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overdrivels · 7 years

Note

Could I request something with the good old-fashioned 'we have to share a bed because there's only one and no one told us beforehand' trope? With either Hanzo or McCree; you can decide which. (Like one of them and the reader get assigned to the same mission and have to stay a hotel or safehouse or something, idk.)

It’s Snow Problem

I am 9000% convinced that Hanzo would take the stupid floor if there wasn’t some really good reason behind it (like the floor was lava). So I mashed up two tropes: one bed + we’re going to freeze to death unless we share body heat.

The only reason why I never picked up this trope was because I would personally pick the floor. I’m very used to sleeping on hard surfaces, so the floor would be my preferred sleeping place unless there was, like I said before, lava.

“Da-damn, t-the–the he-h-heat’s n, not working eith-either?”

You literally could not stop your teeth from chattering or your fingers from trembling as you desperately messed around with the dial on the very, very outdated radiator. Didn’t this cabin have some sort of code to follow? You can’t be sure if the dial isn’t turning because it’s frozen or if you just couldn’t put enough strength into your frozen digits.

“There’s n-no hot water.”

Behind you, Hanzo steps out from the bathroom, barely able to contain the shaking in his voice. His heavy coat was positively encrusted with white, glittering ice decorated his hair, the dying rays of the sun catching them and lighting them up obnoxiously. It showed no sign of melting anytime soon. His face was red with windburn—you’re sure you didn’t look any better—and his breath hung around him like a ghostly veil.

It’d be a miracle if neither of you managed to catch a cold or worse.

You curse your luck and at Winston who sent you both here to Yukon on this mission to investigate rumors about Talon activity. Something about a hidden laboratory deep in the icy tundra of the Yukon. The two of you almost got caved in when you entered the space—it seemed to have been a final defense mechanism for Talon’s abandoned bases.

In hindsight, you really should’ve asked Mei to switch with you when she was assigned to go the Bahamas. Mei looked absolutely miserable when she was asked to go. You have no doubt she has the same thoughts as you at this moment. She never really did like showing off her skin.

It wasn’t as though you were both entirely unprepared–extra set of clothes, self-activating heat packs (courtesy of Genji), blankets, and other supplies that would’ve proven useful in the situation.

That is, if those supplies were drenched in the brief swim they took down some slushy body of water. In your defense, the footing was bad and in both your defenses, neither of you could afford to jump into the fast-moving waters. Luckily, Hanzo had managed to pin it to fallen tree with a well-aimed arrow. Retrieving it proved a little more harrowing than expected: you both nearly fell in when the tree partially gives out, leaving your pants and boots soaked. Luckily, the journey back to the cabin was a short one, saving you both from the possibility freezing your limbs. But not short enough to avoid the storm that is currently raging outside.

You cross the room to look out the window—it’s almost completely frosted over. The telltale ‘squish’ of your boots remind you of just how uncomfortable wet socks are and that they need to come off along with any other clothes that you have on.

“The-the generator’s out-outside. Sh-shit.”

It doesn’t look like the storm is going to let up anytime soon either. Going out there may be the equivalent of suicide. The lingering cold that roots itself firmly into your bones remind you of just how unforgiving the weather can be. The fireplace itself is empty, all the wood being outside. It’s probably all wet anyway.

“There’s no signal,” Hanzo announces, setting his communicator down on the table. You politely ignore how he nearly knocks it to the ground with the way his fingers shake.

“Looks-looks like we-we’ll have to wea-we-weather this one out. God damn it all.”

No electricity, no heat, no communications, no hot water–no people in sight of your tiny cabin window, it’s practically a repeat of the Omnic Crisis, just with less shit burning to the ground. If you both want to survive the night, there were some things you had to handle first. Namely, getting out of these clothes that are no longer doing anything to contain your body heat. A bulb of dread and anxiety drops into your stomach, swimming around for a brief moment.

You take a quick glance at Hanzo who seems preoccupied with checking his bow with whatever little light is left. In a few minutes, you’ll be lucky to see your hands in front of your own faces. It’s a small comfort that he won’t be able to see you (but your traitorous mind wonders what he would think if he did see). You shake your head to cast away those thoughts, droplets of cold water flinging everywhere. First thing’s first.

You take a breath for courage, and begin to tearing off your soaked gloves with your teeth, your other hand too clumsy to be of much help. You almost gag, the taste of melted snow and worn plastic fills your mouth.

Your attempts to undress must’ve attracted Hanzo’s attention. He sounds positively scandalized when he hisses, “What are you doing?”

“We need–we need to get out of these clothes.”

You could sense Hanzo opening his mouth to protest and immediately cut him off before he has a chance to lecture you on dignity. “You’ll fr-freeze, Hanzo. There’s no heat, no hot water, we’re—we’re soaked. Take whatever no-n-notions you have about modesty and shove–shove ‘em; we need to stay alive.” That’s what you’re doing at the moment, anyway.

At his skeptical silence, you add, “I’ll turn around, so no need to worry–I can’t see very well in the dark, anyway.” The wind rattles the windows as though adding to your point.

Little did you know, Hanzo had been specially trained to function in the dark without the need to enhancements or fancy goggles like a certain arachnid. Assassinations didn’t usually take place in broad daylight, after all. Every movement, every twitch of your muscles was easily captured in his eyes. It is beyond distracting, but he’d never let you know that.

Despite his silence, you know that Hanzo understands the sense you are making when you also hear the rustle of clothes behind you. Satisfied with his compliance (and that you won’t have to report to anyone that someone died because they refused to take of their clothes), you continued your own disrobing.

Each particle of clothing hit the hardwood floors with a loud, wet slap, and you can feel the floor jump at the impact, almost mocking you both. The tension is almost palpable, making the act of removing your clothes even more difficult with the extra water and snow caked onto it. With each piece of clothing you lose, you shiver violently at the air that assaults you. But you clench your teeth and press on. You have your own skin to save. The greatest relief comes when you take off your socks—there’s no worse feeling outside of pain that compares to the skin-crawling squish of wet socks—even though the wooden floors are cold as all hell.

“They–they should’ve sent M-M-Mei on this mission,” you say jokingly as you wring out your shirt. “She would’ve loved this. Probably would’ve been better prepared, too.”

You only receive icy silence, your attempt at a livening the atmosphere dies as it comes out of your mouth. Hanzo seems very single-minded in his unclothing. You slap an unsteady hand to your forehead. That thought was dirty. He’s your comrade-in-arms, not a pin-up. Calm down.

Normally, your thoughts didn’t travel down this route–sure, he is attractive, but not enough to distract you. Maybe the cold’s hindering your mental facilities. That must be it.

You strip down to your underwear and, to your infinite irritation, even those were soaked somehow. You’re going to put in a complaint with Winston about his new snow and water-proof gear. You tug at your underwear, grimacing at the wetness.

‘To hell with it’, you decided as you reluctantly pulled those off, too. You glanced quickly back at Hanzo as you did, hoping that he wouldn’t see.

It’s so dark you could barely even see him.

Actually, you don’t even see the archer anywhere. You whip your head around, trying to catch sight of his outline. Where did he–?

“Here.”

You’re hit by something soft and blissfully dry. It’s a large towel, musty from disuse, but welcome, nonetheless.

“Thank–thank you.”

He grunts, and there’s the sound of him putting on his own towel. You first wring your hair through it, the icy water dripping down your bare back is far from comfortable, before you wrap it around yourself in a very pathetic attempt to get warm. It barely does its job, and you feel a little less exposed to the elements. Now that you’re no longer in danger of freezing to death via an icy cage of fabric, there are other matters to attend to.

You cast a forlorn glance at the silhouette of the duffel bag, wondering if anything survived the brief dunk in the water. You decide it’s worth a shot, and try to open it. You hiss at the stinging cold. The bag is freezing still from having been dropped into the slushy water. Next time, you’re going to take a drone and you’re going to cold-proof it so it can carry your stuff. Brilliant.

You hold the towel closed as you rummage through the contents of the bag—wet clothes, wet bags, wet and ice-encrusted everything except—

“Yes!” You pull out a thick stick, and before Hanzo could even stop you, you twist and snap it, immediately flooding the room with a warm yellow light (and accidentally blinding yourself).

Hanzo hisses like a disgruntled cat, snatching the emergency light stick from your hands as you begin to rub your eyes free of the afterimages.

When you’re finally able to open them without seeing strange colors, you had to fight to keep your mouth closed. Hanzo is completely shirtless save a towel around his midsection, covering up his stomach and upper thighs. The muscles previously hidden by the thick layers of protective gear and winter wear now exposed to the nippy air. You drop your gaze so you’re not tempted to stare—you’ve seen other sculpted men before, but the fact that it’s Hanzo makes this different somehow. Though, something seems off about him.

You keep your gaze to the floor, his legs. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, and rubbed your eyes to be sure. (It stung more than you would’ve liked.)

“You–you have legs? Human…legs?”

Behind him, what you thought were prostheses seemed to now be just empty casings, lying neatly on the ground. He glares at you but quickly turns away, arms crossed over his chest, the light making the dragons on his arm seem more ominous than usual. You’re not sure because the light itself isn’t strong enough for you to tell, but you could swear that there is a tinge of pink on his chest and cheeks.

However, his biting voice immediately drives your thoughts away from that. “Is that a problem?” The condensation from his mouth circles him like dragons. The imagery is almost frightful.

“N-no, no!” you stammer, “I just, I just thought that…y-you know what, never mind.”

You turn your back and kneel down, returning to rummaging through the contents of the wet bag, trying find something useful and to distract yourself from the awkwardness of a topic that shouldn’t be discussed. A series of shivers run down your spine at the contact. Damn, you really should’ve switched with Mei—but then she’d be stuck in this situation, and she’s not exactly comfortable with being nude, especially in the presence of others (but logically, she’d probably be the most unlikely person to be caught in this sort of situation in the first place).

You chance upon a medium size container and you immediately brighten when you realize what it is.

“Hey, Hanzo, look when I found!” You hold up the thermos, kept airtight and thus uncontaminated by the cold. Perhaps it’s a little too tight, and you struggle to get it open while using your elbows to squeeze the towel against your body.

“Allow me.”

Hanzo gently snatches it from your trembling fingers, kneeling down to meet you at eye level. You couldn’t help but watch as the light illuminates his muscles undulating as he attempts to do what you could not, and highlights the sharp angle of his face and his nose, the fullness of his lips—you had to look away. The cold must be making you delirious.

“Here.”

He’s already poured a cup for you. Even at this distance, he refused to look at you, eyes stubbornly averting your general direction. You pluck it from his hands with a quiet, “Thanks”. A close look at the contents revealed it to be more of a golden broth that the chef insisted you both take with you. The steam that rises from it is a wonderful reminder that the broth is very warm—perfect for this situation.

From the corner of your eye, you see Hanzo put his hands together and mutter a quick “いっただきます” before raising the steaming bowl to his lips and taking a hearty sip. You did the same and almost gagged at the taste.

It is somewhat metallic—strong hints of ginseng, ginger, and other flavors that you couldn’t quite place. It undoubtedly warms you, the stark contrast sends a harsh shiver down your body, skin raising with gooseflesh. Your teeth tingles from the heat, and your stomach feels a ton heavy like molten lava just made its home there. You didn’t really realize it before, but you seem to have been getting used to the cold.

You take another large, but difficult gulp; the broth leaves behind a bitter yet soothing aftertaste (you don’t think you’d drink it a second time outside of a life or death situation). You’re going to have a word with the chef when you get back to Gibraltar. You don’t know if Hanzo disliked the taste, but he didn’t comment, so neither did you. You weren’t exactly in the best position to complain about warm sustenance in the middle of a blizzard, after all.

You both ate in silence, the occasional slurp breaking it.

It probably wouldn’t be long before the other Overwatch agents noticed your disappearances—Winston had insisted on updates every six hours, and the last communications either of you had with the scientist was early this morning right before you and Hanzo went to scope the Talon lab. Since the communicator isn’t working, you wondered how long it’d take before anyone back at base realizes that you’re both stranded here.

Stupid technology, even after so many years of advancement, it still can’t send a signal in the middle of a snowstorm?

Hanzo gets up from his kneeling position, having finished his portion of soup. You’re still having some difficulty drinking it without holding your breath. Though, by the time you are done, Hanzo’s returned. He hands you some clothes hangers from the closet, now that you can both see in the dark to not stab yourself with one accidentally (unfortunate as it may be, it’s happened before).

“We should hang up our clothes so they may dry.”

You take a look at your sodden pile. “Oh, right, th-thank.” You set down your cup and take your chilly clothes into your arms and the offered hangers before stepping into the bathroom. As a side thought, you twist a knob on the sink and unsurprisingly, get nothing. You sigh. It was worth a shot.

You see that Hanzo was one step ahead of you, his clothes are already hanging neatly from the shower curtain. You wonder when he had the chance to do so without you hearing. You shake your head, it must’ve been when you were too preoccupied with stripping. Though, as you’re hanging your clothes, something else catches your eye.

A white, long rectangle of cloth hangs innocently off the railing, water dripping from it rhythmically. Wait, you recognized this. It was a…loincloth? You keep your mouth shut, teeth clenched to the point that they couldn’t even chatter. This is not a good point of conversation. Not at all. You’re sure that if you speak a word of this to anyone, you’d somehow receive an arrow to the head. Several, if Hanzo was angry enough.

So you quietly hang up your clothes, readjust your towel, and back out of the room. You sincerely hope that Hanzo does not realize you’ve seen his choice of undergarments (but to be fair, he hung them up first), you’re not sure you could ever erase the image from your mind.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t seem to even be thinking such things, instead, he’s standing there awkwardly, staring at the bed with open apprehension. Strange.

“What’s wrong?”

He continues looking at the bed, the corner of his mouth turned downward in distaste. You also squint at it like the answer would manifest itself if you stared hard enough. Was it monsters? Bed bugs?

You blink slowly at him, then at the bed.

It hits you like a freight train. It’s a problem neither of you realized when you first entered the cabin, too preoccupied with trying to get out of the storm and its non-existence comforts.

There’s only one bed.

It’s not that small, but it’s barely enough to fit the two of you, it seems. Inwardly, you groan. You’re sure that you’d never hear the end of this if any of the other Overwatch members find out.

“I will ta-take the floor,” Hanzo says briskly, already trying to establish his new place of rest by sitting down. You had to wince sympathetically when he gave a full body shiver—you could even see the goosebumps from where you stand. Not even his pride is going to be enough to keep him warm at night. His self-loathing and hate, perhaps, but again—thoughts you really shouldn’t entertain.

“You’ll freeze to death down there,” you protest, lifting up the covers. They were thick, and seem like they’d be great at keeping you warm. Unfortunately enough, there’s only one of them. “Not like there are any other blankets, either.”

He does not respond. You crawl into the bed first, biting back a gasp when your body meets the cold mattress. You position yourself as close to the wall as possible without actually touching it, leaving ample space for the archer.

When you turn, you see he still hasn’t moved from his spot, and you sigh. “Come on, Hanzo. It’s just for one night.” Hopefully. “There’s nothing for-for you to sleep on. Just—just get up here. I’ll just stay o-over on this side.”

You could feel his hesitation, so you turn again to face the wall laying down onto the pillow to give him so privacy (or the illusion of detachment)—the pillow, too, is freezing and your wet hair pressing against your skin made it even worse. You really couldn’t wait to get back to base. Maybe trade stories with Mei when she undoubtedly returns with sunburn.

“If you insist,” he says quietly, reluctantly. You take that as your cue to press yourself even further from ‘his’ side of the bed.

Slowly, you could hear Hanzo get up and take a few tentative steps toward the bed. You could hear his ribbon pulling free, and you could almost see his hair coming free of its confines, spilling over his shoulders stiffly. The mattress dips underneath his weight as he crawls in carefully, laying as far away as the blankets would allow. You have to hold onto your end tightly to keep them from slipping off and getting stolen by your new bedmate. You both lay there, back to back. If you even turn just little bit, your skin would be pressed against his own–you could imagine it just sticking to each other. Your back tingles at the proximity, and you try hard not to focus on the fact that you could feel his presence right behind you.

The chattering in your teeth is slowly subsiding, the warmth of two bodies underneath the covers chases away the cold that haunts you both. The metronome of your dripping clothes is the only thing that fills the silence accompanied by the howl of the wind. You could feel Hanzo’s breathing more than you could hear it—the blanket dips and rises with each breath.

When you finally regain some semblance of consciousness, you notice that it’s hot—almost too hot and you’re sweating all over, but at the same time, it was chilly. Your eyes could barely open, aching and somewhat swollen. It must’ve been the wind and ice yesterday, you reasoned. The next thing that comes is that you’re painfully aware of more skin to skin contact than you remember going to bed with.

You couldn’t move without feeling the sensation of peeling skin. The threat of a painful extraction is almost as cringe-worthy as what you image to be Hanzo’s reaction to waking up in this sort of position. At least by some miracle, both your towels are intact, left in the place you both had them when you went to sleep.

But to make matters worse rather than better, Hanzo fills the space between your chin and collarbone with his face, curling into a ball and pressing himself against you as though you two would suddenly click into place. One arm is curled around your back, and the other is trapped between both your bodies, drawing you impossibly close. It vaguely reminded you of a child seeking their parent’s comfort or, if your mind dares go into that territory, two lov—no, no. Don’t go there, thoughts.

However, your thoughts are quickly drowned out when Hanzo noses his way into your neck, his lips skim against your clavicle and you jump at the sensation. ‘It’s okay,’ you told yourself as your heart begins to race like mad. He is just sleeping. He doesn’t know what he’s doing; it’s an accident. As if to prove you wrong, he continues to press his lips there and mumble unintelligibly. You tried to squirm away, the ticklish sensation combined with the close proximity was too much to bear, biting down the need to start laughing or shoving him out of the bed.

Apparently displeased with your struggles, he tucks his chin in, and almost sprawls himself against you, pressing you down onto you back and lying on top. The sudden motion makes you hiss—you were right, the feeling of peeling skin really hurts. But you have little time to dwell on it when his weight is almost suffocating you. Your new position is arguably less ticklish, but no less awkward. You shift, trying to get comfortable, but his weight pins you down firmly.

“Oh, com’on, Hanzo,” you whisper. You’re surprised he still hasn’t woken up—what sort of ninja is he anyway?

You try another half-hearted struggle, but huff and give up when it doesn’t seem like you’re making any headway, too tired to bother. Might as well let the archer do his thing—there isn’t much you could do anyway outside of bucking his straight off the bed and giving him a very rude awakening (that may or may not result in him attacking you in a blind panic).

Vaguely, you notice it’s still dark, and the screams of the wind from hours before have now died down to become whispers. It seems like the storm has calmed down, sufficient for a signal to get through and for help to come. It’s too bad you’re stuck under a couple hundred pounds of sleeping muscle. You smile to yourself and look down blearily at the archer.

He seems so comfortable, hair splayed out messily around him, legs intertwined with yours so intimately that you’re sure that he’s going to die of embarrassment when he wakes up. You sigh, closing your eyes and willing yourself to go back to sleep. You could deal with this later. The beating of his heart against your chest, his steady breaths, and warmth makes that easy.

The next time you awaken, there’s the distinct sound of chatter, a lack of a body, and a hand to your forehead. It’s large and comfortable, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat that seems to have clogged your throat and nose.

“’nzo?”

You whine when the hand jerks back, exposing your forehead to the chilly morning (was it still morning?) air.

“—ne moment. You’re awake?”

You make a noise of affirmation in the back of your throat—it hurts and it feels like something’s stabbing the insides, you realize. You bury yourself deeper beneath the covers, feeling like you haven’t slept a wink. Your body aches, and your head hurts—it must be the result of having your hair still wet while you slept in such cold weather. That sounds logical.

A few more words were exchanged between Hanzo and whomever he was talking to before, it sounds somewhat heated and pressing, but you weren’t paying attention, sleep beckoning you like a siren’s call that you had no strength to resist.

“Stay awake. You’ve caught a cold,” Hanzo says softly but sternly when he notices you trying to doze off again.

Through your haze, you don’t really understand the severity of his words, but you nod anyway, if only to have him leave you alone so you may return to sleep sooner. You could hear him rummaging through bags, cursing firmly and searching more frantically when he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for.

You’re tempted to laugh at him, but right now, you’re just too tired to do much but try to follow his order. You blink at his back—it’s clothed. Maybe his shirt has dried? What about your own clothes then?

“Apologizes, but there is no medicine,” he says suddenly. Your leg jerks, your whole body jolting to temporary wakefulness. It looks like despite your best attempt, you ended up dozing off after all. “I have contacted the others, they will be here in several hours.”

“S’okay,” you mumble. You just wanted to sleep some more, and it’s too cold to do some comfortably. “Hey, Hanzo. Do me a favor?”

“Yes?”

“Get in here, it’s cold.”

For the record, I rather like the ginseng chicken soups my mother makes. It just doesn’t taste very good in the first few sips.

#anon #ask #this is 4k+ of words whyyy #I feel that Hanzo is a really light sleeper but when he's really comfortable with someone he sleeps like a LOG #I don't know why this is so long #I'm so sorry #hanzo x reader #reader #Goddamnit why did I even make this title a pun #please understand that I literally cannot keep track of myself when writing really long fics #I am now done with requests and now I need to sleep again #sorry it took so long #my writing

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moosoobi · 3 years

Text

Revelation

In the night: Chapter 1

T.Jeffy- Hamilton: the musical

Thomas’s interest in Y/N pulls him into a position he was previously blind to. They say every girl’s another mystery, but definitely not like this. Buckle your seatbelt Tommy, you’re in for a ride

Finally finished the first part of ITN (which is ironic since the moment I wrote this message I still haven’t finished it). I really hope I’m able to bring this story to life the way I want to and I hope y’all enjoy 😔💕. Here’s some stuff to expect:

Told from Thomas’s POV

Modern Au

College talk even though I’m literally in my second year of high school (so please bear with me)

Ruh roh moments

Sorta weird POV/storytelling (I’m new to writing fics and stuff so this is definitely a learning opportunity) Also excuse my English errors: Though this is my only language, my school system seemed to fail in teaching me how to write

Word count: 6.7k (including separators)

2 DISCLAIMERS:

TW: itty bitty angst, themes of injury/blood, etc.

I’m not the best story writer, so after reading this chapter you may have many questions. Please keep in mind that this is one chapter out of (about) 10. Things that you may not understand in this chapter will most likely be explained in future chapters.

-Now Playing: In The Night by The Weeknd-

My God, she’s perfect

The way the sunlight reflects off of her glass skin. The sincerity in every word, every letter that she writes with her only pencil. To be that flawless, it’s a mystery to me. She takes a glance at me. Did she feel me staring? I duck down my head in embarrassment.

“Jefferson, you oughta put that scholarship to good use”

Professor Washington boomed to the entire class. I hear a fragment of her giggle. Her laugh is soft and naïve. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her happiness.

Washington is right, though. It's my first semester after I came back from my student exchange program over in France and I can already feel my sanity slipping. France was a beauty to visit, so many customs and cultures I wish I could be flourished in right now.

But there was one thing great about going to school in New York: I get to sit in a classroom with Y/N L/N.

I’ve never talked to her formally, at least not yet. She’s always sitting alone, never answers any questions, but Professor Washington makes the class acknowledge her perfect test scores and fascinating interpretations

As the bell rings I watch her stand swiftly. Is she in a rush? I can't help but watch as her hair is flung over her shoulder. She stuffs her notebooks and singular pencil into her burgundy-magenta backpack. Hey, at least she has good taste in color.

I don’t think you understand

She sits alone everyday during lunch, yet she never looks bothered. Her energy is so compelling to me. A feeling about her that I cannot comprehend, something that feels greater than my existence. I just got to know.

“Thomas, you gotta work on staring at people less noticeable” James catches my attention by pointing his fork a little too close to my face.

I was staring? Again?

I shake my head to snap back to reality

“The great Thomas Jefferson is interested in someone for longer than 30 seconds. I gonna be honest with you Thom, that’s impressing”

I hear James laugh as he violently stabs a few pieces of pasta onto his fork.

James has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We went to the same middle and high school down in Virginia, and just coincidentally ended up going to the same college in New York.

We’re always there for each other. I remember cheering for him at a high school assembly after he won a story writing challenge, he’s such a nerd. Then again, he had to drive me home a couple of times after I failed multiple driving tests.

Back in high school, James was the Chess Club Champion, a title he always shoved down my throat. It’s no secret why, though. He’s really good at thinking things through, While I on the other hand tend to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“Shut it James” I sarcastically retort, taking a sip of the expensive chocolate milk which my scholarship supposedly pays for

Hey, can I sit here?

I talked to her during class. Her voice is angelic: Now, I’m not one to be religious and all, but that voice could get me on my knees praying for forgiveness. My ego couldn’t get me anywhere at all, as if she already knew my tactics, she knew my flirts, and how? I guess it just adds to her mystery.

“C'mon! that one works every time!” I whine

“Don't be so full of yourself Jefferson, I’ve heard them all before” A smile danced across her face

She did, however, laugh at some of my remarks. It's good to know that she has a sense of humor. My jokes of Professor Washington’s shiny, bald head. The jokes of Professor Washington’s assistant, John Adams, who’s suspiciously absent considering he signed up for this job.

Heck, I would even make fun of myself if it meant I got to hear that graceful laugh one more time- actually, that might be a little too far.

Many days of giggling in class came after that day. I can see her starting to open up to my friends and I, like she’s spreading her wings and showing us the greatness that lies behind the social wall that she put up years ago. Even when we got in trouble for a little too much giggling in the back of the class, I sacrificed my own pride so she didn’t have to. Yes, I, Thee Thomas Jefferson, did that.

---

Even though I could see the social wall she put up, I knew one day Y/n would fall for my charming pick up lines, or maybe I just happened to have a lucky day:

“Y/N I need some a some help with my math homework”

Y/N glances over to me in concern. I fake a scared expression.

“Quick!” I swiftly grab her shoulder and shake her “What’s your phone number?”

She playfully smacks my arm

---

Obtaining her number felt like a rite of passage, like I’m important to her, like she wants me in her life. I couldn’t stop smiling that day, and of course James just had to make a comment on it.

“Thomas, if you keep smiling like that I’m going to start thinking that your sick or something”

James said as he shut my laptop, tired of waiting for me to pack my things.

“Now that's REAL ironic coming from you, James”

I raised an eyebrow as my laugh begins to come up my throat. I take my closed laptop and shove it somewhere into my backpack.

“Okay, leaving for a month in sophomore year just because of a little fever doesn’t make ‘being sick’ as part of my trade mark”

James playfully smacked the back of my head. Thankfully, my curls serve as protection, not just to make me sinfully handsome. James and I walk out of the freezing lecture hall and were hit with the crisp-coldness of New York.

To the right of me I catch a glimpse of that eye catching burgundy-magenta backpack as it’s thrown into the trunk of a shiny, expensive car. My feet keep its motion as my head turns to see Y/N standing at the door of the car.

“Yo, is that Y/N?” I hear James whisper behind me “and who’s that?”

My attention is suddenly drawn to the tall man walking around the car to open her door. His curly hair is pulled into a small bun and the smile he had on his face broke apart the stubble on his jaw. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m just as clueless as you are”

Keeping my glance on Y/N and the man, I watch as the man opens the door for her. My stomach turns as I watch Y/N smile back at him as she sits in the car.

For a split second, I swear I saw her shoot a soft glance at me. My feet almost stop in their tracks before I feel James’ hand yank me onto another pathway.

“I’m all for you being head over heels, but we’re gonna be late to our study session with Angie”

Reality starts to set back into my head.

“Right, lets dip.”

---

“So little Tommy is Infatuated with this woman?”

Angie’s eyes are piercing, and her luscious hair frames her face in a saintly manner. She slips off her baby pink coat to ease into her library seat. Her eyebrow raises as she takes a sip of her steaming coffee

Of course James wouldn’t shut his mouth, especially around the notorious Angelica Schuyler.

Angie’s pretty popular here, I find myself wondering why she has so many connections, yet it’s not just any reason(s) why she seems to be in the spotlight.

1: She’s the oldest Schuyler. Her last name definitely got her places, not like I’m one to talk. Everyone seems to know her, not just at school, but all around New York City, and with her 5,000 Instagram followers, her first name’s starting to catch up with her last name in popularity

2: Angie’s Daddy has money money. And that’s no secret when she decides to walk around campus with her designer handbags and shoes. I tend to think she always gets what she wants, but I know deep down, she’s never gonna be satisfied. Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth

And finally,

3: Miss Schuyler here is Bold. She’s never afraid to put both me and James in our place. It’s almost as if she can’t be touched by anyone’s thoughts of her, then again the gossip in NYC is terribly insidious. With such grace and respect, Angelica is not afraid to throw your opinion into the ground.

“Yeah I swear, Jefferson would’ve gotten run over if I didn’t pull him onto the pathway” James attempted to tone down his laugh so the librarian wouldn’t stab him with those old, sharp eyes

“She-...”

For the first time, I didn’t know how to recoil

“..Just caught me off guard.”. In an attempt to change the topic, I flipped through the pages of his textbook.

Angelica and James shared an astonished glance at Thomas before looking at each other. I could hear James shrug and flipping open his textbook. I lift my head as I hear Angelica dig through her bag

“Alright let’s get started” Angie claps her hands together with determination

—-

It’s been 2 hours of studying in the ghostly library. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the talk forever.

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you invite her to our next study session?”

Angelica smirked as she rudely shut my laptop. I desperately imagine the day where both James and Angelica leave me alone. I angrily glare up at her, but she has a good idea

“Actually, that’s not to bad of an idea” I ponder for a moment before retrieving my phone from my pocket

Thomas: Hey Y/N, u free this week?

Hmm. Is this okay? Nah it’s too straight forward. I sigh as I deleted and retyped the message

Thomas: Greetings Ms. L/N, this is Mr. Jefferson from class. Would you delight me by partaking in a study session?

What the heck Jefferson? I began to get frustrated from this nonsense. It’s just a text, why am I getting so anal over it?

Thomas: Hey Y/N, ds@insdas/19z7dnesdc-

Angelica, who was watching me the entire time, snatched the phone from my hands. I attempted to protest, yet Angelica Schuyler knows how to hold her ground.

“Angie wh-”

“I’ll do you a favor, Jefferson.” She said sternly. There was no way I was getting that phone back, heck, I would be lucky if I got it back in one piece

“Aaaaand sent!” I heard her squeal

Angelica suddenly tossed the phone to me and I fumbled it between my hands before I held it stably. I check to see the text that Angelica sent from my phone

Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?

Oh. It was that easy.

“Thanks Angie”

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Part of me was excited to have an excuse to text Y/N, yet I do wonder how awkward it would be if she rejected the offer. I mean, she already has the perfect grades, why would she need the extra help?

I start to rethink my decision.

—-

It wasn’t until 11 pm at night until I got a reply from Y/N. Beforehand, I arrived at my apartment around 8 pm. As soon as my door shut, the room was filled with growls indicating my current problem: hunger. That could only be solved with one solution: microwavable mac and cheese.

My phone dinged while I was laying motionless on my bed. My apartment was right next to the street, and all I could hear was the busy streets of New York City.

My eyes opened as I turned to my charging phone.

Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way

I was filled with joy, so much that I couldn’t wait another second to reply.

Thomas: Alright, we meet at the library after our class. Can you make it?

Seeing the three dots jump melodically made my stomach feel as if two fairies were dancing throughout my body. Any second now, any second. ding!

Y/N: sounds good!

I guess it’s settled, I get to hang out with the puzzling Y/N L/N, and maybe I’ll get to learn a bit more about her. But just because it’s a study session doesn’t mean I can’t show her what a southern gentleman looks like, and for the first time, I’m so excited to study

---

James, Y/N, and I walk out of professor Washington’s class, laughing our asses off over some stupid joke. Everyone around us appears to be annoyed, especially with having to sit through almost two hours of my friends and I laughing in the back of the class, but it’s not like I care.

Once we’re hit by the bitter cold of New York, my eyes are immediately drawn to that expensive car. So familiar and so faint in head, the memory of Y/N smiling as she hopped into his car replays in my brain.

“I’ll be back guys”

Y/N excuses herself from the group before lightly jogging to the car. Her hair was graceful in the wind, and her burgundy-magenta backpack didn’t seem to weigh her down at all. For a split second, my brain acknowledges that mysterious man in the driver’s seat. There was a moment of awkward eye contact with him, his cold eyes pierced through me before my attention was drawn back to Y/N. She fixes her hair and jacket.

That was cute.

What?

James and I watch Y/N before turning to each other. I suggest to James that we wait for her, show a little southern hospitality. Even though Y/N seems to be fond of this man, he gives off a mysterious vibe similar to Y/N’s, but I do not want to unravel that mystery at all.

Seeing him throw a smirk at Y/N causes discomfort in my stomach.

Y/N comes prancing back to us, an embarrassed smile on her face. Behind her, that shiny, expensive car begins to drive away.

“My bad, I forgot to tell my roommate that I would be out late”

“That’s your roommate?” James asks, attempting to hide his curiosity and shock

“and he takes you home after class?” I interrupt briefly

Y/N nervously laughs before nodding “something like that, he just..”

That pause was a little too long

“..doesn’t like me out of the house too late so he volunteers to drive me home all the time”

I shrug it off before jumping at the feeling of James’ warm hands pulling Y/N and I to the direction of the library. Y/N and I look at him with confusion

“What? Angie doesn’t like when we’re late, remember?” James says, practically dragging us to the Library

—-

“Nice to meet you”

Angelica and Y/N got along pretty well. I can tell Angie was happy to finally have a girl to hangout with rather than having to deal with me and James only. She’s already starting to resemble a sisterly figure to Y/N, then again, growing up with two sisters must’ve prepared Angie for this moment.

I don’t hear much about the other Schuylers, but I am familiar with them. Angelica is the oldest, as we know. Her first sister, Eliza Sch- I’m pretty sure she got married, is the nicest person you’ll meet. Whoever won her surely must be worthy, because we all know people like me wouldn’t get anywhere near Eliza thanks to her older sister. Her youngest sister, Margarita Peggy Schuyler, is just like Angelica.

Stubborn. As. Fuck.

I’m confident that Angelica has taught her that philosophy since she was born. Anyway, Peggy is currently living her dreams in Southern California. Not sure what she does, but I’m sure she’s financially stable, she is a Schuyler after all.

All of us struggle to not annoy the librarian, let alone the entire library. I watch as Y/N opens up, just a little more, to Angelica, James, and I.

Hours pass as we clown around in the library. From actually completing class work to a small drawing competition between James and I, I was certainly having a good time, and so was everyone else.

It was pleasing to see Y/N more laid back rather than how she acts in class. In front of Professor Washington she’s so ‘put together’ and organized, but surrounded by her friends she’s such an amazing person, her range in professionalism and humor is astounding.

I can’t seem to ignore the fact that Angelica notices the way I look at Y/N. It’s definitely not in my strong suit to be ‘low key’, I’m known for dramatic entrances and stealing the spotlight. She smiles when I make eye contact with her, and I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of annoying me, but I can’t help the way I look at Y/N. She really is an angel sent down from heaven, disguised as a college student, and I’m just lucky enough to be her friend.

I’m blind to her flaws. When I see her, I feel like a tourist glancing at the Mona Lisa, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders, and the way the library lighting reflects off of her glowing skin.

What felt like a sledgehammer breaking a slab of fragile glass, I see Y/N’s phone light up. Even across the table I can read the word “Lafayette” off of her phone. I can’t lie, it surely sounds familiar.

When she finally noticed her phone flash on, I feel her ease turn into worry, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by James, Angie, and I. She starts to pack away her books

“My bad guys, I really gotta go”

Y/N said notably panicking. Her phone flashes once again, yet the only thing that seems to catch my eyes is the bold “7:30” spread across the top of her phone.

“Are you okay by yourself?” I asked, trying my best not to pry into her business

“Yeah, my roommates here to pick me up, I don’t want to make him wait” she tried to play it off, but I’m learning to see right through her

“Alright, see you next time Y/N” I shrug it off

She sends my friends and I a quick smile before replying

“for sure”

Angelica and James got back to work without saying a word, and I could tell they were waiting until she was gone to start teasing me. I eased back into my chair before flipping the pages of my notebook

I watched as she shoved open the library door and disappeared into the darkness. She’s such a mystery, when I feel like she’s opening up, she just shuts the door and we’re back at square one. Though I do claim to love a good challenge, Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

—-

And that’s when it started. It wasn’t just one time where 7:30 was Y/N magic number, oh no, it was oddly consistent. I’m convinced that Y/N is some variation of Cinderella; her polite attitude and the beautiful little things she does without acknowledging it all vanish when the clock strikes 8:00, but that’s just one of many theories made by James.

Another study session with James and Angelica, and Y/N’s flashing screen still compelled Y/N to leave the library without a trace. On some occasions we don’t even notice her escape, we just turn to see her seat empty and feel the faint wind from outside as the library door slowly closes.

One day Angie bought us all tickets to see the preview to the newest, scariest movie I’ve ever watched. I was accompanied by Y/N, James, and Angie, yet their presences made it worse. Halfway through the bucket of popcorn and the movie, Y/N suddenly stood up and left after saying those 5 words. Before she left, I felt the warmth of her hands leave the place on my arm.

I never knew how addicting her warmth would be until it was already gone.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go” The weak smile on her face instantly resonated feelings of sympathy and understanding.

From then on, Y/N and I grew closer as friends. We’d fool around at a local park before heading to campus, obviously sparking a few observations and remarks from James. I’d invite her to fancy dinners, or maybe even a small festival down the road from my apartment, yet her response would always be proven false at the moment she’d leave me and my thoughts at 7:30.

But that hasn’t stopped me from attempting to hang out with her. Even on the days I wouldn’t have class with her we’d go out and get ice cream, study at the park, I guess you can say we’ve gone on a few ‘dates’ since our initial study session.

Whenever we’re apart, I can feel every second expanding to its maximum capacity of time. I wouldn’t see her for a day and it will already feel like years since I’ve seen her. The days I do see her, time seems to maneuver a little too fast. When I recall hanging out with Y/N, all I can imagine is the feeling of floating above the clouds every time she and I made physical contact. Like a rock being dropped into still water, ever touch ripples throughout my body, sending shivers down my spine.

Truly incredible.

—-

She doesn’t like to talk about her personal life, and I find that quite odd. I’m usually one to continue rambling every detail of every trait of mine, yet I find myself yearning to learn more about her.

We text every now and then when we’re outside of class, a little more to be considered ‘just friends’. There’s always a story which unravels just a little more of Y/N’s past, and she’s left me on my own to connect the dots. I must say, she’s definitely an interesting gal, but I know there’s more to discover.

She’s a native New Yorker, born and raised, surviving by splitting an intense rent with her mysterious room mate. Y/N doesn’t talk much of her family, other than faint memories of her mother single handedly raising her and her little brother, who I’m fairly unaware of.

Going into college undecided, Y/N describes her want to learn more about herself before she’s able to make any life determining choices. I’ve noticed that her schedule seems like a labyrinth avoiding life problems and obstacles, so perhaps being placed in the same class coincidentally was just fate playing its part.

Y/N loves to explain her dream for workless weekends, moments in the week where she just gets to sit back, close her eyes, and breathe a little. With finals starting to appear from thin air, I can’t blame her for a dream so far from reality.

Even with the knowledge I hold of her, something never seems to change: her disappearances at 7:30.

It’s always that damn 7:30.

7:30--the cliffhanger your favorite show leaves you desiring for more

the end of a fun night of laughter and glee, wishing it lasted just a little longer

the off-set energy in a room when those around you know something you don’t.

As days, weeks, and months pass since my first text proposal to hang out at the library, Y/N and I become a little closer than just friends. It’s been obvious, especially to James and Angie, that Y/N is more than capable of holding my attention.

Though James is worried that Y/N will just become ‘another girl’ to me, concerning my tomcat nature in the past, he can see the potential I see in her. I find myself wishing I did spend more time with her, maybe I just need to make a better effort.

I’ll prove James and Angie wrong.

Filled with determination and confidence, in the midst of my silent room, I whip out my phone and direct my attention towards forming a text message for Y/N

Thomas: let’s get coffee sometime?

Jefferson charm, don’t fail me now.

---

Before I knew it, Y/N and I were feasting on exotic cheeses and aged wine in my New York apartment. I hit play on a random romcom which helps to fill the emptiness in my apartment and ironically the thin space between Y/N and I.

I have no idea how to make my move. Though I’m not aware of my competition, I imagine if Y/N could attract someone of My caliber, I should be well aware of the things she’s capable of. Originally I planned to court her-- I know, I know, I’m a man of tradition--yet after James caught on to my recognizable frustration, He suggested I go for it.

This is surprising on multiple occasions, especially since James possesses the ‘brains’ between the both of us. Being the chess club champion, ‘talk’ won’t aid you when you're struggling in a chess match. Just like how he meticulously plays chess, he examines my situation and provides his Virginian insight, or so he prefers to call it, and they always proceed the way his scheme describes.

I’ve adhered his advice to my life ever since we were kids, and when I didn’t, he’d simply reply with:

“I told you so”

His smug smirk accompanied with a finger pointing to his temple would soon transform from clever to annoying.

I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Well, of course it’s not Y/N texting so must I really answer it? I pull out my phone despite my doubts and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

James: 👍

Speak of the Devil.

But enough about James. I understand that both Y/N and I are mature college students, yet I still fear the disruption in our friendship I can provoke just by making my move. I’ve gotten this far; If she wasn’t interesting I’m sure she would’ve rejected me sooner.

She’s different, she’s unique, something about her that I just can’t place, but also something missing. Anyway, this is probably my best chance at shooting my shot at Y/N, and it’s too late now to back down.

As my lips part in an attempt to speak and make a move, Y/N’s motionless phone (currently laying undisturbed on my coffee table) suddenly brightens with the most obnoxious ringtone I’ve ever heard. The words “It’s 7:30!” flash on her screen, almost as if it was warning her rather than reminding her.

“Y/N—” my eyes follow her body as she swiftly stands up

“I gotta g—” I watch as she attempts to grab her purse, yet her body is limited when I firmly grab her arm. She looks back to me with tiredness in her eyes.

Part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Cinderella here wouldn’t have a curfew. That I somehow would be the exemption to this consistent confusion . But you can only daydream so far into the day until you’re pulled back into your reality

Her entire demeanor seems like it was reconstructed after her alarm went off. Moments ago she was just enjoying tasty cheese and cheesy movies, and the worst part is, I have no idea why.

“Let me speak, darlin’”

I stand up to avoid the way her eyes look down on me. I can’t stand that pitiful glare; she looks at me as if I’m a child incapable of understanding her situation, but she’s too stubborn to let me know. I’d be wise to use this time to make a move on different circumstances.

“Now, you’re always leaving at seven thirty..”

Her sigh is almost enough to interrupt me

“..why’s that? Talk to me.”

I maintain my eye contact before it’s abruptly broken. She looks everywhere but my eyes, and I wonder where in my apartment she would find an excuse, yet still manages to dodge the question.

“..you wouldn’t understand..” she scoffs almost intentionally, honestly scratching a part of my ego. I hate to admit she’s right, I really don’t understand what’s going on.

I cock my head to the side. Where’s this coming from?

“Darlin’, I’m sure I’m a very understanding person—”

“—I need to leave”

I could tell by the look of her face that she wasn’t trying to argue, but it’s inevitable.

“Why can’t you just tell me?..” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat, but I’m not giving up yet. “We’ve been friends for a while and you’re always leavin’ at seven—”

“I know! I know..” she removes my hand from her arm, clearly refusing to look up at me.

“Let’s just say..I got a job..?”

Oh. That’s what this is all about? A job? She couldn’t spare at least an explanation for a part time gig?

“See? That wasn’t so hard”

“It’s..really embarrassing..” The glance she takes around the room makes me wonder if she’s really telling the truth. it’s not really my place to speculate, there’s no going back from this.

“It’s alright, it’s just a job after all” I claim, trying to get this conversation back on track

“This is exactly what I meant but ‘you wouldn’t understand’”

Huh?

“You don’t know what it feels like to have your life rely on minimum wage—” she sounds like she’s holding something back.

“Y/N wher—”

“A-and here you are makin’ me late for work” her eyes appear on the verge of crying.

“darlin’ look..”

“God, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life!”

Silence.

Both of us refuse to speak. Y/N phone, still on the table, chimes again. “7:35” it said on its bright screen.

“Is that really how you feel?..” I take a step back to give her space. She still refuses to look at me.

There’s no way she’d cause all this chaos just because of a job. And even if she believes I’ve piggy backed off of my name for my entire life, why would it matter to her?

“I..I should leave” before I could process what just happened, she swiftly tosses her phone into her bag and heads for the door.

“Y’know, I had a nice time..” was all I heard before the harsh shutting of my apartment door.

And that was the end of it.

My first thought after the door shut wasn’t to whip out my phone and attempt to text her, it certainly wasn’t to call James and inform him of his miscalculation, but instead to attend to the matter at hand. This cheese and wine won’t clean itself.

And the night continued normally, as if nothing had ever taken place. I couldn’t help but microwave another cup of Mac and cheese to cope with what Y/N said. Nothin’ like a good meal to divert your attention away from your problems. But even a good cup of cheese and pasta can’t stop me from thinking’:

Is that all I am to her?

A southern snob incapable of functioning without their father’s last name?

After an introspective shower, and a few episodes of a random Netflix show, I’m finally alone with my thoughts and feelings. I lie in darkness, tussling and turning at every occasion, unable to extract her words from my mind.

If there’s someone whose opinion I care about the most, it’s Y/N L/N. I consider texting her at this very moment, yet I’m sure that I’m the last person she wants to talk to. The weight of my actions falls heavily onto my shoulders every minute, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Give her space, Jefferson, and maybe you’ll be able to fix this tragedy.

---

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The knocks on my apartment door were enough to jerk my body back to consciousness. Sadly pulled from the warmth of my dreams, I’m hit with the cold, noisy reality of an average night here in New York.

Can my day get any worse?

Coming straight from the depths of slumber, I take a few minutes to process reality. Maybe the knocks were in my head. Did I dream about someone knocking on my door? Perhaps it’s

The sun’s still not up yet, why am I?

Groggily sitting up, I decide to check the time, yet it takes me multiple attempts to grab my phone in the dark before I catch a sight of the time.

2 am?!

Who is so out of their minds so show up to my apartment at this time? Who do I know that would show up at this time?

James is too sensible for that,

Angie would never waste her time on me, for whatever reason,

And Y/N—

well.

I don’t know our circumstances right now.

I debate whether or not I should answer the door. Perhaps it’s just rock that happened to hit the door of my apartment, and even if it is a person, I’m not aware of anyone so mad to show up in the middle of the night. it’s not worth my time.

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

So much for ‘Not worth my time’. A groan is all my body can respond with while I gradually stand from the comfort of my bed. I grab the nearest shirt, which was draped over my desk chair, and scramble to put it on. Passing my cramped kitchen, my hands subconsciously flip on the nearest light switches, while my eyes struggle to comprehend the sudden light.

Before I reach the door, I couldn’t help but attempt to fix my hair. Just because someone happens to show up outside unannounced doesn’t mean I can’t present my best rendition of a southern gentleman.

And finally, through my fatigue and irritation, I’m finally urged to grab the doorknob and twist it open in one motion.

“Uh, it’s two a.m. so I hope--”

I nervously scratch the back of my head, attempting to add spice to this awkward encounter. It wasn’t until my eyes caught sight of the blood dripping down her glass skin and the meeting of our eyes did I have any words

“Y/N?!?”

Her cold, pale, and hurt body would’ve hit the concrete floor if I had answered the door any later.

---

And there she layed half colorless on my bed. Her smile was full of embarrassment and gratitude as I sat beside her, tending to the evident cuts and Injured areas of her body. “I hope I’m being a great house guest” she joked, causing her to laugh, yet hurting herself in the process.

“Hey, Hey, Take it easy..” Y/N’s presence usually fills me with carefreeness, or perhaps stability, but for the first time I can’t help but react seriously. Her demeanor changed as she saw my retaliation to her joke.

“I guess…” she looked down to her fragile body, a sigh released, seeming to be an attempt to calm down. “...I owe you an explanation for earlier. And especially for showing up at your place at 2 in the damn morning. ”

Thomas’ hands, full of wipes and hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton balls, froze in their tracks before he looked up at her, eager to listen and visibly confused. Y/N visibly winced as the cotton balls stuck to her cuts for longer than they should’ve, yet with Thomas’ reflexes at their all-time-max, he pulled them away with a worried expression.

“Explanation? You said you got a job, and I’m sorry for not respecting it..” I continued to clean her up, consensually of course, how could I call myself a gentleman if I were to act upon improper motives?

“Again..” I utter quietly “..I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m ashamed you feel that way”

I attach an ivory-colored band aid to her glass skin, careful not to damage it any further. I look up to her watching, pitiful eyes. “You were saying?” I reciprocate the attention to her, awaiting a so-called answer to come out of her mouth

“I didn’t know where else to run to..” she attempted to sit up, lifting her weight off of my satin-covered sheets, yet quickly stopped when being hit with a wave of pain from her right shoulder

Though my first thought would’ve been ‘Damn it, my darn sheets are ruined’, it was quickly drawn to Y/N and her current problem

“Y’know, I think an apology and explanation can wait, Y/N. you need a little sleep, it’s already three in the mornin’ for god’s sake” a small laugh erupts from her

I sent her an assuring smile, trying to remind her that everything is always going to be okay in a Jefferson household. And surprisingly I received a smile in return, a smile of trust and security that I’ve never felt so glad to see. Of course, I wish I could’ve seen that smile under different circumstances, but I’ll work with what I got.

I stood from my beautiful satin sheets and reached for a hoodie on my swivel chair. (everything but your closet is a closet, change my mind) I braced for a cold night on my apartment couch while Y/N enjoys the warmth of my bed, but Y/N had other plans.

“Wait- Thomas.” She said firmly

I turned tiredly to her direction, my arm already extended for the door, yet frozen in place as I awaited a response

“Can you just..” she scoot herself over, as much as possible with her frail body “..hold me?” She watches me anxiously

“I mean— you don’t have to b—” I didn’t hesitate at all to gently slide under the sheets of the bed. As soon as I turn to her direction, I can’t help but feel scared to touch her in fear of hurting her; my hands don’t know where to reside. “Where do I..” I’m truly perplexed

She giggled at my confusion and shyly grabbed my hand “I’m not so fragile you know”

She brought my hand up to the side of her head, and all I could process was the texture of the bandages under my fingertips. I don’t know what's going on, but I couldn’t just leave her out there.

“..Right..” I wait for her eyes to close before I can even think about closing mine, and soon the texture of the bandages seem to melt onto my fingertips as I’m finally able to return to my slumber.

“See you in the mornin’..”

---

I didn’t wake up until I felt the sun rays kissing my back through my so-called ‘blackout curtains’. Such a scam. The room seemed a little too quiet; I gently turned onto my other side just to find an empty bed. I consider the possibility of last night’s encounter with Y/N was all just some messed up dream, but when I saw the faint stains of blood on my sheets, I knew I was far from dreaming.

My body doesn’t want to move, and I’m stuck sitting up in my bed for another ten minutes. What the heck is going on? One minute she yells at me, then next thing I know she’s outside my apartment at 2 am.

And that explanation.

I guess I was such a fool to think she wouldn’t continue to run away from this matter. My thoughts are interrupted by my buzzing phone. I know for sure that it’s not Y/N hittin up my phone right about now.

James: Let’s try that new coffee place a few blocks from your apartment?

He really read my mind, or maybe it’s a response made from calculating my failure yesterday. But a distraction sounds tremendous.

Thomas: bet.

I throw on a cleaner, more professional jacket, if such a thing exists, and swiftly get my feet out the door. Everything seems the same, as if nothing had taken place last night. The world still spins and I’m expected to spin with it.

I don’t think I’m anywhere near capable of unraveling your mystery.

Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

#thomas jefferson fanfic #thomas jefferson #Daveed Diggs #daveed x reader #thomas x reader #alexander hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamiltonau #Angelica Schuyler #james madison #marquis de Lafayette #lafayette x reader #lafayette #george washington #washington #John Laurens #hercules mulligan #thomas jefferson x reader

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xiaoxiongmaos · 3 years

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those iconic moments are like ICONIC i think i've seen all of them except for the eunsang one. my favourite iconic moments and the first ones that popped into my head are soobin's "bye guys hi ladies muah" and sunghoon's tiktok video that went viral recently. those moments live in my head rent free. i literally cannot get them out of my head.

and, yeah the cgi in monster was very startling and i have a physical reaction every time i see it.

i'm so sorry that she's left and her favourite group disbanded 😕 and i don't take any offence either!! i know i'm not her because this is my first time writing publicly on tumblr, and none of my favourite groups have disbanded so far.

ooo!!! idk if it's because i don't understand giffiing or because the giffing i see on my dash is so high quality, but if there were a tumblr hierarchy i think giffers should be on top, besides graphics creators and artists. they're constantly keeping up with new content, and giffing all of it in HD (sometimes 4k) with good colouring (even when the original doesn't have good colouring) and i'm just like WOW. i know i could never do it and i respect the grind fr. so, i respect you for doing that, making graphics, AND making fanart at the same time. speaking of fanart, i saw your recent felix one and i am BLOWN away. like, how?? knowing that your canvas was once empty and you managed to produce THAT out of it is literally like... my mind is blown.

ooo yes, i'm picky with who i read too. when it comes to a little read here & there, the quality of the writing doesn't matter much to me. but when it comes to reading longer fics, there are only a few writers who can captivate my attention for THAT long, you know? please don't apologise for studying!! i've been busy myself these days (which is why this is SUPER late), so i completely understand.

and tysm!! your reassurances have definitely broken me out of my shell, and i'm more than ready for the reveal soon! thank you SO much for the reccs! i've noted them down so i will definitely listen to them sometime soon.

today's mission was to give me a playlist, but you've already given me a playlist of recs so now all we have to do is wait for monday! sorry for all of this, but i'm super excited for the reveal! - 🗝 anon

Hello anon, hope you’re doing good!

Ah, how could I forget that… it’s really such a cute and funny vid to watch! Sunghoon’s tiktok? I don’t recall seeing any of his recent ones so I’ll check it out!

Ooh yeah the continuous wait for frames to finish rendering; that’s a pain. But it’s overshadowed by the nice tags people leave after reblogging or some sweet asks; really makes it worth it. Thank you so much, that’s legitimately so sweet of you to say <3 it took a while because it was the first time in a while but seeing the positive response makes my heart happy!

I prefer series over drabbles so I usually have to look for writers whose diction I vibe with and I have found three (used to be a bit more but unfortunately, quite a few left) that are such! I also am kinda selective about genres I read, mostly it’s angst/thrillers/crime but a little slice of life or fantasy here and there doesn’t hurt. I generally don’t like really fluffy or romantic ones— I’m the kind of person who wants the plot to be interesting and read more of what’s happening outside of someone’s love life; same with movies and dramas! Oh and I avoid nsfw like the plague. If you would like to check them out: @/maatryoshkaa (her serial killer au is amazing, I kid you not! Really made me fall in love with her kdrama-esque writing and she’s got a cute highschool series going on for the soft crowd), @/yeonjuncore (one of the most eloquent writers ever; pick up any piece from her and you won’t stop until you’ve finished it —and sometimes are left yearning for more— she has nsfw stuff but was kind enough to help me blacklist tags for them! I’d recommend checking out the stuff she wrote for a halloween special last year, it has some real gold hidden in the nooks and crannies) & @/angelictaehyun (I only recent started reading her stuff and was done with almost all of her Taehyun fics in the span of a day. Her wording has a prim and proper feel to it, but it’s also not awkwardly professional? She writes shorter stuff, at least compared to what I’m used to, but most of her works are cute and really keep your emotions engaged).

No problem! Is it okay if I still make a playlist for you? I’m more of a feel-good, summery and sweet songs kinda person generally —but I like a ton of different genres too haha— so that’s kinda the theme of the playlist (I sprinkled in a couple of non-kpop/kdrama tracks too)!

The feeling’s mutual; I’m really excited to meet you off anon too~ hope you have a lovely day and that you’re doing well!

#asks #anon #🗝 anon

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these-are-the-first-steps · 7 years

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Firstly, I’d like to say thank you, @srgnts, for giving me a very thoughtful reply and for giving my post a chance, I appreciate it. I hear what you’re saying here, and I understand where you’re coming from. If it’s alright, I’d like to add a little more info and a little more context, especially since the post in question is around a year old now and is missing both those things. It might help, it might not, but I’d like to make sure you have all the information at your disposal. This got long, so I’ve sectioned it off- I hope that’s ok. It might make it easier, I'm not sure.

NOTE TO MY FOLLOWERS: Please do not add your own reply to this. Please. You can reach me via chat if you want to talk about it.

Some Admissions: To begin, I admit that the tone of the post, standing alone like that, is far from the best it could have and perhaps should have been. It was also written late at night, which you might recall being mentioned right at the beginning, and I was a bit exhausted with little filter left after a frankly awful day at work. But it is one of a series of short posts that were made as I was combing through the “Before the Awakening” novel looking for information- there are many of them about Rey and Poe as well. I’ve got a pretty good collection of TFA-related books going for this very purpose- I like knowing as much as I can as I try to form theories and work on material.

Finn and Kylo are actually stellar mirror images of each other: This post was also made during a stretch of time where the ‘good guy’ characters were being a bit coddled in the fandom, and as I’m personally someone who believes everybody’s got some sort of skeleton in their closet (frankly it’s more interesting when they do), especially when the villains were being so blindly thrashed, I really latched on to the thought that I had finally found Finn’s- Rey’s previously being that she’s killed many times before and that the area around her home was rigged with fatal booby traps (source: Rey’s Survival Guide). But when I found Finn’s, my mind went into over-drive- why was this his main sin? Did he always do it? (according to ‘Before the Awakening’, he did not- and I also made a post about that the next day) So why did he feel compelled now? As some time has passed, I’ve begun to realize that Kylo and Finn are actually mirror opposites of each other both in path AND in characterization. Parents vs. no parents. Didn’t choose the order vs. chose the order, brainwashed (Finn) vs. Stockholm Syndrome (Ben), chose to leave vs. chose to stay, chose not to kill vs. chose to kill, chose to lie vs. chose not to lie, wants to go WITH Rey vs. wants Rey to go with THEM. Literally in every respect, mirror opposites. Thus why the emphasis on how the only real positive thing Kylo has going for him is that he’s openly honest with Rey- it becomes another opposing piece of the Kylo-Finn puzzle. But at the time I’d made that post, I hadn’t quite figured that out yet. What you see there is me skirting along the edges of this realization before I had it. I hope that makes sense. On the topic of Kylo’s interactions with Rey: I’d also like to share some information from the TFA novel as it has deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the film. Pablo Hidalgo, canon keeper for the new trilogy, has said that the books count as canon unless disproven by future films, so I’m going with that assumption. To begin, I will have to insist that two people battling on opposite sides of a war who are in no discernible relationship whatsoever cannot possibly be abuse. I really do have to insist on that. It was made clear in the TFA novel that Kylo had no intention of hurting Rey during the interrogation- he explicitly says, “Despite what you may believe, it gives me no pleasure. I will go as easily as possible- but I will take what I need.” (source: TFA novel, p. 199). His line about “You know I can take whatever I want” is, according to the film script, the second half of an unspoken conversation, essentially, that the audience never hears. To quote: “KYLO REN: ...You. A scavenger-- Rey reacts -- afraid -- how does he know? KYLO REN (CON’T): You know I can take whatever I want. (TFA oscars submission script, p. 79)”

He’s referencing her thoughts, which he’s casually reading, but the Audience isn’t aware of this. It’s actually a really brilliant storytelling ploy that I’ve come to love a lot. I use it in lots of places now. Second is that Kylo actually argued *against* the destruction of the Hosnian system. He argued against it so insistently that Snoke yelled at and threatened him and this is where Snoke accuses him of having compassion for Rey, and if Rey had essentially become his ‘weakness’, then he needed to bring the girl to him. (Source: TFA Novelization, p.207-208) Snoke attempted to blackmail Kylo for his compassion. This is why he refuses to be on Starkiller when the weapon is used- it’s his admittedly weak rebellion against what happens. Thirdly, I have to protest the new over-use of the word ‘Nazi’ on the basis that my grandmother survived 5 years under Nazi, REAL Nazi, occupation and I take a firm stance against her experiences being belittled by seeing that word applied to fiction. The First Order is reprehensible, but they do not, as of this moment, have goals of genocide, and worlds under their control such as Jakku are clearly left to be free societies because the FO only seems concerned with how big their territory is, not with running it. We have no knowledge of whether or not they seize all possessions of everyone on every planet they capture, like the nazis did to my grandmother and her entire island. We have no knowledge whether or not they subject every single person under their rule to a strict and paltry rations regimen. If we go by Jakku, and that’s really all we have to go by, Extreme Capitalism runs free and laissez-faire governance is the order of the day- that is the exact opposite of nazism. So please, as someone who grew up constantly hearing stories about the Occupation, please refrain from tossing that word around so much. I was at the AAAS meeting last weekend which is a massive gathering of scientists, and one very old scientist from Vienna recounted the day the nazis took over his schoolyard and regimented them all, how the planes flew over (my grandmother’s experience as well- she was forced to learn german for a time), etc. and he has also said that the current state of affairs in the US is nothing like those times- a court in Washington state would never have been able to stop an order from Hitler in the 1930s. He says we are far from that reality at the moment and should also refrain from constantly making that comparison, and as much as I’m personally afraid of nuclear war breaking out, I have to agree- what’s going on today and back then are two separate situations.

Analyzing characters from TFA vs. trying to contextualize them against the real world: I understand what you’re saying about the perception you’re picking up on. The world is in a shameful state, and as someone who has the rather terrible task of combing through US news for a living, I understand this so intimately that I have nightmares about what goes on. This is why sometimes my posts come out with a bit more edge than is meant from time to time, but how could anyone know that? It’s no one’s job to know that. And again, I do understand that my tone wasn’t the best in that post- I’ve been working over the past year since it was made to try and correct that. Tone has admittedly always been my biggest enemy online.

You feel that Kylo is excused because of his actor’s skin color, and that Finn gets nit-picked because of his actor’s skin color. I hear you, and I admit that I cannot weigh in on that. I’m simply not equipped with the experiences you have had in order to do so. All I can do is share with you why I’ve spent so much time analyzing Kylo/Ben and Rey in depth, and I will try to do so without getting too personal. Essentially, I grew up in a situation not dissimilar to Kylo’s current state in the story. Imagine a close family member in the place of Snoke and there you have it. I mostly managed to escape. Mostly. But the damage has been done and recently they have begun to actively stalk me again. I spent a lot of last fall calling the police and filling out reports. But I’m still damaged goods. Kids used to fight me in school but I always bent the rules so not only did I win but I only ever got sort-of in trouble once. I have on very, very rare occasions been in terrible rages that luckily either no one was around or I still had enough sense of self to leave. I’ve survived murder attempts. I had to twist my future around just to keep a roof over my head in high school and I’m only now, so, so late, starting to get things back on track. Nothing will ever be what it should have been- all because of that one person from the moment I was born. So I see a lot of myself in Kylo. I can understand his perspective better than the rest of the characters and this makes him not only enjoyable for me to write in fics but also analyze from a literary perspective. I’m interested in seeing Ben succeed because it means if he can do it- space maniac that he is- then maybe I can, too. This is why I find him fascinating. This is also why I’d like to see him get some self-fulfillment along with Rey, who is also a different kind of damaged goods with her own dark streak, but that’s admittedly a purely selfish hope on my part. So somewhere in the middle of all of these things, all of these points above times about ten or so, my mind was nowhere near current events. It was nowhere near current events at all. In fact, everything I do here is my one tiny corner to try and get away from current events, at least for a moment or two, while my main blog is filled with more news headlines, unreported crimes, and rally information. I realize the tiny escape is a luxury that many don’t have. I want you to know, though, that I understand your perspective, and I hope, somehow, in this now way, way too long post that I’ve been able to more clearly describe my own. There was never any intention for a racist perception to come across in my post, and I hope that’s something at least a little more clear now. I’d also like to take this opportunity to say that I, for the confusion, apologize. For my part, I’ll continue to be much more mindful of tone, but will also take your words to heart and consider wider perspectives outside of the immediate story as well when constructing posts. Honestly, I’d like to write more about Finn on a whole assortment of topics, but we get so crucified for even liking him that many of us in this corner of the fandom are too nervous to. I feel like there would be much more Finn content if not for things like that. This post has gotten too long- I’m sorry. But thank you again for taking the time out to write, and I hope you maybe read at least a little of this. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything. I feel like this is such a big topic that I probably have in trying to connect all the dots. Please also feel free to start a chat with me if you like- you are very much welcome to.

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