest tightened and ached at the thought. It was a fundamental truth that Alexander never saw you as more than a friend. A sister, perhaps, but never the woman he would spend his life with. Raise a family with. You were smart, sharp-tongued, and rebellious. Quick-witted and determined, just like him.
You knew he saw you as an equal, but not through your merits. You were an equal, but like looking in a mirror. You were too much like him, and you supposed it was why your relationship would never have worked. He was always trying to outrun his situation, his past. Himself. And you were someone he saw himself in.
And now here you were, at home, hours before the festivities were set to cease, sniffling into a bottle of burning hard liquor instead of wishing your best friend the best in his new life. Like Angelica had done for her sister, Elizabeth, a woman filled with wit and intelligence, but also patience and compassion. A perfect match for your Alexander.
“And I know,” You whispered to yourself, imagining their ongoing celebration with a heavy heart. Wishing for once that you could swap truths with lies for once. “She’ll be happy as his bride.”
“And I know,” Your heart splintered and cracked, your voice breaking as another sob ripped through you. “He will never be satisfied.”
Warnings: Casual mention of sex, but otherwise, none i believe. c:
Prompt from: @dailyau “You bake when you’re stressed and sometimes you give me cookies, but recently you’re giving me whole baskets each day, now I’m not complaining but are you okay?”
A/N: I saw this prompt and Laf stress baking popped into my head. :^)
Enjoy~
Most people get excited at the thought of weekends, or the changing seasons, or seeing their loved ones after some time apart. Kids were usually excited for snowfall, and employees more or less looked forward to payday.
In college, it was a little harder to see such joy with thousands of disheveled, sleep-deprived students milling about. It was as if all jubilation or life was being sucked into a black hole.
However, you seemed to see excitement, even just a little bit, nearly everyday on campus; a group of students rejoicing a good grade on a project, that little gleam in someone’s eyes when they’re the first at the coffee stall, the low buzzing when a class realizes it’s only a few minutes left until their professor is officially declared absent.
Your friends were also a big factor in why you saw such enthusiasm in your life. They were quite excitable over many things–Alexander, especially. The man can find joy even in the smallest of victories, like snagging Jefferson’s unofficial official seat in class.
As for you? Now, this might sound scandalous but hear this out; you were actually kind of maybe looking forward to finals.
You smiled as you opened the locker you virtually shared with the ever charming Gilbert du Motier du Lafayette, finding a neatly wrapped box of fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies. You had given him your locker code for convenience, after a year of him trying to find you during finals week to hand you the precious little treats.
You sniffed the still-warm cookies before bringing one to your mouth. This always happens whenever deadlines loomed in the distance.
Your locker-mate was always so jittery around this time, which is why this glorious box of warmth and happiness was sitting in your hands. Lafayette often baked whenever he’s stressing out, which was mostly during midterms and finals. He claims his whole body feels too restless to concentrate on any of the material he’s studying for, so he takes to the kitchen.
He usually shares his creations with the gang, but he seems to always make an extra batch just for you. And who were you to complain? You get free sugar during the hell weeks to come, and indirectly stop your friend from ripping his hair out.
You stared in absolute confusion at the large tubs of cookies sitting in your locker.
Now, you weren’t trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, and you usually scoffed whenever anyone told you that there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. Because food is always a good idea, and you were a very hungry, very tired, very stressed out college student.
But this was too much. It’s ridiculous. It’s madness.
There were two large buckets of cookies in your locker. Two. Large. Buckets. Filled to the brim with fluffy chocolate chip cookies. It had been this way since the first box of baked goods a couple of weeks ago, but this is the first time he actually managed to fill up two whole tins. What was Laf doing? Is he secretly producing goods for a wholesale supplier? Your books were practically non-existent now!
Actually…
You scooted the tubs to the side–with a little difficulty, mind you–and exhaled slowly.
Your books were practically non-existent because they were gone.
There was only one person who had access to this locker, and you were pretty sure said person was holding your books hostage. You slammed the locker closed, before quickly opening it again.
Okay, so you weren’t really mad.
You scooped a couple of cookies from one of the containers and munched on one. Your next class didn’t start until after lunch, and it was only 10am. Plenty of time to gather your books from your clearly very frazzled friend.
“Hey, are you selling those?”
You turned around in surprise, cookie still in your mouth, seeing a group of students (Freshmen, maybe? They didn’t look like they wanted to die just yet) peering into your locker.
“Uh… S-…ure?”
“Awesome! How much are you charging?”
Huh.
Well, like you said, you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Laf, we need to talk.”
You were now sitting in front of the man who single-handedly turned your locker into some kind of black market cookie factory. Turns out, those kids who bought a handful of the cookies attracted more exhausted students looking to get their sugar fix on the way to class. It even got enough traction that at some point, someone from the administration was sent to put a stop to your little unlicensed business, but ended up buying a couple of the treats himself.
All in all, it was a pretty wild ride and ultimately delayed you from seeking out your book kidnapper.
“Chérie, not now, I have a paper due at 4pm and I have no idea how to conclude it.”
“Laf, I know you bake when you’re stressed and sometimes-“ You coughed ‘always’ into your hand “-you give me cookies, but recently you’re giving me whole baskets each day.”
You don’t know what did it, but you seemed to have the tanned man’s undivided attention now. You squinted at him, seeing how the color drained from his face, and how his eyes seemed to scream for help. It was hilarious, if not for the dirty hobo look he was sporting. His beard seemed scruffier than usual, and his cute little man bun was beginning to droop.
So you decided to proceed cautiously.
“Now, I’m not complaining but are you okay?”
After long stare off between you two, he cleared his throat, turning back to his laptop. “I’m fine, ma belle. Like you said, I am very stressed. I have 3 deadlines this week and I haven’t-“
“You know you bounce your leg up and down when you lie, right?”
His face colored at being caught, an awkward laugh escaping his soft, plump lips. “Okay, I lied. I have 2 deadlines-“
“Gilbert.”
His breath hitched as you enunciated his name like that. God, he could listen to you all day. Not to mention you were really adorable when you were trying to figure him out. He found himself stifling a smile despite the situation, before remembering why he’s been mass-producing sugary treats the past few weeks.
“You do know how whipped you sound, right?”
“Eh… Whipped, mon ami?”
“Under her spell. Smitten. Infatuated.”
“I… Oui, I suppose that’s how I sound, isn’t it?”
“And look. You do realize you have this really weird smile whenever you talk about her. It’s kinda creepy.”
“Ah… Do I?”
“Yes! I’ve never seen you look so dopey about a girl. And not just any girl, the other mom friend in our group. Y’know, besides Eliza. It’s a little weird.”
Sigh.
“You don’t have to repeat it, mon petit tortue, I remember vividly. It is why I was hesitant to bring it up in the first place. It might ruin what we have.”
“No, don’t listen to John-““-Hey!-”“-Laf, if you like her, go get her. What are you waiting for?”
And so that’s how he found himself with quite the dilemma. Finals was coming up and he had a plethora of deadlines he had to worry about, but all he could think about was you. That little laugh you do when you’re sending Alexander the dumbest memes you could find, the look of concentration you have whenever Hercules asked for you opinion on his portfolio, that silly good luck dance you and John invented before passing your term papers.
But he couldn’t make any sort of move on you, he knew that. If things didn’t work out between you two, your friendship would already be too sullied to save. He’s been playing and replaying scenarios in his head of how things could go wrong that it practically gave him nightmares once or twice. He knew it would cause an awkward rift between the boys and you and the Schuyler sisters. Even if they say they won’t, he knew sides would still be taken.
Dating within your own circle was just asking for so much trouble.
Which is why he’s been in the kitchen way more than normal, and way past the reasonable time to be making sweets. Every time he’s finished up the last batch of something, the gears in his mind would go off and in turn, the gears in his stand mixer would go on yet again. A vicious cycle.
“-rt. Gilbert?”
“Oui? Ah, je suis desolée, mon chou. I did not mean to space out like that.”
“What’s wrong, Lafa?” Damn it. You knew he couldn’t resist it when you used that nickname. It was your own nickname for him, no one else has or can call him that. “You’ve been weird, lately. C’mon, spill.”
He felt his heart melt at the sight of you, his resolve quickly wearing away. There you were across from him in your nondescript sweats and university hoodie, looking so genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. The way your brow was furrowed almost made him chuckle.
This was why it was so easy to fall in love with you. You were natural and genuine and real. He could very easily see your flaws as well as your merits, and that just sealed the deal for him.
Here goes nothing.
“Tu es la lumière de ma vie,” (“You are the light of my life,”) He exhaled, his hand impulsively reaching out to yours. Well, there was no going back now. Whatever your reaction was, he’d have to live with it. “I cannot seem to find the right words to tell you how much I appreciate your presence in my life, [N/Name]. Excusez-moi.”
He stood up to scoot his chair closer to you, bringing your hand up to his chest.
You stared at him in surprise, your own heart matching the rapid beating of his.
This… This was not what you expected when you came to look for your friend. Or, you guess friend isn’t the right term for him, anymore, is it? A slight blush bloomed beneath your cheeks; you suddenly became hyperaware of how warm his hand over yours was, and how hard his heart was beating in his chest.
“Lafa, I-“
“Non, mon amour. Please, do not think you have to return my feelings. I simply ask that you do not turn me away as your friend.”
Silence enveloped you as you tried to wrap your mind around the whole situation. This was insane. If someone told you weeks ago that Lafayette, one of your closest friends, actually romantically likes you, you’d have laughed in their face. Now, you weren’t sure what to do.
You wouldn’t deny the crush you’ve developed on him the first time you met. He was handsome, and silly, and quite passionate in his endeavors. But eventually, you found yourself drawn to him by the way he treats people, even when said people were Alexander’s rivals. He didn’t fold in on himself when faced with a delicate situation or a difficult decision. He was steadfast, loyal, and levelheaded; traits you deeply admired in your whirlwind of a life.
But the question still stands, and there was only one way to find out.
You bit your lip. “Will you still make me cookies?”
He laughed; a relieved, sincere thing that made your stomach flip out in a way it hasn’t before.
“As many as you want, chérie.”
“And you promise not to turn our locker into some sort of underground pastry shop?”
His heart skipped a beat at your use of the term ‘our’, the sides of his eyes crinkling as the smile on his lips widened.
“Je promets, ma belle femme.”
“Well, I guess there’s only one logical end to this situation.” You pulled your hand away from his. “I don’t want to be friends anymore-”
“Oui, I-“
“-because I want to try being something more.”
Anything else you had to say was quickly silenced by Lafayette’s chest. You could hear the deep rumbling of his laughter from your position pressed against him, and you couldn’t help but give a giggle of your own. You stayed that way for a while. After the laughter has subsided and contented silence settled upon the two of you, you continued to remain in his arms as he resumed typing out his term paper.
You ended up missing class that afternoon, finding yourself too giddy to even focus on anything but your current situation. The Frenchman eventually noticed the energy buzzing from your body, a small smile creeping up on him.
“You know what we can do with all that energy, oui?”
“Sex?”
“Baking, chérie, baking.” You have never seen him look that scandalized in your life, it was hilarious. “You have been hanging around Hercules far too much, naughty chaton.”
You laughed, watching him put away his things so you could both grab something to eat.
“But, you know… If we fucked, you would have a different way to relieve stress, other than filling my locker to the brim with enough baked goods to feed a battalion.”
Prompt from @dailyau: “Decaf is for quitters. I don’t quit. I haven’t slept in approximately eighteen kilometers.” AU
Enjoy~
“Alex.”
“…”
“Alexander.”
“…”
“Moist.”
“…”
“Thomas was right about the debt plan.”
“…”
“I’m pregnant with Aaron’s baby.”
“…”
“John and I orchestrated a wild orgy in your room the other night.”
“…”
You sighed. This has been going on for quite a while now; you trying to get your Caribbean buddy to pay attention to you, and said buddy completely treating you like you weren’t even there. But you had to give it to him; his concentration skills were off the charts. You’ve been pestering him nonstop for almost 30 minutes now, and he seemed to be pretty unfazed by your attempts.
The rest of his squad had long since given up trying to pry him from his seat, which was why you were here. You had been gleefully enjoying your 3-hour break when John came up to you, whining about how Alex hasn’t been out of the café in days. You, of course, thought he was lying up until the moment they dragged you into the homey little establishment.
The man had made an actual nest of coffee cups, readings, and books in the small corner booth of the shop.
“Alex,” You started again, placing your hand on his knee. No response. You groaned. “We’re worried about you. John says you’ve been drinking this stuff nonstop since deadlines came around. That was two weeks ago, Lexi. Two.”
The only reply you received was a noncommittal grunt.
Deciding enough was enough, and you’d rather have him snarl at you or something other than ignore you completely, you snatched the coffee cup from his hand. This, of course, earned you a loud cry of outrage from its owner.
“Hey! Give it back, [F/Name]! I have deadlines to catch up on.” He whined, reaching over to swipe his lifeblood back.
“No, Alex. You’re already way ahead of your deadlines, this is just your ego rearing its ugly head.” You retorted, noting the bags under his eyes were even worse than they normally were. “Have you even slept this week at all? Christ, you look like you’re speeding.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, [F/Name], but I’m running on scholarship money and if I don’t get an A on every single subject I have-“
“Don’t use that excuse with me, lion-boy. That may work for John and Hercules, but in case your sleep deprived brain is forgetting, I’m on an F1 visa and banking on scholarships just like you and Gil.”
That seemed to slow him down, even if a little, as shame seeped into his blank expression. You knew he didn’t mean to insinuate that you took things for granted, but you honestly didn’t care for another ‘I’m not throwing away my shot’ speech from him. You knew he wasn’t going to. You all weren’t going to. It’s why you’re busting your ass in a college all the way across the ocean instead of settling for a cozy life back home.
Your gaze softened as you watched him struggle to find the words in his coffee-addled brain to apologize. You took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze that no, you weren’t mad.
“Look, if you really think you need it, I’ll get you decaf, but regular coffee is a no.”
“Decaf-“ Oh boy, here it comes. The guilt he felt for his previous words were gone now, instead, replaced with a fiery passion for defending his precious bean juice. “-is for quitters. I don’t quit. In fact, I haven’t slept in approximately eighteen kilometers.”
You blinked, completely stunned as you tried to process what just came out of Alexander’s mouth. Eighteen kilometers- what even?
“Okay, yeah. That settles that. We’re getting you out of here.” You concluded, the finality in your tone leaving no room for discussion. Your companion could only watch helplessly as you swept his things into his bag, groaning at the idea of having to rearrange everything at a later date.
The walk to his dorm was an uneventful one. You ended up having to support half of the resident genius’s weight as the effects of his coffee fueled study spree was wearing out. You only hoped you could get to his room in time before he finally crashed and burned from the days he spent awake.
“I’m sorry about the things I said back there,” He mumbled tiredly as you were helping him into his bed. “I shouldn’t have-“
“Hey, it’s fine, Lexi. I know you didn’t, it was the caffeine talking.” You smiled warmly down at your charge. His eyes were already drooping as you pulled the sheets over him. “Now get some rest, okay? Promise me you won’t leave this bed until morning.”
You stood to leave when you felt his slack hold on your wrist.
“Stay.”
“Lexi-“
“How’d you know I won’t leave this bed when you walk out the door, hm?” His speech was slurring, so you were pretty certain he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. But Alexander always had a strong hold over your emotions, and the request only made your insides melt in a warm, fuzzy way.
“Alright, I’ll stay. But you better scoot over because I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
No response.
You couldn’t help cooing at your now-asleep friend, soft snores leaving his slightly parted lips. Deciding to risk it, you leaned down to plant a light kiss on his forehead.
Warnings: Cursing, drunken canoodling, TJeffs (he’s a warning all on his own), mentions of slut-shaming?, dabbing, p e g g y
Fic Request: “Hi! Could you write about a jealous reader watching Alexander flirt? Thank you~”
A/N: So. I took this request and ran with it all the way around the world, twice. This turned out way longer and more serious than I anticipated, and contained a lot more angst than I originally planned. Woops. But aaaaaaa first request!
I really hope this was to your liking, anon! c:
“I’m too sober for this.”
John, your dear freckled friend, watched you knowingly from his seat beside you. You’ve been nursing your fourth glass of bourbon for a while now, your eyes trying not to stray to a particular figure on the dance floor.
“Well, you haven’t exactly been drinking since your third glass…” He reminded you, an amused lilt to his words. You scowled. The smug bastard may be your closest friend but right now you wanted to punch the smirk off his face.
“Smartass.” Finally, you took a small sip from your glass.
“Thanks, my ass graduated with Latin honors.”
Your face contorted with a mix of confusion and amusement. “What the hell, Laurens?”
“Just trying to cheer you up, babe.” He winked at you before an understanding smile spread across his face. You smiled back weakly. God, was this man an angel amongst mortals.
The only other member of your pity party had already downed his second beer for the night, and was now casually fiddling with the peanuts in front of him while you poured your soul out. You looked down into your drink for the nth time that night.
You felt bad, really you did. You, the boys, and the Schuylers had all agreed to go out tonight to unwind from the hell that was finals week, but all you were doing was wallowing in your own grievances. Now you somehow managed to suck one of them into your sphere of sorrows.
“You don’t have to,” You murmured, swirling your drink around. “You should go have fun tonight; land a hot lay or, I don’t know, get shit faced drunk. Maybe buy another turtle.”
Your eyes strayed to the dance floor, glossing over ever so slightly as you watched your friend chatting up yet another girl who looked way too happy at the attention. You gripped your glass tighter, your knuckles turning white at the pressure. Don’t cry, [Name]. Deep breaths.
“Just do something, anything instead of listening to my sob story.”
John opened his mouth to say something, probably to refute your statement, but was cut off by the one person you really wanted to avoid tonight.
“Hey, bartender! An appletini for this beautiful lady. On me.”
Just your luck. Just your dumb fucking luck.
You swallowed an enraged sob that tickled your throat as Alexander leaned across the bar space beside you; his newest, extremely giggly conquest hanging off of him and playing with his hair.
He had leaned down to whisper something in the brunette’s ear, but due to how inebriated he was, you heard it loud and clear.
“And perhaps have the beautiful lady on me?”
The slurred speech was promptly cut off by his companion pulling him into a deep kiss.
Unbelievable.
Your eyes quickly filled with unshed tears as you slammed a few bills on the shiny, redwood bar top, your cheeks red with indignance. Without waiting for John’s reaction, you picked up your glass and downed the contents in one gulp before making your way outside.
Across the room, the Schuyler sisters were dancing in a small circle with their partners; Angelica was swaying to the beat with Lafayette, the two of them in some sort of conversation, and Eliza was shyly following Maria’s lead as they danced together. Peggy had been performing a variety of iconic (and ironic) dance moves that made Hercules double over laughing.
When you finally made it to the door, the youngest Schuyler paused in her movements. Her brows knitted in concern, thinking you probably had too much to drink as you’ve been at the bar since you arrived. But as her eyes landed on John scrambling to pay for his drinks and Alexander sucking face with some rando, the gears in her mind clicked into place.
Oh no.
“Liza, Angie,” Peggy called out to the other two, her voice laced with concern. Maybe this outing was a mistake. Her sisters, however, were still caught up in their own bubbles, completely oblivious to what was happening around them.
She rolled her eyes, turning to her own partner instead, “[Name] just left the bar. Alone.”
“What?” Now, despite his intimidating and hulking appearance, Hercules Mulligan had quite the soft spot for you and the Schuylers. He had always treated the four of you like his sisters; looking out for you more, and getting overly protective. “Stay here and tell the others. I’ll go after her.”
Peggy wanted to come with, but ultimately knew the Irishman could handle things better than her. She’d probably suggest clocking Alexander square in the nose anyway. Still, she felt her heart ache for you, unable to imagine what was going on in your mind right now.
You leaned against the nearest lamppost, the cold metal contrasting heavily with your overheated body.
This day was a disaster.
“I should have stayed home,” You mumbled angrily to yourself, tears trailing down your cheeks. “This was a mistake. That party was a mistake. Alex was a goddamned mistake.”
Shaky inhale.
“God, I’m so stupid.”
“We both know that’s not true, [Name].”
You sniffled miserably, slumping to the ground, “I let him lead me on, Herc… I let him kiss me, and make me feel things and-and-!”
Strong, bulky arms wrapped around your shivering body as you let out the sobs you’ve held in for so long.
“I don’t understand! He-He kissed me that night! He showed me he was interested! We made plans for a date before he completely cut me off…” The utter defeat and hurt lacing your voice caused Herc to tighten his grip around you. He tried not to get mad at his friend, knowing he must stay a neutral party for both of your sakes. But what the hell did Alex do?
Moments later, the door to the bar opened to reveal Eliza and Lafayette, the former obviously worried while the latter seemed to be a lot more collected. They made their way over to you, Eliza brushing your hair back behind your ear.
“What’s wrong, [Name]?” You couldn’t help the fresh wave of tears pouring from your eyes as the gentle tone reminded you so much of your mother, and the gesture reminding you so much of Alexander.
“Please tell us what’s wrong, chérie.” Lafayette knelt to level with you, his expression calm but his eyes glazed over in worry. You appreciated how he was always the voice of reason, the rational thoughts to your weepy emotions. He always seemed to be the level-headed one in tense situations, even when other people were running around like headless chickens.
“We have noticed you and le petit lion at odds lately. We have all just brushed it off as how you say.. hellweek stress? But clearly, it is something more.”
“I…” Your breath hitched, lips hesitating to form the words. Eliza nodded encouragingly at you, her hands clasping your own. You kept your eyes trained on hers, her gaze calming you enough to continue. “It was during the sem-ender party. The Debate Society was having it before finals, you know? Because most of the members would be leaving as soon as… as soon as finals ended, and they wanted to distress everyone before final reqs…”
Loud music reverberated throughout the hallways, sometimes shaking a few pictures when the bass drops. You brought your red solo cup to your lips, gulping down the last of whatever concoction your host had put together. It probably contained enough alcohol to knock you out in a few minutes, but hey, it tasted deceivingly like lemonade.
You placed the cup on the protruding window sill, a sigh escaping your painted lips.
It had been a while since you found yourself on the driveway of your teammate’s house, the chilly autumn air raising goosebumps along your arms. The living room had gotten a little too warm and stuffy for you, where, incidentally, most of the party was happening. You turned back to peek through the window, vaguely seeing someone being lifted up by one of your clubmates.
This wasn’t really your scene. Sure, you didn’t turn your nose up at a drink here and there, but you weren’t really that well assimilated with the other members of the Society. You were only here at the insistence of Angelica and Alexander. They, mostly Angelica, had insisted you deserved a little break for the wins you’ve landed this year.
But, you only agreed because of the look Alexander shot you. He seemed genuinely interested in going, so you acquiesced. God knows Alexander needed the break more than you did, and it totally wasn’t because he caused your heart rate to speed up tenfold with just a look.
“Aha! There you are.”
A smile broke through your lips, turning to face the very reason you agreed to this in the first place. He looked a little ruffled, his hair mussed up, his clothes and glasses askew.
You wolf whistled, “Wild night?”
Alexander flushed, his hands going everywhere to try and fix his appearance as quickly as possible, “You left me for dead at the mercy of our ‘friends’! They had Jefferson manhandle me!”
You laughed, your brain quickly connecting the dots from that little scene you saw through the window.
“Ohh, so it was you I saw being held up like a little pup.”
“[Na~ame].” You felt your cheeks getting redder than it already was, finding it cute how he whined your name like that. You only ever saw him this way when his system was shot with alcohol. Normally, he’d be barking angry tirades of how Jefferson was pulling a Julius Caesar to get what he wants and would be better off muzzled, lest he rip the very fabric of your Society to shreds.
“I was just getting some air, Alexander. It was getting a little crowded in there,” You answered after a while of silence, your eyes still trained towards the street. Sensing his suddenly sobering aura, you smiled mischievously, “Thomas’ ego took up half the living room.”
“[Name],” Your smile dropped to a reassuring one. You knew what that tone meant. And while the concern wasn’t unwelcomed, you’d rather he didn’t worry about you on the night both of you were supposed to be relaxing.
“I’m fine, Alexander.”
You felt his fingers brushing the side of your cheek, leaving flames burning in its wake. He had tucked a few loose locks of hair behind your ear before cupping the side of your face, a gesture that made your breath stall. His eyes bore into your own when you finally turned to face him.
His face was close.
You raised a hand to rest against his own, your head leaning into his hold despite yourself.
“You should have come to me, [Name].” He whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek lightly. He had leaned his forehead against your own. “I know what this feels like… We’re in the same spot.”
Your heart threatened to jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating. You tried desperately to calm yourself, willing your breath to go from quick and shallow to slow and deep. This was a side you’ve never seen from him before. He was never this gentle, this intimate. Alexander was an outspoken, hard-headed, loud young man who did everything he could to be seen as someone worth listening to. He was constantly on this uphill climb, he never seemed to have time to slow down or take a break.
But Lord, he smelled so good up close, even when his breath smelled like fruity alcohol. Your lips parted slightly, your pupils blown out in desire.
He was so close.
“Alexander…” You breathed, your eyes closing on their own accord. “What are you doing…?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago.”
He closed the gap between you.
Sparks and tingles ran across your body, overwhelming your systems so much you accidentally let out a soft moan. You pulled away, blushing, stuttering your attempt to apologize. But Alexander had just pulled you back in for another kiss.
Angelica stared at the slowly sobering man in front of her, her gaze hard and unreadable. Alexander sat in front of the eldest Schuyler and Peggy, Maria and John on either side of him, while his little friend nowhere to be found.
“So you decided to be a dick and hook up with Chuckles over there because?” The youngest Schuyler, unlike her sister, was completely readable after the story he just divulged to them. “Seriously, Alex. None of us here gets it. You kiss the girl of your dreams, she doesn’t smack you straight to next week, and then you drop her like a hot potato? What gives?”
The man in question mumbles his response, his eyes dropped to the table as he shifts in his seat.
“What?” John stared at him in disbelief, Maria quirking an eyebrow at what she heard.
“What ‘what’? What did he say?” Peggy looked back and forth between the two, not having heard what was said.
“I said she hooked up with Jefferson.”
Alexander was on cloud nine.
He was practically floating down the halls of the men’s dorm a few days since the party. He may have gotten a bunch of crass and teasing remarks but for once, he didn’t dignify any of them with a response. Why?
Because! You reciprocated his feelings!
He let a goofy smile take over his lips, thoughts of you occupying his mind. You even agreed to go on a date this weekend! He was going to make sure everything was perfect for you. He was even going as far as to enlist the help of James Madison and Aaron Burr. He could try to put their differences aside just this once since they both grew up with you, and most likely knew things neither he nor the others in your little squad knew about.
He rounded the corner to his dorm before he felt the world screech to a halt, his heart plummeting to his feet.
There you were. As beautiful and mesmerizing as always.
Emerging from Jefferson’s dorm room.
“Thanks for the book, T.” You were smiling that bright, sunny smile you always had. As if you didn’t just walk out of his mortal enemy’s room with said enemy half naked. “And, look, I know I was stubborn and gave you shit for it at first, but thanks for last night too. I didn’t know how much I needed that.”
He couldn’t believe his ears.
You- with- But why! He felt so much rage and confusion filling him; he didn’t even notice his sight blurring or the wetness on his cheeks. He wanted to call out to you, demand why in the world you were in that man’s room. But you had your back to him.
Jefferson, however, saw him. And the smirk he threw him had him seeing red.
“No problem, doll,” He heard the Virginian fuckwad drawl out, his hand coming up to brush a lock of your hair behind your ear; reminiscent of how he did that to you just a few days ago. “It was my pleasure. Perhaps we could do it again sometime?”
“Sure, why not?” He heard you answer as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “You’re surprisingly good at what you do, Thomas. I guess I’m lucky you found me when you did, because I probably wouldn’t have finished if it weren’t for you.”
The smug look on Thomas Jefferson’s face had him walking up to you, ready to beat the ever living hell out of him, but your next words stopped him in his tracks.
“And, look, while I do appreciate your help, can you keep this from Alex? He’d flip out if he knew, and I really don’t want to end a relationship before it even started.”
“Oh, trust me darlin’. He won’t hear it from me.”
“Wait, what??”
You had already calmed down enough for Herc to let you stand on your own, but Eliza still had your hand in hers. Lafayette looked troubled.
“Yeah, exactly,” You whispered, your heart still caught in your throat. “Yeah, he… I didn’t think of it anything at first, but the week after the party, I barely saw him. It’s like he suddenly fell off the face of the earth. We made plans to have lunch together, and have study dates, but he just… I thought he was busy!”
A frown pulled at your lips as you exited your last class for the day, ready to just bury your face in bed. You anxiously checked your phone, wondering if Alexander finally had the time to talk to you.
No notifications.
You tried to reassure yourself as you put away your phone. He was probably just really busy. You and the rest of your group knew how Alex could be during finals week. That man was non-stop. You smiled to yourself at the thought before getting a brilliant idea; maybe you could get him to de-stress with you! You’ll get all his favorite snacks and just have an afternoon to yourselves.
You were making your way through the little forested area on the way to grab stuff from your dorm when you heard noises just off the path. Thinking it might have been one of the campus cats, you ventured to check it out.
Boy, you wished you hadn’t.
Your throat ran dry as your eyes started to water.
There was the man you had fallen for since your first year, engaged in a furious make out session with a blonde haired stranger.
You’ve never ran as fast as you had that day.
“Congratulations.”
Everyone at the table stared at Angelica with apprehension. She hasn’t given her thoughts on the matter the whole night, so now that she chose to open her mouth, everyone knew not to get in the way. Maria, however, seemed to let a little smirk slip as she bowed her head. Alexander visibly flinched, knowing whatever she was going to say, it wasn’t going to be pretty.
“You’ve invented a new kind of stupid.” She started, her voice level and soft, betraying the actual emotions behind her words. But she just went increasingly biting from there. “A ‘damage you can never undo’ kind of stupid. An ‘open all the cages in the zoo’ kind of stupid.”
The rest of the table stayed quiet, knowing the wrath of Angelica was about to be released. “’Truly, you didn’t think this through’ kind of stupid. Let’s review:”
“Maybe I should have seen this coming…”
The look Eliza gave you made you feel like you just offended her great ancestors and kicked her puppy. You gave a weak laugh.
“Alexander’s always looking to rise above his station. He has big dreams for himself, and I guess he realized I would be pinning him down.” You explained, wringing your hands. Hercules frowned, opening his mouth to rebut that statement but you cut him off.
“We all know he’ll never be satisfied with this kind of life; uncertainty and loans always looming above us. I should just come to terms with it. It wouldn’t have worked out well, anyway.”
“Non, ma chérie, that is not the case.” Lafayette’s voice finally reached your ears for the second time this night, his concerned expression softening to a more comforting one. “That is not the Alexander we know. He is not as shallow as to kiss you and then how you say ‘hook up’ with another femme. There must be something bothering him.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not a reason to ditch [Name] with another woman, Laf. If something was bothering him, he should’ve just talked to [Name] about it.” Hercules crossed his arms, shaking his head in disapproval.
“Oui, I understand this. I, myself, cannot wrap my head around why Alex would have done what he did, and I know nothing he says would make it excusable. However, the only way to know why he is giving our petite chou the freezing shoulder-“
At this, you couldn’t help the small laugh that left your lips, “It’s cold, Gilbert. Cold shoulder.”
“Ah- Oui, oui, desolée,” The sides of the Frenchman’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, finally glad to see some semblance of the you they’ve come to love resurface. “The cold shoulder. The only way to know why he is giving [Name] the cold shoulder is to have them ah… tête-à-tête. There must be something to this story we’re not seeing.”
“-and you chose to mess around with a bunch of unremarkable women! You even implied to us that she was whorish enough to sleep with Jefferson after admitting her feelings for you! So yes, good luck getting the woman you considered the ‘best thing’ in your life back!” Angelica’s face had gone slightly red at how disgruntled she was by Alexander’s behavior. “Because if she doesn’t want you back, we can all understand why.”
By the end of the rant, Alexander seemed to have shrunk into himself; a first for the typically outspoken young man. For once in his life, he couldn’t seem to find the drive to argue with the woman in front of him. He tried to review the memories of the past weeks. Maybe there was something he was missing? Some angle he didn’t consider?
Angelica was right. By jumping to the conclusion he did, he basically branded you a slut. His throat suddenly felt cottony, his face aflame with shame. How was he going to explain himself to you?
You were now on your way back inside, Lafayette’s suggestion of talking to Alexander had the small group agreeing it was the best course of action. You were skeptical, however. Unsure of how he would react to this. Would he lash out? Brush you off? You clutched Herc’s hand tighter in unease, him squeezing your own in reassurance.
Soon enough, there you were; standing in front of the man that started it all as both of your groups dispersing to grant you some privacy. Well, as much privacy as there is in a bar packed with people.
“[Na-]”
“Alex-“
“No, [Name], wait. I just- I want to apologize for everything. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about you. I reacted too quickly, failing to give you the time you needed to explain yourself. I’m sorry, [Name]. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know nothing I say will take away whatever you’ve felt the past few weeks, won’t erase the hell I put you through… I just- I want you to know how much I regret everything I’ve done.” He breathed a little before looking down. You’ve never seen anyone look so despondent. “But that kiss that night… I don’t regret that. That was the only good thing I’ve done, it seems…”
You remained silent, scooting yourself over in the seat beside him. None of you said a word for a while, just listening to each other’s breathing over the loud music pumping in the bar.
“Can you tell me why, Alex?”
And he did.
He told you about the walk to his dorm, the plans he had about contacting Madison and Burr, him seeing you walk out of Jefferson’s dorm, the conversation he overheard. How the urge to beat up his rival fizzled until all he could do was bury himself even more into his studies.
He told you about the hurt that threatened to spill out of his eyes, how, in the height of emotions, he decided to mess around with girls to spite you and make you jealous. Through everything, you stayed silent at his side, your eyes never leaving the table top.
The end of his story was followed by another barrage of apologies. How he regretted his actions, how childish he was, how he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to go to Jefferson after all. He probably would have continued too, if you hadn’t raised your hand to his mouth.
“[Name]?”
“I was borrowing a book. You knew that, yes? You heard me thank him for it.”
Alexander nodded, his mouth still behind your outstretched hand.
“It was a book I needed for my World History research paper. I was writing about The Arabian Nights and how it contributed to the telling of Asian history. The library’s copy of both The Arabian Nights and Orientalism and The Arabian Nights in Comparative Folk Narrative Research was taken out and has been overdue for 3 weeks prior to my asking for it.“
You sighed, bringing your hand down before pinching the bridge of your nose.
“For the conversation you decided to sexualize: Thomas found me while I was struggling with my design elective. We were tasked to produce at least five alternate designs of items found around campus and I could barely finish one that I was satisfied with. So when help sat its inflated ego down in front of me, how was I going to refuse?
He offered to help me in exchange for being on his team during the first debate next semester- don’t look at me like that, it was a fair enough deal- and we got to work. After a while, we started talking and one thing led to another and I ended up spilling my frustrations over the MIA books for my history class and he offered to lend me his.”
Silence settled over you two like a looming cloud.
“So… were you jealous?”
You glared at him enough to cause balls to recede.
He coughed.
More silence.
“Date this Saturday?”
“Try again, Alexander.”
“Fair enough.”
Your friends, who had gone back to enjoying their night, glanced over at the both of you, some shaking their heads.
“You’d think they’d make up a lot faster considering they never seem to shut up.”
“Maybe we broke them. I know Angie broke Alexander. We haven’t heard a peep from him since her outburst. L m a o”
“Did you actually just say ‘lmao’??”
“Fuck off, turtle-boy, I can say w t f I want. If you don’t like it, g t f o h8r.”
Warnings: Swearing, cheesy/bad flirting, kinda sexual thoughts lmao, my writing AHAHA
A/N: Just wanted to do a funny little TJeffs imagine bc I can’t seem to have enough of the imagines out there. So I decided to add my own prompt based one to the mix. :>
The prompts I used:
45 - Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”
171 - “I’m sorry, what were you saying? I keep getting lost in your eyes.”
And
208 - “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”
I hope you guys like it! c’:
Being a Hamilton was a lot of work.
More specifically, being the younger sister of a protective, overachieving Hamilton was a lot of work.
The words on your book seemed to swirl together into an incoherent mess, your eyes straining to make sense of the chaos. Groaning, you shut your notebook dejectedly and reclined in your seat.
None of this made sense to you, at all, but of course you have to keep trying.
It’s what Hamiltons do.
Or at least, you did. Your brother didn’t have to try, he probably would have been done learning this chapter weeks ago. You felt the familiar pull of anxiety pressuring you into becoming at par with your older brother but you desperately pushed it down before it could come up.
Leaning further back against your seat earned you a satisfying crack. How long have you been hunched over this dumb book anyway? Checking your phone, your eyes widened at your notifications and the time.
“Christ…” You muttered, miserably staring at the “8 missed calls” seeming to taunt you. It was nearing midnight and you’ve been chilling in the coffee shop by your campus for more than 12 hours now. Alex was going to be pissed.
Not that he even had a reason to, anyway. Your apartment was just down the road from where you were. But that doesn’t deter his innate need to become both your mother and father all at once; fussing over you before scolding you for being out so late. You sighed, stuffing your things into your bag leisurely.
Well, you were already in for a treat at this rate. Might as well take your time. You just hoped the boys were there with him to somehow soften the blow, knowing only they could reign in your brother when he gets like that.
Why oh why did you even insist on taking this elective this semester, anyway? You were already juggling a full courseload and a part time gig at a campus food truck, you didn’t need any more reason to go bald. And yet, here you were.
Absentmindedly, you tossed your half empty coffee cup into your bag before the realization dawned on you that you should not have done that.
“Shit!” You quickly fished out the now empty cup from your bag, letting out another long string of expletives as you yanked your things from the now slightly damp bag in panic.
“Do you mind?”
“Go suck a fat dick, asshole.” You replied almost instantly, wiping down your laptop with already soggy tissues before groaning. Letting out a whispered “duh”, you sprinted to the counter to grab some dry ones this time.
“What are you doing?” When you returned to your table, this mass of curls and rudeness was holding your precious baby in his hands as if he owned the damn thing. With your brain already in a tizzy with just seeing a stranger holding the lifeblood of your education, all that came out of your mouth was a “That’s not yours.”
“Your welcome, darlin’.” He teased with a smirk on his face as he handed you your now dry laptop. “I suggest using whatever lives inside the space between your ears next time. Would be a shame if this happened again and the guy you told to eat a dick didn’t help you out.”
That seemed to kickstart your brain into functioning again.
“Yeah well I didn’t ask you to come here and try to play hero, did I?” You glared at the man you now recognized as Thomas Jefferson, the bane of your brother’s existence. Or so he says, anyway. You’ve had two classes with the guy, and you can kinda see what your brother was talking about. “Why are you even here, Jefferson? Shouldn’t you be off kicking puppies and making babies cry or something?”
“Now whatever gave you the idea that I spent my leisure time doing something so… unsavory?” He asked, his brows furrowing in confusion for a split second before a smug look replaced it. It had happened so fast, you weren’t sure if it even happened. “Besides, the only babe I want to hear crying tonight would be you, doll.”
“I-“ You felt your cheeks heat up from his comment, naively not expecting the man to make any lewd comments at your expense. You decided to busy yourself with wiping your bag down instead of standing there, looking like a blushing fool. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Besides, shouldn’t you be more… I dunno, ‘I’m not talking to the peasants’ kind of guy?”
“You seem to be making quite the assumptions about me and yet, I haven’t even had the pleasure of getting your name.” He pointed out in a charming little drawl that had your stomach flipping pancakes.
Fuck.
Okay, hey, you weren’t going to lie. The man was attractive as fuck, from the head of curls to his dark, commandeering eyes, carefully trimmed facial hair, and that body. God. Let’s not forget that voice, though, a honeyed baritone that sent your stomach postively churning with desire, and good Lord his accent just amplifyed it all. (MY VOICE KINK IS SHOWING I’M SORRY) His attitude, however, could use a little (okay a LOT of) polishing.
But what’s the harm in indulging yourself a little bit? You know you could never fall for the man, his personality alone repels your heart from that very notion (aka he’s an asshole and you’d rather not get involved with all that). Enjoying the attention, however, doesn’t necessarily involve that certain part of you.
“[Name]” You praised yourself for not stuttering, wadding up the soiled tissues into a ball before once again loading your stuff into your now coffee stained bag. “And I suppose you’re right, I am boxing you into my assumptions. Can you blame me though? Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy on campus, and your actions don’t exactly redeem you, either.”
A meticulously groomed eyebrow rose at your words, a smirk still on his lips as he leaned against the table, “You’ve been watching me? Why Miss [Name], I must say, I didn’t expect that from you. Though I can’t say it’s entirely unwelcomed. You’re free to watch me as long as you’d like, darlin’.”
“Don’t get any ideas, Jefferson,” You rolled your eyes, slinging your coffee stained bag onto your shoulders now. “We have a couple of classes together. And really, that’s enough to see what everyone’s always going on about.”
“Oh?” Thomas looked like he was mildly interested to hear your thoughts of him. He’s never really noticed you during classes, as he opted to sit with his friend James Madison up front, but hearing you talk so candidly about who you think he is both amused him and intrigued him. If you had been anyone else, especially Alexander, he would have already put you in your place yesterday.
“You’re arrogant, abrasive, and you seem to think so little of everyone who isn’t you. You constantly intentionally get into fights with Alexander, you have this habit, or should I say hobby?, of using people like pawns on a chessboard, and-”
Now, there were a few things you need to know about Thomas. One of which is that he prides himself in always coming to classes, meetings, dates, and what have yous, in the perfect state of mind and on time. But as he stared at you going off about how he was practically one with the scum of the earth, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to focus on anything you were saying.
Instead, he noticed the way your lips moved as you formed the words that sullied his good name. He etched into memory the way your eyes blazed with passion as you continued your tirade on him, and the way your eyebrows furrowed when you-
“-ot listening anymore, are you?”
“I’m sorry, what were you saying? I keep getting lost in your eyes.” He silently applauded himself at the smooth recovery, throwing in a wink for good measure. He couldn’t seem to help it though, he’s never seen anyone talk shit about him while looking so beautiful. Not to mention, you hardly sounded like you had some personal vendetta against him. That meant you were about as much threat to him as a baby rabbit.
Aaaand there goes the pancakes in your stomach again.
Fuck.
You bit your lip, willing the flames in your cheeks to die down before they blossomed on them once more. Feeling that you were going to lose that battle, you hurried to move past him, heading for the door.
“Y’know, Jefferson? It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line. It’s sad, really. And to think I believed the rumors about your skills.”
Oh ho! He felt his smirk stretch into a very smug, very self-satisfied grin. If that wasn’t an invitation to prove you wrong.
“Back here on Wednesday at 4pm. I’ll show you exactly why those rumors came about.”
Without answering, you walked out the door knowing one Thomas Jefferson was still lounging on that table with the most conceited, wolfish smile he could muster because he knew. Oh he knew very well that you were coming back. The bastard.
Pairing: some very slight Thomas Jefferson x Reader
World: Modern/College AU
Warning: cursing, mentions of furry porn, seductive turtle, Theatre Kid! Alexander, vague to no plotline: just actual stupidity w some romance if you squint
Prompt: Inspired by real chats and true events. One of my greatest friends seriously makes me think of a modern day Alexander Hamilton... Also, he’s a gold mine of hilarious fuck ups and I’m glad I’m there to witness it.
A/N: sweats I’M WORKING ON THE ORGY FIC, ASSUMPTIONS PT2 aND UNDER ARREST I SWEAR I JUST NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM and also to let u know i’m still alive LMAO
Enjoy~
MacNCheezy: Hey, doll
You: Yes, T?
MacNCheezy: You wanna make $10?
You: I’m not selling drugs for you, Thomas.
MacNCheezy is typing…
Pulling your [h/l] [h/c] hair into a low ponytail, you laughed as the chat window informed you that Thomas was writing and rewriting his response. It was amusing to see him flustered, even if you couldn’t actually see him. The thought of his indignant huffing and puffing was enough to brighten the already shitty day you’ve just had.
Thomas stared into his phone with disbelief. Here he was, genuinely trying to help a friend out (he’ll end up benefiting from this anyway, but, shh) and you were being impudent! The nerve of some people, honestly.
You: Oh, you would know a lot about the drug market, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?
He considers on sending the message then and there, but knew you would jump at the opportunity to Fight™ so he quickly types in his initial intentions.
But your connection to sketchy trades is not why I’m here. I have a commission for you.
ItsKittenBitch: Oh? Yknow I’d rather fuck a cactus than get into bed w you, baby boo.❤️
ItsKittenBitch: Besides, $10 is cheap, even for a corner street hooker.
ItsKittenBitch: Up your game, Teej, and I’ll maybe consider holding ur hand. 😘
The mocaccino incarnate drags his hand over his face in irritation. Why was he asking you again? Oh, right, you were actually more tolerable than the squad you liked to hang around. And also Jemmy was still too sick to help him out.
You: Will you be serious for once, [F/Name]? I’m in a tight spot.
You rolled your eyes as your fluffy haired friend described the situation to you. He lamented over how he had to take care of James while he was swamped with papers for his major and his part-time gig at a local online publication.
You: So you’re basically asking me to be a ghostwriter for a ghostwriter? 👀 👀
MacNCheezy: Yes, [F/Name], that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.
You: What do I get out of it?
MacNCheezy is typing...
You: I’m kidding, Thomas. Don’t get your hair curlers in a notch.
You: I know I get $10 for 500 words. I’ll do it.
You: But I’m also expecting ice cream and mac and cheese for this.
MacNCheezy: If you wanted a date that badly, you should’ve just asked, sugar. 😏
You: e w, can you not with the emojis, old man? 😩 You trying to be cool is just... sad. 😔
MacNCheezy: Just give the article to me in 3 or so hours, or you’re not getting ice cream.
MacNCheezy: I hear the parlor down the street is having two-scoop Tuesday and it would be a terrible shame for us to miss it.
You: I can get ice cream on my own, ya kno
MacNCheezy: I know for a fact you like being treated to free ice cream because you’re broke, [F/Name].
You: di s gu st i ng. You exploit my weakness for free food.
MacNCheezy: See you in 3 or so hours, sweetheart. 😀 😃 😄 😁 😆 😅 😂 ☺️ 😊 😇 🙂 🙃 😉 😌 😍 😘 😗 😙 😚 😋 😜 😝 😛🤑 🤗 😎 🤡 🤠 😏
You: s T O p 😫😤
It’s been two hours since you’ve been click-clacking away on your laptop, and after agreeing with yourself that you’ve written a decent first draft, you decided to take a break. Drawing one knee up to your chest, you pulled up your web browser and logged onto your Facebook.
Alenhamner Cameltoe: yo [N/Name]!
You: sup non stop kids bop
Alenhamner Cameltoe: I just thought of something
You: wooooah there slow down don’t hurt urself Alex
Alenhamner Cameltoe: Blatantly ignoring that comment fueled by self-hate
I realized why they changed the plot of Anastasia for the stage play.
You: Uh... they did?
Alenhamner Cameltoe: They did.
Rasputin isn't the villain. It's Ramin Karimloo as a violent Bolchevik.
You: huh. Why’d they do that?
Alenhamner Cameltoe: Because...
In the animation, and this was okay for the 90s, right?
Rasputin hates the Tzar over a power struggle so he casts some magic to make the people unhappy and revolt so they kill the Romanovs.
Basically the entire Russian Revolution is because a wizard got mad.
Not because of oppression. Not because of Imperialism..
But because a wizard got mad.
You stared at the screen in slight amusement. Looks like Alex was in his rant days. (You also suspected he was hopped up on several cups of coffee, but you’d let John worry about that.) You shook your head and clicked back to your word document to begin proofreading your piece. You’ll just let him continue to flood your inbox and read over it when he’s done.
After a few minutes of complete silence sans the clacking of your keyboard, you finally realized Alexander had finished telling his story. You read over your piece to make sure it was to your satisfaction before maneuvering back to Facebook.
Alenhamner Cameltoe: So it paints the Romanovs as the heroic victims of this story.
Nowhere does it mention why they were killed and what atrocities were comitted by the aristocracy on the Russian working class.
The plot actually won't hold up today.
Today's audiences wouldn't actually approve of a story like that.
... also you get awesome historical reference lyrics like this.
LINK
The original animation, if released today would be criticized for historical revisionism.
The link opened to another site. You didn’t bother checking the url because it was probably a lyric site or youtube, so you casually scrolled through your newsfeed while it loaded.
A couple of cat videos and a bunch of overused memes later, you found yourself switching to the fully loaded tab.
Boy, you wish you hadn’t because what the fuck.
On your screen sat an anthropomorphic t u r t l e in a very suggestive pose giving you very real, very unnerving bedroom eyes. Chills ran up and down your spine as you checked the url, horrified at learning it was a fucking furry site.
What the fuck, Alexander.
Hastily, you clicked out of that website before going back to your chatbox. You rechecked the site he gave you, wondering if you somehow misclicked. But no, there the link was, bright as day. To a fucking porn site for furries.
You: WhaT thE fU c K, Ha mi lt o n
Alenhamner Cameltoe: I KNOW RIGHT?!
The play might be even better than the animation!
Wait, what am I talking about? Of course the play is already better by comparison because it plays to a more historically accurate context.
You stared at the screen in confusion. Wait, so... he wasn’t pranking you...? Then that meant...
You: yo if yall wanna be furries das fine w me
Alenhamner Cameltoe: Huh?
You: but keep your porn away from me
Alenhamner Cameltoe: ???
!!!!!!!!!
WAIT NO
THAT’S FURRY PORN
REAL LINK
THIS IS ANASTASIA
You: yo I won’t judge ur weird sexual fetishes, boi. Just make sure it’s safe, sane, and consensual.
Alenhamner Cameltoe: NO!!!
NO THAT’S NOT MINE!
THAT’S A PRANK I PLAYED ON JOHN
GOD DAMN IT I RUINED MY HISTORICAL REVISIONISM RANT
You: L M A O
Greatest fails
Alenhamner Cameltoe: I was trying to gross him out for leaving his goddamned turtles out of the cage again.
You: congrats. you only played yourself. 😂
Anyway I gotta go furry boi, Thomas owes me ice cream and mac and cheez
Alenhamner Cameltoe: I’M NOT A FURRY
THAT WAS FOR JOHN!
FOR JO H N !
Cackling madly, you logged off of Facebook. You pulled up your email account and forwarded your finished article to Thomas. Eh, you didn’t bother to proofread it a last time because you knew Thomas would be anal enough to go through it and edit it himself.
ItsKittenBitch: It is I, your savior, telling you that I have sent the feature to your email and demand compensation.
ItsKittenBitch: Now get off your ass and get ready for our date before I change my mind, old man. JemBuns will understand.
Thomas’ triumphant smirk melted into a fond smile as he pocketed his phone, handing James a fresh box of kleenex before getting ready.
