#too busy with comms this week... AND im sleepy...

[todayisafridaynight]

yk in retrospect it really is no surprise that rgg has a lot of queer fans. outside of the games being utterly homosexual of course

[yourobedientslytherin]

Bonjour, Bitches! {Jefferson x Reader} ~ Part 1

Jefferson x Reader - Modern AU {Tech Company} 

1,552 words

Warnings: none :D 

A/N: Guess who’s baaaaaack!!! So...turns out I can’t write while I have freakin’ homework hanging over my head. Glad we figured that out. The good news is I’m almost on spring break (woooooo), which means I’ll prolly crank out the next parts of this long, long-awaited series in short succession. Really sorry about the time it took to write/post this. Also, I know this probably isn’t as exciting as you hoped, but it’ll get better. Im pinky promise :D 

A/N 2: Also, I didn’t proofread this bc I was so excited to get it posted!! 

Thomas Jefferson, retrieval specialist and hitman, pulled his hair into a ponytail with a sigh. It was supposed to be an easy job—just get the information, plant the virus, and get out. Two weeks tops. But on Day 20 of the job, Jefferson did not find himself lounging in his new mansion in Virginia like he had planned. Instead he was walking to yet another board meeting with Alexander Hamilton, the up-and-coming tech mogul, and his brilliant team of programmers, media consultants, and PR reps.

Hamilton made Jefferson’s blood boil, and not just because Hamilton was Jefferson’s rival in the market of technology. The man was so arrogant and opinionated. Their countless meetings dragged by, simultaneously irritating and boring Jefferson to the point of tears. He disagreed with Hamilton on every major issue involving the company, but Jefferson couldn’t say anything because he was Gilbert Lafayette, at least he had assumed Lafayette’s identity.

Lafayette, Hamilton’s French PR coordinator, had only begun working with Hamilton for two and a half weeks before Jefferson arrived, which wasn’t enough time for Hamilton or the rest of the team to really get a good idea of what his temperament was like. Therefore, Jefferson only had to mimic Lafayette’s knowledge of the project and his appearance, which was strikingly similar. They were both around the same height and had similar dark skin, curly black hair, and sleepy-looking features. Virtually the only difference was that Lafayette pulled his hair into a ponytail while Jefferson preferred to keep his down. Jefferson’s employer had made sure Lafayette was sent back to France to work on another project, and he wasn’t scheduled to return for another month. Any correspondence from Hamilton’s team to Lafayette was sent to Jefferson’s email and/or phone, cutting off Lafayette so he wouldn’t be suspicious and giving Jefferson access to all information concerning the project. His employer had been very thorough when thinking about the details.

Deep in thought, Jefferson walked down the hallway, his long legs carrying him at a quick pace, and rounded the corner to the conference room. He checked his phone, confirming that he still had several minutes before the meeting started.

Suddenly, he felt someone bump into him and heard both a whoosh as papers fell to the floor and a gasp in his ear. He turned, and his body reacted before his mind registered what just happened. He reached out and grabbed your waist as you fell, pulling your back into his front.

Hercules Mulligan picked that exact moment to poke his head out the conference room door. He loudly guffawed, staring at Jefferson intertwined with this poor girl.

Jefferson followed Herc’s gaze to where his hands were, not around your waist as he had originally thought, but around your chest, touching your breast. You quickly wiggled out of his arms with an indignant cry, your face turning as red as your dress.

“What the hell?” you shouted.

“I am so sorry,” he breathed, forgetting his assumed French accent for a moment. “Are you okay?”

You tried to discreetly rub your sore breast; he had quite the grip. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

His deep brown eyes searched your face for a moment. Satisfied that that, and possibly a bruised ego, was the extent of your injuries, he bent down and picked up the papers strewn about your feet. Oh, shit. Did I forget the French accent? he thought.

“My humblest apologies,” he said with the accent, handing you the papers. “I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear you coming.”

“What happened to your accent?” you asked sourly.

He froze. “Que?”

You rolled your eyes. “Forget it. Just watch what you’re doing.”

Jefferson’s eyes followed you as you walked into the conference room, clutching your papers to your chest. His heart sunk a little as he realized that you were the new PR representative Hamilton had hired. You two were going to work together on a lot of projects.

Clenching his jaw, he slipped into Lafayette’s goofy, laid-back persona and walked into the conference room.

“Bonjour, bitches!” he shouted, internally glaring at the group who excitedly acknowledged his presence.

“Hey, Laf!” greeted John Laurens.

“What were you up to just now?” Herc teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Jefferson and you.

The team consisted of Alexander Hamilton, the boss; Hercules Mulligan, media consultant; Laurens, some sort of programmer; Lafayette/Jefferson; and Aaron Burr, financial advisor. You glared at him from your seat next to Burr and rolled your shoulders.

“Laf,” Hamilton said, catching your attention. “This is Y/N. She’s the new PR representative.”

Jefferson nodded curtly at you. “Oui, we have already, how you say, ‘run into’ each other.”

Hamilton missed the tension between the two of you and turned to you. “Y/N, this is Gilbert Lafayette, our French PR representative. You two will become great friends in the next couple of months.”

Your expression ran through surprise, disgust, and irritation in a shockingly short span of time, settling on grim acceptance. You held your hand out to Jefferson.

“Nice to meet you,” you said coldly, your eyes flashing dangerously.

He took your hand, fighting the urge to gasp as your touch literally shocked him. Apparently you felt it too because you quickly withdrew your hand and sat back down.

Jefferson watched you with a confused expression for the length of the meeting, trying to figure out what it was about you that had his mind sprinting a million miles a second. No girl had ever made his body react that way before. He’d definitely dated before, sometimes even girls he met on the job, but they’d always been distant from the mark. No distractions, no mistakes. That was his motto.

“So you just click here, and then again here, and you should be good to go,” the IT guy—Chris? Carl? Cody?—told you, leaning over your shoulder as he guided you through the program.

He was too close to you to be displaying appropriate workplace behavior—you could almost feel his breath on your neck and smell his spicy cologne. Were there any men at this company who would respect your personal space? In the four hours that you’d worked here, a man had already gotten to second base with you and now another one was about ready to blow in your ear.

You gritted your teeth and forced a smile.

“Thanks, I think I got it now,” you told the IT guy, dismissing him.

Flashing you a grin, he left, disappearing into the blackness of the IT caves. You fought a shiver and turned back to your monitor.

“Bonjour!” A man popped up on the other side of your cubicle wall, tentatively smiling at you.

You resisted the urge to scream for a moment’s peace and looked up, cocking an eyebrow. It was the guy from the meeting, the one who grabbed your breast. You hadn’t been able to get a good look at him when you first met, mostly because you had been busy avoiding eye contact with him in the meeting. He had dark curly hair tightly pulled into a ponytail. His neatly trimmed facial hair framed perfect, plump pink lips that parted to reveal a dazzling white smile. His sleepy puppy dog eyes held your gaze confidently despite the awkwardness between the two of you.

Of course he was attractive.

Your mood darkened a little more.

“How can I help you?”

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” he murmured, his voice sounding as sleepy as his eyes looked, like he’d just rolled out of bed. “It was a, how you say, reflex. I was merely trying to save you.”

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek as you tried to decide what to say. If you said it was no big deal, he wouldn’t respect you and he might try something again. If you let him have a piece of your mind, it would make working with him very difficult. You decided to go with a moderate approach.

“Just don’t let it happen again, and we won’t have a problem, mon collégue,” you replied.

“Oh, you speak Français?” he asked, sounding apprehensive instead of delighted.

“Oui, j’ai vécu en France pendant un an.” (Yes, I lived in France for a year.)

“Oh, comme c’est merveilleux.” (Oh, how wonderful.) His expression didn’t match his words. “I also came over here to set up a time to begin speaking and collaborating about that project we are doing together.”

He skillfully changed the subject, you realized, but you let it slide and opened your calendar on your computer.

“Well, so far I have the whole week free, except for a meeting tomorrow morning. Any time works for me.”

“How about after lunch today? I’m sure you have a, how you say, boyfriend, who will eat with you today. To celebrate your employment.”

You shook your head. “No boyfriend. I was just going to go try that sushi place around the corner. I’ve heard good things.”

“Non,” he said emphatically, “that place is no good. There is a little French restaurant two streets from here. I will take you there.”

You hesitate. Two hours ago this guy grabs your boob after he almost knocks you over, and now he’s asking you to lunch? 

“I guess since you got to second base already, you should take me to lunch,” you teased. “I usually make guys take me to dinner first.”

Tagged: 

@inimitabledaveed @living-breathing-bibliophile @theroomwhereithxppens @loqanhowlet @desperatepenguin722