#Thomas Jefferson X Reader

[astralaffairs]

hi!! before i go i jus wanna say, I love your work 🙏🏽 and I finally watch hamilton last night so I might write for it as well 😋😋 but i have a drabble idea.

anyways— thomas having a dance/ball for a campaign during the election and he meets aaron’s little sister, mc, who snuck in. and he can’t help but take interests in her.

“Now, what’s a lady like you doin’ getting a drink just for yourself? Nobody’s offered to do that for you yet?”

Y/N froze as her fingers met the stem of the champagne flute. She had promised herself she would stay to the outskirts of the ball, and her only goal for the night had been to avoid courting attention. However, the packed room was warm, and it was only more so at its perimeter under the lights, and the crisp bubbly had looked oh-so-inviting.

She turned with a polite smile as she picked up the glass, but her eyes widened when she saw the man behind her with his gleaming smile and his velvet suit. She recognized him instantly; after all, she’d seen him before, and he’d even been in her home, but they’d never formally met. He raised an eyebrow when her smile faltered. “I’ve only just arrived. I haven’t had a chance to speak to much of anyone just yet.”

“Then I’m gonna have to count myself lucky to have found you when I did. Thomas Jefferson.” He offered her a hand as he introduced himself, and when she took it, he dipped down to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes went even wider.

She cleared her throat as he drew himself back up to his full height, still holding her by the fingertips, and it took a moment for it to occur to her to withdraw her hand. “You’re the host of this ball, then, if I’m not mistaken. Thank you for opening your home to us like this.”

“Believe me, sugar, the pleasure’s all mine,” he said. “Who’re you here with? Feel like I’ve seen you around, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Oh, um, my family’s here somewhere. I came on my own, though, and I was planning to meet them here.”

“Your family?” He pursed his lips. “You’re not a Schuyler, are you?”

“No, no, certainly not,” she replied before hastily adding, “although the Schuylers are lovely people, of course. To be a part of their family would make one lucky.”

“So you know the Schuylers, then?” he mused, and she nodded. His growing smile was making her mouth go dry. “I know where I recognize you from; you’re a Burr, aren’t you? Aaron’s sister?”

“I am, yes.” Her smile was tense, laced with unease. His grin was bright as he plucked a drink for himself off of the table behind them.

“So why haven’t I seen you at one of these before? Your family trying to keep you locked away from all the politics?” he asked, and as her eyebrows fell, he could see the look in her eyes sour.

“They’ve decided I can’t be trusted at this kind of event,” she said bitterly, and he quirked a brow. “Aaron claims he’s afraid I’ll say the wrong thing and jeopardize his career, but really, I think he just can’t deal with the idea of splitting people’s attention between us.”

“But you finally proved yourself trustworthy?” he asked mildly, taking a sip of his drink, and she shrugged uncomfortably.

“I suppose so.”

“Then where’s your dear brother now, hm? Why aren’t you here with the rest of your family?” He watched her expectantly, and when she didn’t answer right away, his grin broadened. “They don’t even know you’re here, do they?”

“No, and you’re not going to be the one to tell them,” she said sharply, pointing her champagne flute at him. He raised his eyebrows, amused by the fervor in her tone. “I had to walk miles alone in the dark to get here; I am not being thrown out as soon as I arrive.”

“Well, sweetheart, if you’re not with them, then really, I should be sendin’ you on your way.” Despite the threat, his voice was breezy, and she frowned.

“And what do you have to gain from kicking me out?”

“The respect and appreciation of your family,” he suggested blithely. “The knowledge that I’m not leavin’ a young lady to walk home alone ‘n vulnerable at the end of the night. ‘S just the right thing to do, really.”

She eyed his small smile for a moment before slowly asking, “But despite that, you’d rather I stay, wouldn’t you?” He shrugged unabashedly. “You’re quite shameless, aren’t you, Mr. Jefferson?”

“Only on a good day.” He winked as he took a sip of his drink. “After all, you went through all that effort to get here. There’s gotta be a good reason for it, huh?”

“Of course. I’m here to expand my mind just like everyone else," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

“And not for the charming future president we’ve got roaming the ball?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware there was one. Let me know if you see him?”

His full laugh proved him undeterred, and Y/N’s self-satisfied smile was reluctant. "'M glad to see you inherited more of the family wit than your brother seemed to."

"Please, don't tell him that. A lady needs to keep some things a secret."

"It'll stay between us, then," Thomas said, "but I don't think I ever got your name."

"Why, so you know whose presence to report to my brother?"

"So I know who to ask after the next time I see him." His response was quick, and it had Y/N on her heels. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, but when she opened her mouth to answer—

"Y/N." Both she and Thomas turned on their heels at the loud voice to find her brother striding across the room toward them, and her groan was unchecked. The fury in Aaron's voice was barely contained. "What in the world do you think you're possibly doing here, sneaking out after dark? How did you even get here?"

"I brought myself, since nobody else was willing to take me," she bit back, and Thomas raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his drink.

"That wasn't your decision to make," Aaron snapped. "We are a family, and you have to respect that—"

"Respect what? That you have total control over my life in the name of family values? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" she asked. "I respect that you have a career and a reputation to maintain, but I am a person, and—"

"And nothing, Y/N. Put the drink down, and leave Mr. Jefferson at peace," he demanded, and Y/N narrowed her eyes, her jaw set. Aaron turned to Thomas, and much of the fire in his voice had subsided when he said, "I'm sorry for her intrusion, Thomas. We didn't know she had followed us here, and we'll send her home at once."

"Now, Aaron, what makes you think she's uninvited company?" Thomas asked, and both Y/N's and Aaron's brows were raised. "Y/N's my guest here this evening; 's the opposite of an intrusion."

He frowned, glancing between Thomas and Y/N. "You mean you're responsible for her presence here tonight?"

"Well, I invited her, so I suppose you could say that," he said casually, and if he winked when he caught Y/N's eye, Aaron didn't think anything of it. Aaron's lips were pursed and his shoulders tense as he glanced between them.

"Why didn't you tell me Thomas had invited you?" he asked Y/N, and she shrugged.

"I didn't think you'd want to hear it, and I didn't want you trying to prevent me from coming."

"If I'd known he asked you to come—"

"So, what, my personhood is dependent on his permission now?"

"Your presence here is, at least."

"As a Burr, I would've been welcome either way."

"Not unattended, however."

"I can attend to myself just fine."

"You know that isn't what I mean when—"

"Aaron, was there somethin' else you needed?" Thomas cut him off, and Aaron's gaze was affronted when it snapped to him. However, he held his tongue. "I was just about to ask Y/N to dance, assuming that's her decision to make 'n all."

Y/N had to bite back her smile at his words, and although Aaron seemed to recognize the challenge in them as his jaw ticked, he said, "Of course. I'm sorry to have interrupted."

"Don't sweat it. Your concern for your sister is awful sweet, even if it isn't needed here," Thomas responded, his smile warm.

"'Concern' isn't how I'd describe it," Y/N muttered bitterly, and Thomas nudged her with his elbow. She frowned.

"Carry on 'n enjoy the rest of the ball, though, and please send my best to your wife," he said. Aaron could only offer a tense smile in response.

“You as well. I suppose I should go find Theodosia.” He looked down skeptically at Y/N. “How are you planning to get home?”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I…” She hadn’t thought that far, so her gaze was hopeful when it snapped to Thomas, who held her with a hand at the small of her back.

“I’ll arrange for a carriage to take her home,” he promised. “Don’t you worry, Burr. She’s in safe hands.”

“Right,” he said hesitantly, looking Thomas over. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t do anything stupid, Jefferson.”

“‘S like you don’t even know who you’re talkin’ to,” Thomas said incredulously, and Aaron scoffed.

“I’m sure.” He barely spared them both another glance before departing unceremoniously, shaking his head all the while, and Thomas chuckled. Y/N turned back toward him.

“You’re a regular local hero,” she said sardonically, but the smile in her eyes betrayed her bored tone. Thomas grinned.

“I do try, sweetheart,” he said lightly, “maybe even in a way that deserves a ‘thank you’?”

“Thank you.” Her voice was sincere. “Really. I owe you.”

“Well, if you mean that,” he said, and his eyes were shining as he looked down at her, “I wouldn’t mind making good on that dance I mentioned. Unless you’re in a real rush to get back to your dear old brother.”

He offered her his arm with an eyebrow raised, and she left her empty glass on the table behind them when she took it, drawing a wide grin from him. “How could I say no to our charming host?"

[dorkszn]

— letting you do their hair

— thomas j, alexander h, and phillip h x gn reader, john laurens x masc reader

+ black coded reader for thomas and john! modern-ish au!

PHILLIP H !

✩ he loves letting you do this hair. sometimes you don’t even have to ask, he’ll ask you.

✩ he only trust you and his parents to wash it and take care of it

✩ you style it a lot for him and eliza loves it

✩ tender headed as fuck

✩ if someone flirts with him in public, especially if they bring up his hair, he’ll just go on and on about you

✩ “oh my hair? yeah it’s nice, ain’t it? my (s/o) did it. Aren’t they so skilled?”

✩ you teach him how to braid his hair and style it the way you do so he can do them himself if there’s a time you’re not around

☆ watching your favorite shows 🤝 washing and drying his hair

THOMAS J !

☆ he is so protective of his hair. like he’s the only one allowed to touch it

☆ so obviously it took you a lot of begging and convincing but he eventually gave in

☆ he’ll make snarky comments and act like a baby when you first wash his hair or attempt to style it but a little pop with the comb gets him to shut up

☆ he almost fell asleep the first time you braided his hair, but he likes to pretend it never happened

☆ so embarrassed to ask you to wash his hair and you can’t help but tease him for it

☆ after a while, he had you braiding his hair once a week for an extra curl

☆ you guys have matching bonnets

☆ he will literally call James mid hair session and just start talking about the government with him

☆ he was very skeptical about your products but eventually they become the only thing he uses

ALEXANDER H !

☆ he was genuinely surprised when you asked him to do his hair

☆ he hadn’t had anyone to do it or take care of it for years, especially since his mother passed

☆ “you’d do that for me?” he’d question, genuine shock on his face

☆ and it takes all of both of you to not start crying when you do take care of his hair

☆ the first time you washed it for him was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him

☆ it was the most loved he’d felt for a while

☆ then there were times were you just played in his hair

☆ whether we was working or just watching tv, you were putting silly little styles in his hair. and it he loves it. he thinks it’s adorable.

☆ some mornings, he ask you to put his hair up for him or slick it back for him just so he can have the best start to his day

☆ his hair was very first thing he asked you to do when he came back from war

☆ scalp massages >>>

☆ they’re one of the only things that convince him to leave his office, just for a little bit

JOHN L !

☆ after he meets you, he refuses to do his hair unless you’re away on a trip

☆ he whines and pleads, making an excuses on “how you do so much better” and “how loved it makes him feel” while giving you kisses

☆ but if you’re truly tired, of course he’ll give you a break

☆ you came home once and found him wearing your bonnet/durag

☆ you also do most of his haircuts

☆ he doesn’t mind his hair growing out but he knows it’s getting too long when you start beating him while play fighting

☆ to him if you’re winning, his hair is messing with his vision and it’s a “handicap”

☆ definitely gets popped with the comb everytime you do his hair

“john, could you turn your head just a little bit?” you question, your frustration already growing. he couldn’t help but tease you constantly, it was in his nature. he slightly turns his head with a small smirk on his face, knowing he was pissing you off.

“john, don’t play with me right no—“ you cut off your words when john grabs you by the waist and pulls you in and onto his lap. his hand gripping the outside of your thigh to support you as you straddle his legs.

“this angle good enough for you?” he asks, giving you his typically stupid grin. you can’t help but softly smile as you look at him, your previous anger from before leaving.

“t’s fine, i guess.” you shrug before going back to attempting to cut his hair.

“see? why let anyone else do my hair when i can have you do it for free and get a lap dance at the same time?” he says nonchalantly, continuing to scroll on his phone. his free hand caress your thigh and slithering back to ass.

“john, i swear you’re going to wake up bald one day.”

[aanoia]

Pretty in the Moonlight

Thomas Jefferson x reader

Summary; just missing your boyfriend and him missing you

Warnings; broken glass, cheesy Thomas

Words; idkk

I wrote this forever ago

Requests are welcome and encouraged!

Baby😘

y’know ur rly pretty, we should go out sometime

r u high again

highly in love with u

u do the cutest things

like what

exist

I smiled at my phone as I sat on my couch. I stared at what my boyfriend of almost a year said to me, happiness blooming in my heart. My phone dinged as another message came through.

Sick Boi 🤒🤧

are you texting him rn

like currently

?

wha

thomas, r u texting thomas rn

yes

dude he’s smiling at his phone mad hard rn

stop, my heart

i’m not kidding he’s smiling so much

I shut my phone off and squealed, kicking my legs into the air. Fast footsteps came down the hall to reveal the youngest Schuyler sister.

“What is it? What happened?” She asked quickly.

“Come here,” I motioned her over as her sister came behind her. Peggy sat next to me whereas Angelica and Eliza stood behind the couch, peering over our shoulders.

I opened my phone to show them the texts. Big smiles grew on their faces as they read Thomas’ texts, and then Peggy started squealing when she read James’.

“Oh my god, y/n, Jeffersons in love with you,” Angelica commented with a big smile.

“By the looks of it the feeling is reciprocated as well,” Eliza teased and I smiled, hiding my red face in my sweater paws.

Thomas’ sweater. I remember when he purposely ordered it a size too big for him (for my bigger girls who think they won’t fit into his sweatshirt, don’t sweat it, he needs bigger sizes for his big muscles and he likes his sweatshirts big on him as well, don’t worry about that my loves, body positivity) so it’d be baggy on me.

“Omg, you should go see him!” Peggy said excitedly, “When was the last time you left the dorm? You’ve been so busy studying, you haven’t had time to see him. He’s probably so emo about it,” She said quickly and I laughed.

“Okay, I’ll go see him,” I stood from the couch as the sisters dispersed and walked to my room. I put on a pair of sweatpants over my shorts because it was cold outside, and just slipped my slides over my socks. The combo might look horrible but it’s so comfortable.

I stepped out of the door, immediately shivering at the cold night air as I closed it. I could see my breath in the air as I looked at the moon and the stars, slightly smiling at the sight before my eyes. I truly am grateful it’s a sight I get the privilege to see anytime when the clouds aren’t out and concealing its beauty. The leaves on the trees sang as the wind passed through them, every once in a while a leaf would fall, signaling that winter was coming soon.

As I neared Thomas’ dorm room I heard voices inside, the dumbest thing the school’s done was put Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton in the same dorm room. I went up to the door and decided to silently walk in instead of knocking. The boys were arguing in the living room area of the dorm as James was trying not to have a coughing fit on the couch and Aaron was sitting at the island holding his head in his hands. John was nowhere to be found so I assumed he was next door with Laf and Hercules.

I silently walked over to the fridge, waving to Aaron who immediately noticed I was there. I grabbed a glass from the drying mat and quietly pulled the milk from the fridge, I barely paid attention to the fight that was happening as I poured my milk. I turned around and walked towards the island but tripped over something, in an attempt to not step on whatever I tripped on, I dropped the glass of milk. The glass shattered against the ground, successfully catching the attention of everyone in the room.

I gave them a sheepish smile, “Hi?”

“Darlin’, when did you get here?” Thomas asked, frozen in place.

“Like, two minutes ago. Now, where is the broom?”

Aaron pointed to the corner where the trash can was and I nodded as a silent thank you. Before I got the broom, I bent down and picked up the culprit for the tripping. John’s turtle.

“Here, I’ll put him in his enclosure,” Aaron offered and I smiled at him, handing the turtle over to him.

I went to get the broom, but Thomas ran and beat me there.

“Let me get that for you.” He said and I rolled my eyes, grabbing onto the broom, but he didn’t let go.

“Thomas, I made the mess.”

“It’s my dorm, and I’m stronger than you. I win."

I rolled my eyes again and defiantly let go. I began searching for a rag to clean the milk up with as he swept up the glass. Alexander threw something at me and I smiled at the rag in my hands.

“Thanks, dickhead.”

“Anytime, asshole."

After Thomas swept the glass I quickly wiped up the milk. Once I put the rag in the sink arms immediately wrapped around my waist.

“Hello, baby." I said quietly with a smile.

“I missed you.” He whispered in my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

“I’ve missed you too, my love.”

“I wanna go on a walk with you,” He mumbled.

“Okay, let’s go.” I gently unwrapped his arms from my waist and he reluctantly left my side to slip his shoes on.

Once he put them on he opened the door and gestured for me to exit. I did and he followed after me, quietly closing the door so as to not wake anyone. He held my cold hand, warming it up as we walked.

We walked in silence until we sat on a bench, looking up at the moon.

It was quiet until his voice cut through the air.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes sparkle in the moonlight?”

I looked at him beside me and smiled, “No, no one has ever told me that. And that's really cheesy.”

He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear (if you have long enough hair for that), “Shame on them. You’re so beautiful in the moonlight. And I love cheese so that's okay.”

“As are you, Thomas, and yes, cheese is delicious.” I responded as his face neared mine.

Our lips met in a soft kiss, his hand touched my cheek. My heart’s rhythm synced with his and our lips moved together perfectly, his thumb gently caressed my cheek, and my arm wrapped around the back of his neck. We pulled back for air, our foreheads resting against each other.

“I love you so much, mon amour.” He whispered.

“I love you too.” I whispered back with a smile.

[newusernameidk]

BEYOND MONTICELLO - CHAPTER ONE

| A Thomas Jefferson x Reader fanfic |

The air was warm, carrying the faint, earthy scent of fresh soil and tobacco, as cheers rippled across Norfolk’s crowded streets. People from all walks of life had gathered, eager to welcome Mr. Thomas Jefferson home at last. After years away serving as the U.S. minister to France, he had finally returned to Virginia.

Thomas barely heard the applause or the calls of his name. His attention was elsewhere, scanning the sea of faces, searching for someone familiar. The celebration was for him, but he had little patience for the ceremony. Finally, his eyes landed on the man he’d been hoping to see: James Madison, standing near the dock with his usual calm, almost unreadable expression.

Thomas’s face broke into a broad smile as he strode forward, clasping James’s shoulders with both hands. “James, my friend! It’s been far too long. How’s Dolly? And you—are you well?”

James returned the handshake, his lips curving into a faint but sincere smile. “We’re all doing just fine, Thomas. Now hurry—we need to leave if we want to reach Mr. Washington’s estate in Philadelphia before nightfall.”

Thomas hesitated, his smile dimming just slightly. He respected George Washington deeply, even admired him in many ways, but there was a shadow of reluctance in his thoughts. The General’s circle had grown considerably in recent years, and one man in particular—a brash, ambitious immigrant—had become both prominent and divisive. The thought of meeting him face-to-face unsettled Thomas more than he cared to admit. Still, he pushed the unease aside and followed James to the waiting carriage.

_____________________________________

Philadelphia – Washington’s Estate

The hum of conversation filled the room, blending with the clink of dishes and the soft crackle of the fire. Y/N L/N balanced a tray of steaming tea with practiced ease as she weaved through the room. Her uncle, George Washington, sat at the head of the room, his presence as commanding here as it was on the battlefield. Nearby, Alexander Hamilton paced by the fireplace, gesturing emphatically as he launched into yet another tirade, while Edmund Randolph and Henry Knox chatted in low voices by the window.

“Honestly, Mr. President,” Alexander huffed, throwing up his hands for emphasis, “it’s intolerable! John Adams absent again. Does he even know what a cabinet meeting is?”

George raised an eyebrow but remained silent, sipping his tea as if to signal he was immune to Alexander’s dramatics. Y/N smiled to herself as she reached her uncle’s side, setting the fresh tray in front of him. “More tea, Uncle George?” she asked softly.

“Thank you, my dear,” he replied, his tone warm despite the faint exhaustion in his eyes.

Alexander turned sharply, his attention snapping to Y/N as if she’d addressed him. “Miss L/N,” he said, gesturing broadly with his teacup, “do you see what we’re up against? A Vice President who’s practically invisible! A man who, by all appearances, feels above the call of duty.”

Y/N carefully handed him a cup, schooling her face into polite neutrality. “I imagine you’ve expressed your feelings on the matter, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Frequently and with great flair,” he shot back, taking a sip.

Y/N straightened, glancing toward her uncle. “Do you know when Mr. Madison and Mr. Jefferson are supposed to arrive?”

“They’re already on their way,” George said, setting his cup down. “If James’s punctuality holds, they should be here by evening.”

“Thomas Jefferson,” Alexander muttered darkly, his tone thick with disdain. He slammed his teacup onto the saucer with unnecessary force. “Mark my words, Miss L/N: he’ll charm everyone in the room while opposing every sensible policy this administration has built.”

Y/N tilted her head, the corner of her mouth curving slightly. “A man with such a reputation sounds fascinating. I look forward to meeting him.”

Alexander opened his mouth, no doubt ready with a retort, but George’s firm voice cut through the air before he could speak. “Enough, Alexander. You’d do well to save your energy for the meeting.”

Y/N stifled a laugh, moving to refill cups for Edmund and Henry. The late afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows, casting long golden shadows across the room. As she glanced outside, a carriage pulled into view, kicking up a trail of dust. The other cabinet members have arrived.

_____________________________________

The hours dragged on, the heated back-and-forth between Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton showing no sign of slowing. The rest of the cabinet had long since grown tired of the debate. Henry Knox sat with his arms crossed, stifling a yawn. Edmund Randolph absently traced patterns on the table with his finger. James Madison looked like he was calculating how long he could keep pinching the bridge of his nose before it became permanent.

George Washington, seated at the head of the room, glanced at his niece, Y/N. She was still diligently scribbling notes, though her pen moved slower now, her focus waning under the weight of exhaustion. George sighed, rubbing his temple as he addressed her.

“My dear,” he said gently, though his voice carried over the noise, “you should retire for the evening. Your aunt has already gone to bed. A lady shouldn’t have to endure this nonsense any longer than necessary.”

Y/N set her pen down and looked up, a faint smile gracing her lips though there was a hint of exasperation in her eyes. “I’m fine, Uncle. Someone has to record this… productive discussion,” she said, her tone light but laced with irony. “And besides, if things get out of hand, I’m probably the fastest to run for help.”

Knox chuckled at that, but George remained unimpressed. “Regardless, you’ve done enough. Off you go now.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing between her uncle and the still-arguing Jefferson and Hamilton, before deciding not to push further. “Goodnight, Uncle. Gentlemen.” She nodded politely to the room as she left.

The door had barely clicked shut behind her when Alexander’s voice rose again. “Mr. Jefferson, if you think this country can thrive on dreams and farming alone—”

“And if you think banks and tariffs will feed the people, Mr. Hamilton,” Thomas interrupted coolly, “then it’s no wonder you see this nation as little more than your personal ledger.”

“Enough!” George’s voice cut through the room like a whip, the sheer force of it silencing everyone. He rose to his feet, his gaze sharp as he looked between the two men. “This meeting is over. We’ll reconvene tomorrow when everyone’s heads are clearer.”

Knox and Randolph didn’t need to be told twice. They stood immediately, murmuring polite goodnights as they made for the door. Madison followed close behind, pausing only to give George a slight bow before disappearing into the hall.

Hamilton lingered, his jaw tight as though he was biting back another retort, but under George’s unrelenting stare, he eventually muttered, “Goodnight, Mr. President,” and left.

George turned his attention to Thomas, who remained seated, rubbing at his temples. “Mr. Jefferson,” George said, his tone softening just slightly, “you’re welcome to stay here tonight. You live farther than the rest, and it’s too dark to travel safely.”

Thomas hesitated, glancing toward the emptying room. “I appreciate the offer,” he said finally, his voice subdued. “Thank you, Mr. President.”

As the others filed out, Thomas pushed himself to his feet. He moved slowly, fatigue etched into every line of his face. His gaze drifted toward Y/N’s empty chair, and something in him stirred—a flicker of curiosity, perhaps more. He hadn’t properly acknowledged her during the meeting, but now her absence left the room feeling oddly incomplete.

His thoughts were interrupted when George cleared his throat. Thomas straightened, nodding to the President before heading toward the stairs. But as he passed the hall leading to the kitchen, he stopped. Y/N was there, speaking softly with one of the housemaids as she helped clear away the tea service.

He stepped closer, feeling his exhaustion more keenly now but unwilling to let the night end without a word. “Miss L/N,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Y/N turned, startled at first but quickly recovering. “Mr. Jefferson,” she replied with a polite nod. “You’ve had a long day. I didn’t expect you to still be awake.”

Thomas managed a faint smile, though his usual charm was muted by weariness. “It seems I’ll be staying here tonight. I thought it only proper to introduce myself before retiring.”

Her brow arched slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. “Well, I appreciate your sense of propriety. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jefferson.”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss L/N,” he said, though his voice carried more sincerity than flair. For a moment, he considered saying more—something clever, something to match the sharpness in her eyes—but the weight of the day pressed too heavily on him.

Instead, he inclined his head. “Goodnight, Miss L/N.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Jefferson,” she said, watching as he turned and disappeared down the hall.

In the quiet of the guest room, Thomas loosened his cravat and sank onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. He couldn’t deny the intrigue she stirred in him—a woman who seemed as sharp as she was composed. But for now, his thoughts faded, overtaken by exhaustion. He let his head fall back against the pillows, the noise of the evening giving way to silence as sleep claimed him.

Authors note - Please tell me what to fix if I need so, Ive written before but never posted.

[jestersprivilegee]

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?

[multifamdomfan]

I saw that you were looking for Hamilton request, I hope I’m not late but what about Hamilton sister!reader and Thomas Jefferson, reader and Hamilton were at a ball and they strayed away,and Thomas decided reader caught his eyes and started flirting with them, and Alexander found out, thank you if you even see this I know how hard it is to write!

Dear Diary,

Thomas Jefferson was hosting a ball and invited all of his coworkers including my brother to show off his wealth.I haven't met the man at the time but everything that I heard about him was negative.

Alex didn't want to go but Eliza told him that it would be rude to refuse so he agreed only if I would come too for moral support.

We went to the ball then Alex saw Mr. Washington and approached him after making sure that I was okay by myself. Then Thomas Jefferson approached me and asked me to dance and I accepted.

He was nice enough and had witty banter with flirtatious comments here and there. It was all going smoothly until my brother showed up tearing us apart and dragged me home. But not before I got his address so we could write letters.

[knowltonsrangers]

back to the wall

1776!Thomas Jefferson x reader

[a/n: after a rewatch of 1776 last night, I cannot help myself.]

The echo of the front door shutting over rouses you slightly, but not enough to pull you to complete consciousness. There wasn't enough urgency to yank you from your warm prison, bundling deeper into the sheets when you hear someone begin to ascend the stairs.

Feeling yourself visibly pale, your eyes blink open, scrambling so quickly to get out of bed that you fall out of it with an agonizing thump.

"y/n?"

Your bedroom door swings open, the voice in question laced with concern as you struggle to unwind yourself from the blankets on the floor, curiously peaking over the edge of your bed to catch a glimpse of the intruder.

"Thomas?"

You whisper, surprised at first, your heartbeat finally quelling when you meet his worried gaze.

"Why on earth are you on the floor?"

"I-uh, hang on,"

Silently cursing yourself for twisting yourself so deep into the blankets to seek warmth, you finally break free as Thomas rounds the bed, staring down at you, amused.

"I was cold, can you blame me?"

Almost a whine, you stand off the floor, running past the discarded sheets to give the redhead a hug.

"y/n, I-oof!"

Your arms come around his waist, pressing greedily to his chest to try and reclaim some of the warmth you've been missing.

"Missed me that much, did you?"

"Mhm, that would be correct."

"I was trying to get inside without waking you, but I guess instead I scared you,"

His hand runs up and down your back, dead tired and ready to crawl into bed and never leave it. But he knew better, he had to be back to work in the morning, yet escaping his responsibilities for just a few hours wouldn't be any harm.

"That's alright. I'm sure you're tired,"

Pulling away slightly, your hands rest on his chest, peering up at him as he nods his head.

"As much as I'd love to sit and talk with you, my y/n, I do not think I will be good company. I can hardly keep my eyes open as we speak."

You pause, just for a brief moment, when a smile finds its way to your lips.

"Sit,"

You instruct, motioning to the edge of the bed as Thomas wastes no time in obliging, beginning to take off his boots as you gather the blankets from the floor.

"I assume you’ll be back to it in the morning?" You ask, but already know the answer.

"Yes. And believe me, I have a very long list of things i'd rather be doing."

He lays back, flat on the bed, feet on the ground, looking over at you curious, as to what you were doing.

"Get in bed properly,"

You laugh, noticing the exhaustion in the mans entire body. He relents, standing on achy joints to his side of the bed, hand reaching for yours to pull you to him.

"I'll miss you,"

A whisper captures your voice once more, back pressed to Thomas' front, his arm around your stomach as the clock ticks onwards into the night.

"I will be here,"

"Same time, tomorrow?"

You blink, a beat passes, and with how still he laid, you thought he had finally succumbed to sleep.

"Always."

[that-damn-fouth-chaosemerald]

Did anybody thought of yandere! Thomas Jefferson from Hamilton?

Cause I did.

And I'm not afraid to write it.

And I will, eventually.

[villxinmiixx]

would people be interested if i wrote hamilton ( musical / original broadway cast ) fics 🙊🙊 I cannot contain it no more i wanna write hamilton fics

[villxinmiixx]

crying sobbing

The Plan

WIDEOUT MASTERLIST

Series: WIDEOUT (chpt viii)

Note: Thank you @braidedchallah for proofreading. Reminder — before you kill me — there is one chapter left (and an epilogue). Keep that in mind. Enjoy. Feel free to yell at me afterwards. If you’re reading this, I’m sorry for what you’re about to experience.

Word Count: 12.2k

Pairing: Football Player!Thomas Jefferson x Tutor!Reader

Warnings: angst. possible breakup. perhaps some crying. implied sex (more than once). thom being a perfect boyfriend. thom looking fine af in denim (i’m trash).

Summary: Goodbyes are hard.

Tags: @coololdsoulpoetlove @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @lilangeldevil006 @pana-ce-a @merrahonthawall @katierpblogg @thespianbooks @a-hopeless-fan @uniquelystarchildthedragon @wcreech @sabbrriiinnaa @imperial-martian @harpersmariano @icanneverbesatisfied @underthewillowtreerycb @i-know-i-can @astralaffairs @braidedchallah​ (if i forgot anyone i apologize, just lemme know for next time)

As one of the smartest kids in your graduating class, you have a certain reputation to uphold. Maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA isn’t easy, which means that you have to choose all the right answers and make all the right decisions. 

As it turns out, you seem to be pretty good at that. Being right about a lot of things, academic or not, seems to come naturally to you. Especially when it comes to a certain curly-haired athlete who also happens to be your boyfriend of over a year.

You had been right when you told him that he would recover from his ankle injury on the night it happened. Well, you can’t be entirely sure of that yet since he’s still not clear to engage in full-action sports, but it’s incredibly clear that he’s well on his way to recovering fully.

Almost exactly seven weeks after the incident, he’d gotten his cast removed and replaced with a boot so that he could put weight on his ankle again. Since then, he’s been in physical therapy almost daily in order to make sure that he’s healing the right way. According to him, he’s progressing well every week and is slowly regaining his mobility, strength, and speed. Just two weeks ago he ditched the boot so that he could finally put on a pair of shoes; you remember the grin on his face when he gave you a little dance to show off the new kicks he’d gotten as celebration.

He’s not 100% healthy yet, and he certainly won’t be back on the field (or track) for another couple months until he’s clear to practice, but you’re proud that he’s been able to recover as much as he has in relatively so little time.

Keep reading

[girlkisser13]

riordanverse masterlist

pjo & hoo

annabeth chase

clarisse la rue

drew tanaka

frank zhang

hazel levesque

jason grace

leo valdez

luke castellan

nico di angelo

perseus "percy" jackson

piper mclean

rachel elizabeth dare

reyna ramírez-arellano

thalia grace

william "will" solace

multiple

cabin headcanons

taking the hoo girls to prom

taking the pjo & hoo characters to the eras tour

the kane chronicles

carter kane

sadie kane

zia rashid

walt stone

magnus chase and the gods of asgard

alex fierro

blitzen

halfborn gunderson

hearthstone

magnus chase

mallory keen

samirah al abbas

thomas jefferson jr.

[astralaffairs]

Don't mean to pressure you or anything but I really miss fotp and that last chap had me wanting to tear my heart open (TT)

If you're up for it, can I request for a short fluff abt mc and president t's marriage life? Or if you're still feeling villain-y, an angst will do! 😚

Hope you're having a fine dayyy, love all your works btw! 🫶🏻

astralaffairs villain era canceled. let me also refer u to late nights & speech writes for some president thom husband material

‐----------------

“And where the hell have you been?” Strong hands grabbed Y/N by the waist the minute she locked the door behind her, and she squealed, stumbling over the hem of her long dress as she was pulled into a strong body. Rough wool scratched her bare shoulders. “‘S late. A woman like you shouldn’t be out all on your own like this. Who knows what coulda happened.”

Her laugh was breathless as Thomas kissed her neck, his stubble harsh against her skin, and her hands came to cover his as his arms wrapped around her waist. “Oh, please. I don’t think I’ve left the White House in the last 72 hours; I’m not exactly looking for trouble.”

“So why’ve you been out all night, hm?” He nipped at her earlobe, but she rolled her eyes. “Who’ve you been with all this time, sugar?”

“That Russian ambassador who did not want to hear that I have an early morning tomorrow,” she said dryly. “This is the worst part about state dinners. All the old men in the room still talk to me like I’m their young prospect rather than a peer in government who’s here as my job.”

“They’re all goddamn relics; don’t let ‘em get to you,” Thomas said. “They’re dinosaurs, and they’re gonna be dead in a few months, anyway.”

“At this rate, they’ll also be running entire countries when they’re on life support,” Y/N grumbled, and his laugh was sardonic.

“‘N they’re still gonna be tryin’ to hit on you when they’re hauling oxygen tanks around here behind ‘em.” He turned her around in his arms, and her drained expression made him frown. Her eyes looked empty. “‘M sorry you don’t get the respect you deserve at these events, though, sweetheart. Wish there was something more I could do."

"I don't expect you to be able to end all sexism in government, believe me," she said, reaching up to loosen his tie. "Doesn't help that they all see you as the ultimate guy's guy, though. Thomas Jefferson, the good all-American trust-fund baby who loves steak and baseball."

"Maybe I'll eat some tofu 'n take up figure skating," he suggested mildly as she slid her hands under the collar of his blazer, pushing it down his shoulders. He withdrew his arms from her waist for just long enough to shake the jacket off, discarding it on the chair by his desk in the corner. "I've always thought there was a whole lotta power in embracing the traditionally feminine."

"Sure you have," she scoffed. He grinned, taking a step back toward their bed with her in his arms as she started undoing the knot in his tie. "You regularly smoke cigars with foreign heads of state to celebrate national alliances. You're the epitome of the boys club."

"Hey, I smoke the cigars with women holdin' office too," he defended. She slid his tie out from the collar of his shirt.

"You're truly a feminist icon." The words were ironic as she pulled his button down out from where he'd tucked it into the waist of his pants, walking him back toward their bed all the while, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You're talkin' a whole lotta mess for somebody who's trying to undress me."

"You're not putting up much of a fight." She raised an expectant eyebrow, looking him in the eye as she undid his belt buckle, and when he pulled her close, she slid her hands up his chest. She fiddled with the top button on his dress shirt as he guided both of them through the final few steps between him and the foot of their bed.

"'N you're awful lucky I'm not." As he sat on the edge of the mattress, she stood between his parted thighs as he pulled her dress up her legs. "You just came home from a long night of work, 'n all you wanna do is objectify me? 'M a whole lot more than just a hot body, Ms. L/N."

Despite his words, when the hem of her dress was high enough for him to slide his hands under it, he pulled her onto the bed with him, straddling his lap as his hands ran up her bare thighs. She cocked her head to one side.

"You mean 'Mrs. Jefferson'?" she asked, and he grinned.

"Yeah, but I like it a whole lot better when you say it." He pushed her dress up her body until her hands covered his to pull it over her head, and although she didn't seem particularly concerned with where it landed, she suddenly felt very exposed in just her lingerie on his lap. His eyes didn't stray from her face, however. He pulled her closer by her bare waist, and her arms hung loosely over his shoulders. The open ends of his belt poked at her inner thighs. "Reminds all those Russian diplomats you're off the market."

"I have a feeling Nebenzya isn't trying to steal me away," she said, but Thomas shrugged. "With the way he talks about you, he might be hoping we're looking for a third."

"Unfortunately for Vasily, he wouldn't be at the top of my list," Thomas said, and Y/N's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, you have a list, now?" she asked. He gave a lazy grin.

"Sugar, I've always had a list," he informed her, and she frowned. He kissed her downturned lips. "If we're working from the number one spot, though, we might have some trouble."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I've got a feeling John Adams wouldn't be too amenable to the idea," he said frankly, and Y/N's surprised laugh was closer to a scoff. "'N I don't feel like we know John Jay well enough as a couple, so that's not gonna fly, but inviting Lafayette just feels like it'd make things weird between all of us."

"Is your whole list made up of men?”

“‘Course.” His answer was immediate, but her skeptical gaze didn’t waver. He ran his hands down her thighs. “You already know you’re the only woman I got eyes for.”

“You’re so corny,” she said softly, running her hands down his shoulders to his upper chest. She picked at the buttons on his dress shirt. "Better tone it down before I get the wrong idea and fall in love with you."

"Now, we certainly can't have that."

"Especially not now. I'm too busy to take a lover, I'm afraid," she said, working down the buttons on his shirt to reveal his bare chest. "I'm just married to my work these days."

"'N you mean that literally, don't you, Madam First Lady?" He undid his cufflinks when she finished with his buttons, and he slid them into his pocket. However, he didn't take the shirt off despite her pushing its fabric down his shoulders. Rather, he took her hands in his, lacing his fingers into hers. "You're just a regular Mrs. America."

"You're really gonna stop me from taking your shirt off after you got me down to my underwear?"

"If I let you finish undressing me, it's gonna be a while before we get to sleep," he said, and she shrugged innocently. "We've gotta be up again in five hours. We both oughta get some rest."

"Being the first couple isn't nearly as sexy as I hoped it'd be." She sat back on her heels, resting her hands on his legs, and he gave her a tired smile. "Take the rest of your clothes off and come to bed, at least. I feel like I've hardly seen you all week."

"Right now, I'm all yours," he assured her. "Lemme get up 'n get some pajamas, though. Put on something other than a full suit for once."

"Just sleep without them," she countered, and he raised an eyebrow. "I like the feeling of your skin against mine. Just makes me feel more connected to you, I guess."

"You're adorable." He kissed her on the forehead, his smile endeared, and she could feel the heat rising to the tips of her ears as he leaned back to take his shirt off. After he did, though, he pulled her in closer, picking her up by her thighs as he stood, and she yelped, grabbing onto his shoulders. When he deposited her on his side of the bed, he undid his dress pants, taking them off before joining her on the mattress.

He crawled atop her where she lay on her back watching him, and as he dipped down to kiss her, one hand slid under her back, and she arched up against him. However, as he kissed down her neck, he unhooked her bra and leaned back to slide it down her arms. When he discarded it onto the floor, she was watching him with wide eyes, but he only kissed her forehead before rolling off of her and pulling the covers over them both. He reached over to turn off the lamp at his bedside.

"For what it's worth," he murmured as he wrapped an arm around her waist, and she rolled onto her side, letting him pull her into his body, "we've got plenty of time to sleep in on Saturday morning."

"Oh, yeah?" She rested her arm atop his, lacing her fingers into his.

"Mhm." He kissed the back of her shoulder. "So Friday night, you better not come home too tired."

"I'm gonna need all my energy for when I find you and Adams in our bed, huh?" When his hold on her tightened, his cold feet brushed against her shins, and she shivered.

"Not this time, sweetheart," he promised. "Once I get you alone, you better bet I'm not sharing you."

[demonkitty-toebeanz]

I love Daveed diggs ❤️ that's all that's the post

[aanoia]

All I Need is You

Daveed Diggs x reader

Summary; after a suicide attempt you're empty yet Daveed never left your side. What happens when you drag him down with you?

Warnings; suicide, self harm, bandages, sadness ig

Words; idk but it's short

Also wrote this a while ago but I kinda like it.

Requests are welcome and encouraged!

If you're struggling with self harm or suicidal thoughts please reach out! You have people in your life that care enough to stay with you the way Daveed does in this fic, you just need to give them a chance.

I'd also like to note that the way this fic plays out is not how it aways goes. Please do not just not reach out abt your mental health due to a fear of dragging people down with you.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” Daveed quietly asked, sitting down on the bed and gently rubbing my arm.

I laid motionless, my mind blank.

“I’m not,” I responded. My voice was hoarse. How long has it been since I’ve said more than three words at once?

Daveed sighed and carefully helped me sit up. I rested against the headboard as he slowly unwrapped the bandages around my wrists. It was quiet as he cleaned the wounds, the only sound was our breathing. Oh how I wish I wasn’t breathing right now. He wrapped clean bandages around the cuts.

He sat, rubbing his thumb across the bandages.

“I love you so much,” He whispered and looked into my eyes. “We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this. I know you will, you’re so strong, my love,”

“Daveed,” I whispered, a happy glint filled his eyes, optimism flooded his bones.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“I don’t want to get through this,” I told him and laid back down, turning away from him.

He paused before getting up and leaving the room. I heard him. His sobbing. He’s breaking. Honestly, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

The cycle repeated daily. He’d feed me, bathe me, change my bandages, then go have a breakdown outside our room when he didn’t see any improvement. Every day I’d hear him cry. Deep down my heart ached in him. He was the love of my life, of course it hurt to hear him cry. But my heart doesn’t control my body. My brain does. And my brain is dead. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t want to live. Even if it means making Daveed happy. Ain’t that selfish?

Today must’ve been particularly hard for Daveed. I could see it in his eyes when he came to give me food. He was tired. Exhausted. And when he left to cry nothing came. Until it did.

Loud crashes broke the silence. Grunts, and yells of utter pain and despair could be heard. His sobs echoed through the house louder than ever. Self-deprecating words cut through the silence. Something snapped in me.

I was letting myself die, and dragging Daveed down with me. I was not only killing myself, but killing the love of my life as well. What am I doing? Am I really so selfish that I’d ruin someone else’s life so I can be okay? No. The answer is no.

I pushed my aching bones and tired muscles. Slowly I lifted myself out of bed. A dizzy spell fell over me and I grabbed onto the wall for support. Carefully I made my way to the door and opened it. Pain coursed through my veins as I followed the sobs, but I ignored it. No more.

Daveed has helped me in ways I can’t even imagine. He’s putting his own mental health on the line for me. Me. Anyone else would’ve left me after a week of nothing but laying in bed. But he didn’t. He stuck around. And now I’ll stick around for him as well.

I entered the living room to find a hunched over Daveed. I only now noticed how his hair was a mess, he hasn’t been taking care of it. His clothes were wrinkled and in a disarray. I quietly walked over to him and knelt down behind him. His body shook as I wrapped my bulky, bandaged arms around him.

We stayed there for hours, gently rocking back and forth. We had each other. That’s all we needed.

[newusernameidk]

BEYOND MONTICELLO - CHAPTER NINE

| A Thomas Jefferson x Reader fanfic |

Thomas sat in his study, the room unusually quiet for the time of day. A quill rested between his fingers, poised to write, but his thoughts were elsewhere—on the tension with Patsy that lingered like a shadow. He had been avoiding the conversation he knew was inevitable, but today, he decided it was time to face it.

He found her sitting on the porch, a book in her lap and her expression distant. She looked so much like her mother in that moment that it twisted something in his chest. Steeling himself, Thomas walked over and cleared his throat.

“Patsy,” he began softly. “May I join you?”

She glanced up, her eyes narrowing slightly before she nodded. “If you’d like.”

Thomas sat beside her, the silence stretching between them for several moments before he finally spoke. “I know we haven’t been… on the best of terms lately. And I think I understand why.”

Patsy’s lips tightened. “Do you?”

“I’ve been distant. For far too long. I told myself I was doing what was best for you and Polly—working to build a better future—but in doing so, I failed to be there when you needed me most. When your mother…” His voice faltered, and he had to take a moment before continuing. “When your mother passed, I thought throwing myself into my work would help. But it didn’t. It just hurt you.”

Patsy’s eyes glistened, but her voice was firm. “You left us, Papa. You left me to care for Polly, to figure everything out on my own. I was just a child too.”

“I know,” Thomas said quietly. “And I have no excuse. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I wasn’t. I should have been here. For you. For Polly.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression a mix of anger and sorrow. “Do you even know how scared I was? How lost? And now, you come back and expect everything to go back to the way it was?”

“No,” he said firmly, meeting her gaze. “I don’t expect that. I don’t deserve that. But I want to try, Patsy. I want to be better—for you and your sister. I can’t undo the past, but I can do better moving forward.”

Her lips trembled, and she looked away, blinking rapidly. “You hurt us, Papa. And it’s going to take time to forgive you.”

Thomas nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “I understand. And I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

For the first time in what felt like years, Patsy’s expression softened. She glanced at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Polly misses you too, you know. She just doesn’t say it.”

Thomas felt a lump in his throat and reached out to place a tentative hand over hers. “I’ll work to earn back both of your trust. I promise.”

Patsy didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she gave a small nod, a flicker of hope breaking through the lingering hurt. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start.

_____________________________________

The ink on the parchment was still fresh when Thomas set down his quill, his hand lingering over the words he had written. He had taken his time with the letter, each sentence carefully crafted, each word deliberate. After everything that had happened, the tension with Patsy, his lingering feelings for Y/N, it felt both right and wrong to ask her to come to Monticello. But in his heart, he knew he wanted to see her again, to share a quiet evening with her away from the political chaos.

He read the letter over once more, then folded it with a careful hand. It was a simple request—nothing more than an invitation, but it carried weight. He sealed the envelope and, with a sigh, handed it off to one of his servants to deliver.

The next afternoon, as the sun hung low in the sky, Thomas paced near the front of Monticello, awaiting her arrival. His thoughts were a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Polly was busy with a book, seemingly unaware of the undercurrent of tension, while Patsy had taken a walk to clear her head. Thomas was left alone with his thoughts, counting the minutes until the letter would find its way to Y/N.

The carriage arrived, breaking him from his reverie. He stepped forward, his breath catching as she emerged from the carriage, her presence a quiet balm for the unease that had settled in him all day.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his voice soft but genuine. “Thank you for coming.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes warm. “You made it sound like a lovely evening, Thomas How could I refuse?” She took a moment, her gaze sweeping over the house behind him. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect the invitation to come so soon.”

He chuckled, a hint of tension easing in his shoulders. “I suppose I wanted to take advantage of a rare opportunity. We’ve both been so caught up in our own worlds that it seems only right to finally spend some time together.”

As they walked up the stone path together, Thomas glanced toward the house and nodded toward the open door. “Would you stay for dinner? I’d like for you to meet my daughter, Patsy, and of course, Polly would be pleased to see you again.”

Y/N’s eyes softened at the mention of Polly, but she hesitated for a moment. “I’d be happy to stay, Thomas. I’ve grown quite fond of Polly in our short time together. And meeting your daughter sounds… well, it sounds lovely.”

“Good,” Thomas said, his smile growing a little more genuine as they entered the house together. “Patsy can be a bit reserved, but I’m sure you two will find common ground.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, with Polly beaming in her seat as she listened to the conversation between Thomas and Y/N. It felt, in that moment, as if the past weeks of tension had melted away, leaving space for a kind of tranquility that Thomas had almost forgotten existed.

Polly shared stories from her time at home, speaking with warmth and fondness about Monticello, while Thomas occasionally offered bits of conversation between bites of food. But the real moment came when Patsy entered the room.

She had been walking in the gardens when she returned to the house, her expression unreadable as she glanced around the dinner table. Her gaze settled on Y/N, who stood up politely to greet her.

“This is my daughter, Patsy,” Thomas said, his voice slightly tentative, but steady. “Patsy, this is Miss L/N. Y/N, as I’ve come to call her.”

Patsy offered a small nod, a faint smile curling on her lips. “It’s good to meet you, Miss L/N. I’ve heard much about you.”

Y/N smiled warmly, extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Patsy. I’ve only heard good things about you as well.”

The exchange felt civil, polite even, but there was a subtle tension in the air—one that Thomas could feel but couldn’t quite place. He couldn’t blame Patsy for her hesitation; after all, things were still uncertain between them. He only hoped that time would ease the strain.

As the dinner continued, Y/N and Patsy conversed about books, about music, and about things that bridged the gap between them. It was slow, but there was a clear shift in the air. As the night went on, Polly became more tired, her head resting against the table as she dozed off.

Thomas stood to gather the empty plates, but before he could get far, he looked over at Y/N and spoke quietly. “Thank you. For being here, for meeting Patsy and seeing Polly. It means a lot to me.”

Y/N gave him a gentle smile, one that held an understanding and unspoken promise. “I’m glad to be here, Thomas.”

_____________________________________

The house was quiet as Thomas led Y/N up the stairs, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath their feet the only sound that filled the silence. He had shown her to the guest room earlier in the evening, but now, after a long day of conversation, laughter, and moments shared between them, Y/ N found herself walking with him toward his own quarters.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Y/N paused just outside his door, glancing at him with a faint, playful smile. "I suppose I should be heading to my room," she said, her tone light but tinged with something more-something

Thomas couldn't quite place, yet it felt like an invitation.

Thomas turned to face her, his eyes soft but intent. "You don't have to, Y/N. You're welcome to stay for a while longer. I... I don't want this night to end just yet."

There was something in his voice that made her heart flutter, something deep and quiet, but undeniably real. She stepped closer, her breath catching as she met his gaze. "I could stay a little longer," she whispered, the words lingering between them like a promise.

The air shifted as Thomas stepped toward her, the space between them closing. He reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, and then his gaze fell to her lips, lingering for a moment. "Y/N," he murmured softly, his voice low, "I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together tonight. I hope you know that."

Y/N looked up at him, her pulse quickening. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've enjoyed it too."

The moment stretched between them, and before either of them could say anything more, Thomas leaned in, his lips gently brushing hers in a soft, tentative kiss. It was simple-nothing more than a delicate brush of lips-but it was enough to send a jolt of warmth through both of them.

Y/N didn't pull away.

Encouraged, Thomas deepened the kiss, his hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her with more urgency now, more desire. His heart pounded in his chest as he felt her hands slide up to his shoulders, the touch tentative at first but growing more confident as the seconds passed. His lips traced her jawline, brushing lightly against the smooth skin of her neck, and he pulled back just slightly, his breath ragged as he looked down at her.

"Do you want to go to your room now?" he asked softly, his voice thick with the emotion of the moment. "I can take you there."

Y/N's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and she leaned her forehead gently against his, her breath catching in her throat as she shook her head

"No," she whispered, the word simple but meaningful. "I'd rather be here... with you."

Thomas's heart skipped a beat as she said the words, his fingers tracing the soft curve of her jawline with his lips, his kiss growing more intense, more fervent, as he pulled her closer. He wanted her-there was no denying it now. But even as the heat of the moment swept over them, there was a tenderness in his touch, a gentleness that still held them both in a space of mutual respect.

He kissed her again, this time with more certainty, his hands finding their way to the small of her back, guiding her gently toward the bed.

As they reached it, he broke the kiss just long enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with an unspoken question.

Y/N, her breath shallow, smiled softly and nodded. "I'm right where I want to be," she murmured, her hand finding its way to his chest as she drew him closer, the space between them shrinking once more.

And for the rest of that night, neither of them said a word-there was no need for it. They simply allowed the silence to envelop them, a silent understanding settling between them, as they gave in to the comfort of each other's arms.

[jestersprivilegee]

Hey, roomie! Ch. 1

Thomas j. x reader

Modern au!

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

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

word count: 2.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a foolish mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You been keeping track or something?”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

That sentence alone only added to your distaste for him.

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

It was torture.

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

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

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

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

“He sounds immature,” she comments.

“He is!” You say through gritted teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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