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purpleshellsforyou · 6 years ago

Text

The Room

Daddy Jefferson

Part 5 of 7

Original writer (@yrs-forevr) version here!

TW: Period-typical Sexism (ish)

AN: My dumb ass forgot I already wrote this.

Time: Hamiltime

Word Count: 1777

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5- you're here!| 6 | E

Thomas Jefferson x Reader

Letters from Alexander Hamilton had been coming in every day now, insisting that Thomas consider supporting his debt plan. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to see the multitude of papers arriving at his office but it was Hamilton, so he had come to expect it. Jefferson didn’t reply often, but that never stopped Alexander from continuing on the warpath of spreading his argumentative opinions.

The best part of Thomas’s week was when Asher ran into his office every Thursday to tell him that lunch was ready. Today the two-year-old practically bounded into the room, his face lighting up at the sight of his somewhat-adoptive father. The paperwork had never been filled out to make him a legal guardian, but he fathered him as if he had.

Asher was wearing a little blue coat that almost ran to his ankles. The color of the fabric was barely lighter than his blue-gray eyes. He was always so happy around this time of day. Y/N, Asher, and Thomas always visited the graveyard on Thursdays with a picnic lunch. Of course, the young boy didn’t really understand death yet, but he knew who his father was and why he could never come and visit. All he really recognized was that he got to spend some time eating outside with his family.

“Daddy, come on! Mamma says that it’s time to go!”

“I’ll be right there, Ash.”

“Okay! Momma helped me write a letter to Papa today! She said that if we leave it in front of the rock door, then he could read it.”

He had a goofy grin on his face that could only stay with innocence. It took everything in Jefferson not to jump up from the desk and lift Ash up in the air, playing and giggling as they went to go to lunch. Growing up in a big family, Thomas never felt alone amongst his siblings. He wanted Asher to feel the same sense of family, an assurance that he would never be alone. The Jefferson siblings, specifically his brother, visited on occasion, but never stayed long. None of them approved of his choice to live with an unmarried woman and her son. None of their critiques were worse than those in his own head.

He’s not even your son, really. You wouldn’t be a good father anyway. Think of all the women you used. If it didn’t happen then, it wasn’t meant to happen. Give it up, you’ll never be a good father, let alone a good husband.

He shook off his thoughts, faking a smile as he playfully shooed the boy from the room, promising to be down in a minute. He turned his attention to the last page he told himself he would finish before the picnic. The ink in his quill felt thinner than it was before the welcome interruption. His older brother’s words echoed in his mind:

Don’t fool yourself. You’ve grown up strong. Get power, and the happiness will follow. Men don’t love, Thomas. They take.

“I will discuss it with Madison, but I cannot make you any promises, Alexander. As amusing as it is to see you beg before me like a lost dog, I cannot set aside my values, nor can I speak for James.”

“This debt plan must be passed, Jefferson. This country needs it passed.”

“You always want everything to go through. Sorry, Washington isn’t going out of his way to make sure you get everything you want.”

Thomas stepped back through the front doorway, making a move like he was about to shut the door on Hamilton. He was truly feeling desperate to come and ask Thomas Jefferson for help. It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, but one of ‘how far are you willing to go?’.

“Wait.”

“What?” the democratic-republican snapped.

“What if you got something out of it?”

Thomas sneered back at the man: “I’m not the one that needs something out of it.”

“We can negotiate something. Something that can help the Southern states.”

“The South doesn’t need your hel-

“Please.”

Jefferson paused, thinking about what he and Y/N had been teaching Asher the previous night. Although you may not agree with everyone, listening and being polite can be the most important part to changing their mind. Breathing in through his clenched teeth, Thomas seethed:

“Come over Sunday night at 5 pm. We can talk then.”

Hamilton smirked and nodded before he turned back to his carriage. Jefferson rolled his eyes and slowly let out a full breath, finally closing the door. This wasn’t going to be fun. Now he had to go see Madison and, more importantly, he hated bringing work home. His house was, with the exception of his office, somewhere that he didn’t have to be a politician.

Sunday dragged along as a fury of angry conversation wracked the halls of the Jefferson residence. James had agreed to join Thomas for dinner, but he knew something was wrong when he was the only one to show up at the front door. When Thomas ushered him inside and explained the situation, there was nothing stopping the bickering.

It was unusual for Thomas to request that Y/N not speak with him, but it was painfully clear that he didn’t want to prevent her or Asher from joining him in the first place. It was all too likely that whatever was to be exchanged was not going to be appropriate for Asher to hear in the first place. It was decided that they would all go out together the next day to make up for the evening and, with any stroke of luck, celebrate.

Y/N had taken her less than enthusiastic son upstairs, promising mac and cheese to encourage him to come upstairs. He bounded up alongside her, but not before turning around to wave at Thomas as he turned the corner.

Place cards had been set around an old oak table and courses for the meeting had been determined- all standard for political gatherings. However unconventional it may be, Jefferson tried to set things in a good light by separating his home life from the shared political discourse.

James was still grumbling his disdain for the meeting as Alexander arrive. As the three politicians made their way to the dining room, they attempted to discreetly size one another up. The air, an intoxicating mixture of parchment and cheese, hung heavily over them lazily. The first course has been set out on the table for their arrival. Every movement from the men was strategic, a test of where the power in the room was held. As the dining room doors thumped closed behind them, the atmosphere only grew more stiflingly uncomfortable.

It was an hour later when a side door into the room creaked open. The pitter patter of small feet entered, unaware of what they had just interrupted. The politicians paused their conversation, looking up from the documents they were assessing to see the two-year-old hop up onto a chair and reach for the bowl of mac n’ cheese.

Jefferson was the first to break the silence.

“Asher, what are you doing down here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

The boy looked up, some cheese sauce stuck around his mouth.

“Mama fell asweep.”

“She fell asleep?”

“Mmh Hmm. She was reading the book you made again, but she stopped and went to sweep. I know because she’s breathing loud again.”

Hamilton glanced to Madison, wondering what his take on this was. If he expected a reaction from James, he didn’t get much of one. All he really looked like was a man trying to hold in a cough.

“Alright, little soldier. Let’s get you to bed. You need to have lots of dreams so you have energy for all the fun we’re going to have tomorrow with your mom.”

Asher’s eyes lit up with excitement and happily took Thomas’s hand to lead him upstairs.

Alexander looked like someone had slapped him in the face. James turned his focus to Hamilton, seemingly unaffected by Asher’s appearance.

“For your debt plan to have the slightest hope of passing-”

“I didn’t know he could act so fatherly.”

Unsure of what to say, Madison pulled out his handkerchief and quietly coughed a few times. He had seen Thomas with Asher several times, taking him to see his office or meet new people when Y/N needed a little time to herself. Alexander still appeared to be tripping on his tongue, clearly thinking out what he wanted to say next. He opened his mouth several times before deciding to say;

“I thought Jefferson was more of a… um… catch-and-release type guy.”

“He was.”

“He isn’t now?”

James smiled cryptically before he answered “If I would have once called him a player in the game of lust, I would now say that he has traded his spades for hearts.”

“I never considered Jefferson one to fall for love.”

Hamilton looked perplexed and somewhat calmer, but Madison was clearly displeased with his comment. There was no mistaking the subtle venom in his voice as he quipped “Many would say the same of you, Alexander. Greed and lust leave a man far more vulnerable than love ever could. Although he may not be the man you thought you knew, he is a better father than you imagined him to be. All he is doing is trying to be there for a boy without a father, a position he has filled wholeheartedly.”

For the first time since the beginning of the meeting, the dining room was completely silent.

When Thomas found Y/N sitting on the rocking chair, he couldn’t help but grin at the small gray blanket that had been placed somewhat haphazardly over her legs and part of her abdomen. The person that tried to put it over her had clearly not been tall enough to reach, despite being on his tiptoes.

When Asher tugged at his hand questioningly, he focused his attention on getting him to go to sleep. Jefferson made sure to brush the little boy’s teeth- he had eaten again after all -and put his favorite stuffed animal in the bed with him. As Asher finally fell asleep, Thomas went back over to Y/N.

She was sleeping so peacefully. It was rare that she got to sleep early, so Thomas took great care not to disturb her as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her across the hall. Y/N was in her nightclothes already, and he just slipped her into her own bed and closed the door behind him as he left, choosing not to acknowledge the warm feeling in his chest as he did so.

#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #daddy jefferson

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purpleshellsforyou · 7 years ago

Note

Hey friend is it possible for you to tag ppl in the fics? (I want to be notified when an update of the Jefferson fic is up but Idk if u do tags so imma just ask anonymously and if u say yes I’ll come back to you xD)

Hell yeah! You can let me know in an ask or pm if you’d prefer that.

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purpleshellsforyou · 7 years ago

Text

Baba

Daddy Jefferson

Part 4 of 7

Original writer (@yrs-forevr) version here!

TW: None

Time: Hamiltime

Word Count: 1593

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4- you're here!| 5 | 6 | E

Thomas Jefferson x Reader

“He’s old enough to go! And don’t you want to see what I do for work?”

“He’s not even a year old yet! He isn’t going to understand anything!

“He’s going to grow up in politics either way, why not make it early?” Jefferson replied in a playfully snarky tone.

“I don’t want him to disrupt the meeting. The rare times that Asher is typically asleep line up with the meeting, and I don’t want him to wake up in a fit and ruin your meeting.”

“I haven’t met everyone that’s going to be there, but I know that most of the men there have children anyway. They know what having a baby is like. Besides, Washington loves kids and I don’t want to leave you here alone while I’m in New York.”

“Won’t the meeting be closed to cabinet members anyway?”

“I’ll make sure that you get clearance. I think I may have an ‘outside expert’ sit in on this financial plan.”

Upon seeing the disbelief on her face, he added “Relax. It will be fine for you and Asher.”

“Thomas Jefferson, always hesitant with the President

Reticent—there isn’t a plan he doesn’t jettison

Madison, you’re mad as a hatter, son, take your medicine

Damn, you’re in worse shape than the national debt is in”

Things were not going fine. Bringing a 7-month-old to a cabinet meeting was not a good idea. Asher had been sound asleep, despite the noise, in his mother’s arms. That was until the name “Thomas Jefferson” left Hamilton’s mouth.

“Turn around, bend over, I’ll show you

Where my shoe fits!”

The last outburst was all it took for him to start wailing. Trying her damndest not to interrupt anything more than she already had, Y/N tried to quickly leave the room with Asher so that she could try to calm him down and figure out what he needed. Hamilton, being a father himself, fortunately wasn’t too phased by the crying baby. He gave Y/N a glance before turning to Washington in time to hear the president ordering him to ‘take a walk’.

Jefferson’s concentration, on the other hand, was completely broken. His political facade of confidence fell in an instant, the mask coming off and his attention immediately turned to Asher and Y/N.

He quickly brushed off Washington’s words, hurrying out into the hall after Y/N. Hamilton’s voice chased after Jefferson, a taunting:

“You wouldn’t know a good debt plan if it flew in front of your face. I saw you walk in the room. I doubt you could see the freedom that I fought to gain from the bed you made with a married woman.”

James had followed Thomas across the room, and he tried to hide his smile as Alexander approached an energized Jefferson, the two of them taunting back a jarring

“Don’t you dare drag my personal life into this again, or you’re gonna regret it. I have never touched that woman. She’s a better parent than I’m sure you ever have been.

“Besides, you don’t have the votes to pass your plan. Congressional approval is such a wonderful hurdle that you’re too short to jump. Keep on yelling obscenities and see where that gets you.”

Before James could back up his statement, Thomas was walking out of the room. His coat flying fiercely behind him, he rushed to find the mother and baby to try and help. They weren’t difficult to find, all it took was for him to follow the sound of crying. Asher had quieted down significantly, no doubt a result of his mother lightly bouncing him and talking to him softly.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s okay. Still fussy, but better. I’m so sorry that he woke up in the meeting. Is the president upset? I should go and apologize. I told you that bringing Asher and I was a bad idea.”

“Washington? He’s upset, but it’s not at you. The whole situation wasn’t what he was hoping for.”

“I’ll go get my things so we can leave. May you please take Asher? I don’t want him to get even more upset from going back in the meeting room.”

“Absolutely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure I can get him to quiet down.”

Y/N rolled her eyes in a way that indicated she believed otherwise. Asher was sniffling and pulling on his blanket as she handed him carefully to Thomas before quickly going to gather her personal items and Asher’s things she has with her. James soon found his friend in the hall, still baffled at the sudden exit he had taken. When he saw him cradling a baby in his arms, his confusion only grew.

“Thomas, why did you practically run away? We can’t let Hamilton win. Not that he could, but he can't leave thinking that he has. What are you doing with a baby? Oh, no. Is this from another one of your French ‘flings’?”

Jefferson shot him a look, completely disregarding his other questions.

“This is Asher. He’s not mine.”

“What? Whose child are you holding? Bring them back to their family! What the hell did you do in France?”

Thomas couldn't help but laugh at his friend’s worries. Despite James’s less than stellar health, the man could run his mouth if he wanted to. Jefferson hadn’t even thought about indiscretions in months... All of his focus had been on getting the minimal amount of work done so that he could spend time with Y/N and Ash. Before he could explain all that had happened, the boy in question broke his train of thought. His little lungs had stopped heaving and let out a surprisingly happy “Da!”

It felt like everything stopped. James, who hadn’t even heard the whole story, was the one to pull Jefferson a bit closer back to the reality of the situation.

“Thomas, if he’s not yours, then he definitely shouldn’t be calling you that.”

“I didn’t teach him that... There isn’t anyone else that could have besides Y/N.”

“Christ, Thomas, how many people did I miss you meeting?”

“She’s his mother.”

“Then why would she-”

“She’s Y/N Abraham. Hunter’s wife.”

Madison’s face set in recognition, then into horror and pain. He let out a breathy ‘oh’, looking now more sadly at the infant in his friend’s arms. He was visibly healthy, and judging by the scene he had made in the meeting room, he had a strong set of lungs.

Washington rounded the corner, presumably returning from talking to Alexander considering that he was rubbing his temples and walking harshly. He always looked tired and a bit frustrated after speaking with his so-called ‘right-hand man’. His eyes lightened when he saw a baby cradled in the Secretary of State’s grasp.

“Who’s this little soldier? Would he happen to be the one that called out Alexander today?”

James chuckled warmly, seeming to be the only one that fully appreciated the general’s sense of humor.

“He catches on quickly to the difference between right and wrong.” Thomas replied smoothly.

“May I hold him?” Washington asked without a second thought, looking at Asher rather than Jefferson.

He was hesitant. It wasn’t his child, but Y/N surely wouldn’t mind and his protective feeling over the boy was too strong for Jefferson to feel comfortable with. Before he could speak, Y/N had rounded the corner once again, baby bag in hand, and replied for him.

“Of course you may, President Washington. I am so sorry for his outburst earlier.”

He smiled at the young lady greeting him, putting two and two together and figuring out she must be the mother.

“Not a problem at all, ma’am. The meeting was finishing up anyway and everyone understands that this little guy has a mind of his own. There is no fault, but thank you for your apology regardless.” He turned his attention to Thomas. “I hope that this is your grounds for not coming up to New York sooner, Mr. Jefferson. I can’t imagine that there would be any better reason. I’m sorry that I haven't sent anything, I was unaware that you had a child or a wife.”

Y/N cut in without hesitation to answer for Thomas. “Oh! No, that isn’t the case. I’m afraid that we are guilty of holding him in Monticello, but we are not married. Asher is my son. Mr. Jefferson is merely a friend that is helping my son and I after my husband passed away at the end of the war.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, miss. I don’t know what I'd do without my Martha.”

Thomas pretended that he didn’t feel a sharp sting in his heart at the word ‘friend’. He tried to regulate his heartbeat to little avail, ignoring the little voice in his head that said “Stop. You shouldn’t be feeling that. She’s your guest and good friend. Leave it at that before you make her uncomfortable.”

Asher seemed to be enjoying the president’s arms quite a bit. He was beaming up at the general with green eyes and a gurgling smile. The older man smiled back. He liked most children but Asher especially grabbed at his heartstrings. He understood that it was difficult to raise a child alone, but it seemed that Thomas had that covered. He bumped Ash around a bit, happy with himself once he got a small excited squeal from him. He was even more surprised when the infant joyfully exclaimed:

“Baba!”

Y/N looked on in happy shock while Jefferson kept the fact that it was not, in fact, Asher’s first word to himself.

#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #hamilton imagine

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purpleshellsforyou · 7 years ago

Text

March

Daddy Jefferson

Part 3 of 7

Original writer (@yrs-forevr) version here!

TW: Childbirth

Time: Hamiltime

Word Count: 1688

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3- you're here!| 4 | 5 | 6 | E

Thomas Jefferson x Reader

Jefferson’s offer for her to live with him had been discussed over many days with the Everetts. There were extensive conversations about how it would help or hurt her, especially at this point in her pregnancy and how potentially drastic changes may affect the baby. It certainly wasn’t desirable to have an expecting mother move, but everyone agreed that space for her to comfortably and safely spread her wings was too good to pass up. Especially since this wasn’t exactly the greatest change during her pregnancy thus far.

Several dinners were arranged between both the Jefferson and Everett estates, switching locations in order to give Y/N a feel for the house without turning her world on its head.

It took her quite a while to think over, but Y/N settled on easing her way into Monticello. Thomas seemed thrilled with the idea, expressing his willingness to help by immediately having a nursery furnished in a westward facing room in the massive estate. Her room was right next door- although he assured her that it could be moved if she wished as the baby got older.

It took her three months to move herself across town. She started staying there more and more frequently until she was adjusted and living there full time. The Everetts seemed happy with this placement as well, both of them joking that their patient was recovering well and growing up. Her move wasn’t without a promise to visit them often- for both checkups and chats.

The nursery was a pale brown color-something that fit the wing of the house but still allowed for any spills on the walls to go unnoticed. A small basket was set up in Y/N’s personal room, while a small bed was set up next door along with some miniature toys and books meant for young children. Some of the books were written by Thomas himself- something he claimed was no problem and barely took any time- but she couldn’t ignore the way his face beamed when she saw them.

All of them were regarding politics in some fashion but one in particular made Y/N gasp. There was a meticulously strung book entitled “My Father”. She spent the night reading through it over and over again. Sometimes she read it aloud, and other times she kept herself quiet. Thomas explained that he looked through all he could find about Hunter and gathered it together. He claimed no child should go without knowing their father and how heroic he was.

Dinners felt different in the large dining room without the Everetts alongside her, but Y/N soon found a topic to discuss with Jefferson. Although their political views didn’t always agree, there was an element of respect when regarding each other.

They both walked down to the graveyard together, which was a bit closer to Monticello than the doctor’s office. It became a daily occurrence to find the two of them walking (or in Y/N’s case, waddling) down the road with a flower in her hand to place on her husband’s grave.

The baby was due in a week and she couldn’t see her feet anymore. Jefferson had given her a pair of shoes that were too small for him to walk in. Although they helped, Y/N still found it uncomfortable.

At 9:30, no matter what he was doing, Thomas would stop working and go to the foyer to meet Y/N. He would tie his shoes on her feet and they would be off. They would briefly stop in a small flower shop in the town, picking out a singular flower for the day and making their way to the graveyard. Today Y/N had chosen a white camelia- Hunter’s favorite flower.

“But I want to take you and the baby to France! You would love the culture and I want to introduce Mini-Abraham to politics.”

“Thomas, let me have the baby first.”

“Okay, okay. But I’m still introducing him to politics.”

Y/N stopped walking. Shaking her head lightly, she gathered her thoughts before she started again, catching up to a confused Jefferson that had stopped a moment after her. She bit her bottom lip, staying silent until she sat down on the bench 5 minutes later.

“You said him...” It took Thomas a moment to realize what she was referring to.

“I suppose I did.”

“Hunter always said that he thought our first baby would be a girl- he said that she would be the only princess that he would allow in the colonies.” Her smile was bittersweet, feeling better but still somewhat guilty about her husband’s death.

Life can be difficult at times, but it’s going to make you stronger. You were meant for this moment, so show the world what you can do.

“Y/N, Dr. Everett said that you should lay down. You’ve been in labor for 3 hours now.”

“I’m in labor. I’m in pain. I’m doing what makes me feel better, and that’s walking. Sit down if it makes you feel better, but you need to shut up, magenta man.”

Thomas held up his hands in mock surrender, smirking inwardly at her snarkiness despite the pain she was surely in.

“Yes, ma'am.”

She was wearing a cream colored and loose fitting nightgown as she paced back and forth in the small bedroom of the Everett’s guest house. Her water had broken around 9 pm, and Thomas had immediately rushed her into a carriage and to the doctor’s.

Annabelle had welcomed them inside and showed them upstairs. She almost immediately left to get blankets and some hot water, something her husband had asked her to do. Jefferson had left the room and Dr. Everett had checked her dilation. She was at 2 cm an hour ago.

Two. Damn. Centimeters.

Y/N felt like she was about to explode and two centimeters meant that she wasn’t ready to get this done. Thomas was sitting in a chair off to one side of the room. His knee was bouncing up and down as he kept staring at her walk back and forth around the small bed.

“Does the pacing make you feel better?”

“Not really, but moving feels okay.”

Jefferson tried to ignore the small grunts that she made from pain, but when her teeth gritted for the 10th time, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Are you sure there’s nothing that I can do? May I get Doctor Everett?”

Y/N nodded with her bottom lip between her teeth, and the doctor came in a few minutes later when Thomas got back. He motioned for her to sit on the bed and she did so, leaning back as Jefferson stood behind her facing the wall to give her privacy. There was a nurturing tone as Samuel asked:

“Do you feel any need to push?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if I’m ready to-”

“You’re all set, Y/N. You’re dilated, and this little soldier wants to greet the world.”

It was hard to say whether she growled or whimpered in return, but she grabbed Thomas’s hand, surprising him and turning him around. He couldn't’ see anything due to the fabric that had been set up for privacy but he still looked a bit uncomfortable. He was careful not to overstep any boundaries. Y/N’s voice was exhausted, but she gritted out: “You’re my friend, Thomas. Please, just help.”

Three and a half hours later, Asher William Abraham was happily sleeping in his mother’s arms and Thomas Jefferson was being treated for two fractured fingers. The blood was somewhat cleaned up, but Dr. Everett had told her to spend the night there because the bleeding may continue, even after post-afterbirth. She agreed, paying more attention to her son than the doctor’s warning.

Her entire world had shifted and for the first time since her wedding, Y/N let a few tears of joy escape.

“How’s your prince?”

“He’s sleepy right now...”

“Sounds like the queen is sleepy too.”

‘Mmmmhm.”

Her eyelids were drooping, but she didn’t take her eyes off her son. She was going to fall asleep finally, and when she did, Thomas scooped up Asher to make sure that he didn’t fall from her arms.

He had never held children before, even with his many siblings, but when he looked down at the sleeping newborn, he felt his world turn upside down.

“Shhh, Ash. Let’s not wake up your mama.”

“Thomas?”

Y/N walked sleepily into Asher’s for-now-nursery, which was a large walk-in closet attached to her room. She didn’t want the baby far from her when he was this young. Thomas was holding the week-old baby in his arms, looking tired but focused. Asher’s green eyes were intently watching him, showing no signs of sleeping anytime soon.

“I was working in my office right down the hall when I heard him crying. I know you’ve gotten up all week and I wanted to let you sleep.”

Her heart clenched involuntarily at the gesture. She sighed, making her way over and looking at her son in his arms.

“Thank you. I’m sorry that you were interrupted... Why are you working this late anyway?”

“Oh, just some legislation that I need to get set. He isn’t a bother at all.”

Y/N almost made a remark about his work ethic and ask if it had improved with the company but she stopped herself.

“Dr. Everett said that his eye color may change, but I don’t think they will... Hunter had the brightest green eyes, and they’re not going away. I can feel it.”

Those wide eyes stared up at her, awestruck and listening to her voice.

“Thank you for calming him down.” She looked up. “You should be asleep too.”

“It wasn’t a big issue, just some things to tidy up.”

“Still, you need sleep too.” She placed a now drowsy Asher back in his basket filled with fluffy blankets. She watched for a minute as he drifted off to sleep. “Goodnight, Thomas” was all she trusted herself to say before she went back to bed, glancing briefly into the hallway to make sure the man was walking past his office and to his room to sleep.

#daddy jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson #hamilton: an american musical

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purpleshellsforyou · 7 years ago

Text

Changes

Daddy Jefferson

Part 2 of 7

Original writer (@yrs-forevr) version here!

TW: Pregnancy

Time: Hamiltime

Word Count: 1122

Chapters: 1 | 2- you're here!| 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | E

Thomas Jefferson x Reader

A week after meeting Thomas, Y/N was still visiting Hunter’s headstone every day. Her eyes were dry and she was finally starting to accept his passing, but she still wanted to stay close to him. Every day at 10 am like clockwork, she would arrive at the gravesite, rain or shine.

But three weeks after she had met the Virginian politician, Y/N approached the site to see a small bench in front of the headstone. It was a respectable distance away from the grave marker, not on top of where he was buried- as if someone made sure it had been placed perfectly for a photograph. A small folded piece of parchment was sitting on the bench; it was addressed to her.

Y/N,

I know that this bench will find use in your life. I hope my asking how often you came here didn’t cross any boundaries. Please tell me if you would like me to stop speaking with you or asking about you. However, If this bench makes your day even just a bit easier, it will be worth it.

You’re not alone.

Thomas Jefferson

Y/N sat down on the bench, placing her skirts around her and feeling the weight of the stone bench beneath her. For the first time since his burial, she let herself speak aloud to Hunter. She went on about what was happening to her and the baby, always referring to them as their “little soldier”. She babbled on a bit, saying how she missed him and that she was living with the Everetts. It didn’t matter what she said to him; it mattered that she was saying it.

Annabelle walked up to the graveyard to see Y/N suffering in her own thoughts. It wasn’t that she wanted to intrude, but she noticed that the young woman had been gone a bit longer than usual today. When she approached to see her sitting on a bench, she couldn’t help but smile. Thomas had dropped by every day around 10:30 to see if Y/N was there, claiming that he wanted to check in with her husband, Samuel, about James Madison’s medications. Annabelle knew that he was checking to see if Y/N really went to the graveyard every morning.

There was no doubt that the bench was his doing. She knew that Y/N came back each day with grass and dirt clinging to the folds of her dresses, and she knew that Jefferson had seen her grievance first hand. He had never been impolite or suggestive when asking about Y/N to Annabelle, but he instead seemed genuinely worried about Y/N and her baby.

The expecting mother was nothing but polite to her and her husband, but she knew that both Abrahams were going to need more space. Space that the small guest house didn’t provide. She would never kick her out or suggest she leave in any fashion, but she was worried that Y/N would try to leave by herself. She didn’t need to make it through this alone.

Perhaps I should have brought tea with me... Annabelle thought to herself as she sat next to Y/N, but it was too late to go back to her house. Y/N grasped her hand, giving a weak squeeze. Mrs. Everett squeezed back. Voice hoarse from talking, Y/N murmured: “I only want what’s best for them...”

At the second squeeze of her hand, she continued.

“Hunter and I talked about kids. We always said that it would happen whenever the time was right. We would laugh about how the stars would align and our lives would come together at the perfect moment. I didn’t realize it would be in death.”

She stopped for a moment to compose herself. A sad smile of remembrance danced on her face. She was done with crying, but that didn’t stop the nauseous feeling from rising in the pit of her stomach. Getting up, Y/N let go of Annabelle’s hand and began walking back to the doctor’s office, where she had agreed to have a check-up at 1 pm.

“Y/N, may I come in please?”

She didn’t expect to see Thomas Jefferson standing at her doorstep at 6 p.m., but he had come this far and the Everetts trusted him. Gesturing into the small living room, she moved back from the doorframe to let him in.

“Mr. Jefferson, why are you here?”

He shifted uncomfortably and sat in a small chair, Y/N now opposite him and looking at him skeptically. He was wringing his hands together, face looking down at his shoes and a few stray curls falling in front of his eyes.

“I didn’t think that I would actually do this, but here it goes for the hell of it: I don’t write legislation until it’s necessary to prove someone else wrong or to improve the country’s policy.”

Y/N sent him a strange look, wondering why he came all this way to tell her this.

“I never feel truly alive when I write. I have a house that feels empty. All my friends live with their wives- which I understand- but they all have life in their worlds.”

He spoke so fast and nervous that he began to run out of breath. He gulped, then continued again, his voice a whisper of the confident man she had heard in the doctor’s office.

“You- for some reason- make me write and think like I’ve never thought before. I have this pull to help you. I don’t expect anything at all from you. Please, believe me. I know that your world seems like it’s flying around you right now. I just want to help you get the best possible future for you and your child.”

Thomas looked at Y/N with kind but reserved eyes and she couldn't help but believe him as he continued to speak, slowly relaxing as he went on.

“Your husband was a Lieutenant under my best friend, James Madison, in the Orange County 3rd regiment. I have been told that he saved his life on more than one occasion. I understand if you decline, but I would like to help you. You and your husband have helped me more than you could ever know.

“Monticello is always open to you if you would like your own space. I have a number of rooms that aren’t in use that could be turned into a bedroom or nursery. Just say the word. Thank you, Y/N, for your hospitality. I’m afraid that I have to go now, for I’m sure I have overstayed my welcome here.”

His coat swept behind him as he blushed bright red and hurried out the cottage, leaving Y/N alone to gather her thoughts before she went to dinner next door.

#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #Daddy Jefferson #hamilton: an american musical

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purpleshellsforyou · 7 years ago

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Loss

Daddy Jefferson

Part 1 of 7

Original writer (@yrs-forevr) version here!

TW: Death, grief, pregnancy

AN: No, this probably isn’t what you think it is based on the title. It’s not as depressing as the warnings make it sound!

TW: Death, Grief, Pregnancy

Time: Hamiltime

Word Count: 1925

Chapters: 1- you’re here!| 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | E

Thomas Jefferson x Reader

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The war was supposed to end and her husband was supposed to be home with her. Y/N wasn’t supposed to fall in love from an arranged marriage. She wasn’t supposed to get pregnant. A stray bullet wasn’t supposed to have struck her husband’s heart - the war was over, and yet it had to take just one more victim.

Y/N wasn't supposed to be trembling in front of the small sleet grey tombstone etched with the name Hunter William Abraham, but it was happening anyway.

Y/N just wanted her husband to hold her; to tell her that everything happens for a reason, as he always did. She imagined him wrapping his arms around her waist like he always had, the way she now held herself, alone. He used to rest his head on hers and murmur the same silly phrase in her ear:

Life can be difficult at times, but it’s going to make you stronger. You were meant for this moment, so show the world what you can do.

She loved him, and he had loved her. It all started with an arranged marriage, which had been resented by both parties but eventually grew to be adored. “Fate brought us together” he would always say, and she would laugh. They both understood that what they had was a rare find.

Furiously wiping the tears from under her eyes, Y/N began to make her way to her real destination from the graveyard. As she opened the door to the small doctor’s office, Doctor Everett gave her a soft sympathetic smile. He had been a personal friend of the Abraham family and he knew that she needed his help.

“Come on in, let’s see how your little soldier is holding up.”

She nodded, sitting on the sturdy table for examinations in the back of the small office. She didn’t really notice the colors on the walls anymore, her eyes skipping over the medical tools meticulously lined up in the doctor’s preference of order. The worn table creaked a bit as she sat down.

She was four months along, which she knew down to the hour because it had been four months since she had last seen Hunter. Only a month of that was truly alone. Her mind wandered solemnly during the check-up. Thankfully, Dr. Everett understood and didn’t try to make small talk, only speaking when she needed to move or sit a certain way. Once he had finished the examination, his voice finally drew her thoughts back to the office.

“Everything seems to be going well with the baby. But Y/N, you know that you need to eat more. It isn’t safe.”

Safe. That word didn’t seem real to her anymore.

“Are you hearing me? Please, I don’t like you living alone.”

He gave her a healthy pause, a moment for her to breathe. “Annabelle and I can set up the guest house- you know how it’s connected right to our home. We talked about it together, and we both just want you safe and on the mend. That cottage holds too many memories for you.”

Y/N didn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes. They were all too familiar and she enjoyed the cold, raw feeling that they left on her face. The older doctor held his arms around her in an almost fatherly way. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. Her nod of agreement was all it took before he lead her to the house next door and sat her down in a small kitchen next to his wife, who smiled sadly at her.

Time went on. Y/N slowly ran out of tears to cry around the sixth month of her pregnancy. She still stopped by the graveyard to say hello to Hunter, although she was always verbally silent. Despite the silence she got in return, Y/N heard Hunter’s words bouncing back:

Show the world what you can do.

The guest house that she lived in was wonderful, but it felt like she was constantly being observed. Dr. Samuel Everett meant well, but he didn’t understand that sometimes she just needed to think and write for a moment rather than drink yet another glass of water.

When she got back to the Everetts’ house, Annabelle was cooking lunch. She was always kind to Y/N, respecting her space and distance. She somehow found all the right times to talk, and Y/N found herself opening up to her quite a bit. It was nice to open up to somebody that returned your conversation without feeling as if they were tiptoeing around broken glass.

“Do you mind bringing this next door for me? Sam doesn’t have any appointments right now but he doesn’t want me to distract him.”

Y/N smiled politely, something that felt unnatural and forced nowadays, and went out the door. She called: “Be back in a moment!” to Annabelle and she could practically hear the woman beaming from the other side of the door at the verbal reply.

She knocked lightly, not wanting to disturb any of the doctor’s work, as she assumed he would he be filing records. Hearing no reply from inside, she gently pushed open the wooden door with her arm and back due to her hands being full with a small platter.

The murmuring from the back office didn’t alarm her. Dr. Everett was known to talk to himself regarding treatment options for patients from time to time. It startled her when she turned the corner and saw a man in a violently bright jacket having a conversation with him. She jumped a bit, blushing at her mistake.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that anyone was here. Annabelle said that you weren’t scheduled for anything. I assumed you were talking to yourself. Not that I mean you’re crazy, I’ve just heard you before...”

Her interruption was met with a deafening silence. The man in the bright coat, magenta, she now realized- was staring at her almost reverently. She shifted her weight awkwardly as his eyes almost immediately went to her stomach. He blinked and cleared his throat before looking at her eyes again in a feeble attempt to not stare at the noticeable baby bump.

“It’s quite alright, Y/N. Just set it here, please. I’ll eat in a moment.” Samuel gave her a smile, indicating that she truly didn’t bother him with her intrusion. She nodded and quickly ducked back into the other room. Once she was out of their sight, Y/N took a moment to collect herself. She tried not to get too overwhelmed, placing her hands over her baby out of what had become a nervous habit. She heard Doctor Everett clear his throat before the other man began to speak again.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Back to James. I need to know everything that’s been happening. His fluid intake was getting better before I left, as was his cough, but I doubt he told you that. His voice was also getting a bit scratchier- it’s nothing too problematic but I could see it bothered him, despite his insistence that he was fine.”

“Mr. Jefferson, I cannot put any of my patients on regimens that they do not want. And as much as I’m sure you would like me to tell you everything regarding Mr. Madison, I cannot give out that information. I suggest that you ask him personally.”

A chair creaked and she assumed that the man in the coat- Jefferson, as Dr. Everett had called him- was leaning back in the chair. There was no sound until Jefferson relented, agreeing with him and taking a deep breath. Y/N imagined that he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Did accidentally do something to frighten the young woman that was just here? I meant no ill will towards her...”

Y/N heard some uncomfortable shifting before the tone of the room changed at the sound of shifting chairs and the doctor’s voice dropped to a low, hoarse whisper, as if he were afraid to speak too loudly.

“Thomas, I cannot share her story with you. She is my patient and I will not speak out of term about her. I care for her as if she were my own daughter.”

“I understand. Please send my apologies to her and her husband for anything I did that may have made her uncomfortable. I did not mean to overstep my boundaries.”

Y/N didn’t stick around to hear the rest. She flew out the door and down the street faster than she anticipated. She couldn’t feel her feet. It was as if she was flying over the stones. She was nowhere surprised when she ended up in the graveyard. Broken people run to broken places.

She collapsed in front of the stone marked with the name “Abraham”, the grass or dirt collecting on her dress didn’t get as much as a thought. Her tears refused to fall, but her body shook without her realizing.

When she next looked up it was at the feeling of fabric being draped over her shoulders. She didn’t remember being there for a long time, but when her eyes refocused it was near dusk, and the man with the frizzy hair and extravagant clothing choice was setting his coat over her.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Mrs., uh, Ms. Abraham. Dr. Everett and his wife said that you would be here. It was getting rather late and I offered to come get you- or offer company if you would prefer to stay a little longer.”

She felt it. The sympathy that was radiating off of him as if in waves. She only ever got it once people found out about Hunter...

“He told you everything, didn’t he, Mr. Jefferson?”

“No, I asked his wife and contacted a friend of mine that holds the war records. Annabelle has been a good friend of my family for quite a while, she trusts me.”

She didn’t blame her at all for telling him- she supposed that her running out of the office was reason enough for an explanation. The following silence was somehow comforting to Y/N. He wasn’t judging or treating her like a china doll. He was looking at her with something that she hadn’t seen in a long time. He was looking at her like she was strong.

She got up from the ground stiffly, holding her arms around herself and grabbing onto Jefferson’s coat. He kept a polite distance as they walked back to the Everetts’ home. When she stopped in front of the door and handed him his coat, Thomas took her hand and kissed the top of it.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t meet under better circumstances, Mr. Jefferson. Thank you very much for your company tonight,” Y/N hummed indifferently.

“Anytime, Ms. Abra-”

“Please, call me Y/N.” Her voice sounded hesitant, but he tried to keep her from getting upset again.

“Of course, Y/N. Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Just ask Mr. Everett to contact me and I will help in any way I can.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Jefferson, but I think I just need some time.”

“Call me Thomas.”

“Very well, Thomas. Have a nice night.”

He nodded in response, and she opened the door and let herself inside. He waited for the door to be completely closed before he turned around to head home. Y/N didn’t even notice the smile that had crept onto her face during the walk home.

#thomas jefferson x reader #daddy jefferson #hamilton: an american musical #thomas jefferson

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purpleshellsforyou · 7 years ago

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A Winter’s Ball

Angelica Schuyler x Reader

Time: Hamiltime

Word Count: 832

TW: Comments about gender inequality/homophobia because people were taught to believe that in this time period

AN: Female reader

Summary: Angelica and Y/N face indirect homophobia at a ball.

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

Lavish parties were never the highlight of Y/N’s year. Although most young women her age adored the ballroom dancing and well-dressed soldiers, she found it difficult to take an interest in any of it. Nights spent uneasily dancing with nameless, faceless men were nights she could not spend in secrecy with her girlfriend.

Angelica had always been one to take the spotlight in a crowd, whether she realized it or not. Her family name dictated that every person in the room knew who she was, but the only one knew her heart. When she met Y/N Y/L/N, she met the first person that could talk with her for hours without boring her. They shared opinions that went beyond a family name. Y/N was a piece of sea glass amongst a beach of sand.

They met in a needlepoint class over the summer. Although the class was advanced beyond the expectations for respectable young ladies, both the Y/L/N and Schuyler families decided to force their daughters into the lessons. The first day they met the instructor, a kind old widower named Mrs. Fletcher, they were ushered into a small room with large windows. For those few hours, they watched people walk by on the street and worked on their needlepoint to Mrs. Fletcher's instructions.

The first two weeks were spent staring out the window. Children playing outside reminded them of the freedom they didn't have. Although the class covered more advanced techniques, much of the work had to be done outside of Mrs. Fletcher's home. On a particularly mild summer day, Y/N walked down to a small plot of unoccupied land and sat in the grass to work on her blanket she was making. The land itself had been a small escape from her everyday life when she was younger.

“I see I'm not the only one to find this secret.” Angelica smiled as she sat down next to Y/N it was a bit awkward for a few minutes, but as time went by, they grew accustomed to sitting together in the field. As the summer flew past them, neither woman pretended not to see the more than friendly glances they shared.

“What are you thinking about?” Angelica asked as she appeared next to her girlfriend. Y/N smiled at her, drawing her own attention back from the motion of the swaying dancers the dark colors of the soldiers’ jackets, swirled with the vibrant dresses of the women dancing with them.

Realizing what she had been gazing at, the oldest Schuyler sister took Y/N’s glass which she had been nursing and set it on a nearby table. After lacing their hands together, she moved her left hand to hold Y/N’s hip.

“But-” Y/N began to protest as Angelica silenced her with a pointed look and brought her girlfriend to a small section of the ballroom. “ Angie, people are staring at us…” She whispered, trying to hide her slight panic. Glancing around the room, quite a few people-including some couples that were previously dancing, had stopped to look at the two women dancing together.

“It must be because we look so good together.” Angelica quipped back.

“We both know what these people can do to women like us.”

The woman in the rose-colored dress stepped back slightly, truly looking at the tone of those around them for the first time. The air was stagnant, almost unbreathable. With a slight shake in her exhale, Angelica stood up straight and walked past Y/N, whispering “Meet me in the side yard in ten minutes”.

Y/N watched as she ascended the stairs. She held all the poise of a woman who knew she was right in her actions. Taking another sip of her drink which she had gone back for, Y/N mingled with various people for a short while, pretending she was not obsessively watching the clock.

Exactly eight and a half minutes later, she excused herself from the conversation she was having with a polite young soldier and practically fled outside. There, Angelica was seated on a small wooden bench that overlooked the property. The garden held a comfortable silence like a blanket draped over the scenery. A window on the second floor had been cracked open just enough for the music of the band to escape through.

As the two of them joined hands once again and began to sway to the music, Angelica rested her head against Y/N’s shoulder and murmured into her ear:

“Let them hang me from the highest tree in the city center if that is what it takes to be with you. Let them rip out my tongue and scream obscenities at me, for I know we do not need words alone to communicate. If being with you is improper, add it to the list of society's flaws. There will never be a man I love more than a mere second I spend with you.”

#Angelica Schuyler x Reader #Angelica Schuyler drabble #Angelica Schuyler fic #Angelica Schuyler #hamilton #hamilton: an american musical

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purpleshellsforyou · 8 years ago

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Writer Seeking Editor

Hello, shells!

I’m sorry that I have been silent for so long, but I am writing. School is just keeping me busy and it’s show season.

The issue I’m facing now is that those that usually help me edit my writing are no longer active on Tumblr. I’m hoping that maybe someone would be willing to help me out by reading over some stories that I write and letting me know what sounds awkward.

I run my fics through a grammar checker and I do look over my own work, but I miss some errors sometimes. Other times, a sentence sounds fine in my own head, but seems awkward when written out. You don’t need to “fix” the words, just comment on the doc and let me know it sounds weird.

I cannot pay you as I do not get paid myself for this (sorry). I guess some positives are that you could read my writing before it is published. I would also credit you as a beta reader. If you are a writer yourself, I would be more than willing to help you out.

If you are interested in helping me, please let me know! You don’t need to be a writer or have writing experience. Message me or reply to this post if you are interested.

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purpleshellsforyou · 8 years ago

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Vegas (John Laurens W.U.M.)

TW.U.M. is an abbreviation of Waking Up Married. Read about this series here. This one is as stereotypical as the tile suggests, but I had to write it.

John Laurens x Reader

Time: Modern (sorry)

Word Count: 1,920

TW: blatant swearing, alcohol, inebriation, smut implications, (somewhat) explicit descriptions of what could happen after sex, John being adorable

AN: I used a female reader for this. Please let me know if you would like a rewrite with different pronouns! I am more than happy to do so.

[John’s Messages]

{Alexander’s Messages}

Summary: Exactly what it sounds like from the title. John and Y/N wake up in a hotel room on Las Vegas without any memory of what happened the night before.

The sound of the couple next door fucking woke Y/N up. The feeling of acidic vomit battling its way up her throat made her rush to the small bathroom, unable to stand up straight. She had no idea whose room this was, but Y/N didn’t have time to take in their surroundings before all she could focus on was emptying her stomach as quickly as possible, trying to relieve her nausea.

Breathing heavily, Y/N rested her head against the back edge of the porcelain seat, trying to use the cool material to dull their throbbing temples. Someone groaned from the bedroom that she had just run from, and Y/N turned her head to try and look out the door without getting up. The horrific hangover she currently had told her that she probably wouldn’t remember much of last night.

The person in the other room slowly got out of bed, his hair frizzy and unwilling to stay out of his eyes. He didn’t want to get out of bed, but the sound of vomiting nearby was echoing off the walls was only making his headache worse.

Y/N didn't realize that they were both shirtless until her boyfriend John appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, looking like he had been through hell. There were scratches up and down his chest and he was clearly as hungover as Y/N was. Looking down at her own chest, she wasn’t embarrassed to be shirtless in front of John. He had seen her without clothing before. What caused the embarrassment was the now dry white stain on her stomach.

Blushing, Y/N turned on the ivory sink in the bathroom and tried to wipe off the stain using a small hand cloth that the -what she assumed to be a hotel- had provided. John continued just stare at her as she gurgled a bit of water to try and get the taste of vomit from her mouth. Groaning and retching from the acidic taste, Y/N shrugged on a rough bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the door.

Blinking away the sleep in his eyes, John groaned, obviously dehydrated despite the large amount of liquid he had consumed the day before. Glancing at the slightly irritated and reddened skin on Y/N’s abdomen, he whispered a hoarse but sincere apology at the mess they had made. He grabbed a metal trash can and spit up what felt like pure stomach acid.

Y/N took the cloth still in her hand and folded it inside out before walking over to John and gently wiping the corner of his mouth. She expected some form of thanks or a smile, despite the situation, but all she saw was John staring at her hand, looking mortified. Noticing her finger, which was slightly out of focus, there was a crooked line in black permanent marker around her ring finger. To top it all off, it appeared as if someone had tried to draw the shape of a diamond on top of the line. She heard John mutter “Oh, fuck.” before he stumbled forward and caught himself against the sink before ultimately slipping on the tile. Sharpie marked his ring finger as well. His “ring” was far sloppier and wider than Y/N’s, as if the person drawing it on had been more drunk.

“What the hell happened to us?” was all she could manage to get out of her mouth. The words hung in the air. They both knew the gravity of the question, and that the longer it remained unanswered, the easier it was for both of them to avoid their rising suspicions and uneasiness.

John didn’t have to answer his uncertainty for Y/N to get the message. He went back into the bedroom and found his phone sitting on one of the bedside tables, it’s screen now cracked when it hadn't been the previous day. Unlocking it, he pulled up a contact that he knew would have been with them for the greater part of yesterday, Alexander.

[what the fick happened last night?]

[*fuck]

{Well, good morning to you too.}

{What do you remember, John? You and Y/N got pretty drunk}

[all I know is that she and I woke up naked together and now have marker-drawn rings on our fingers]

{Ah, I see. John, when a two adults love each other very much, they can find themselves attracted to one another in… special ways. Do you understand?}

[listen, dickaass; I would kill you through this screen but I’m far too hungover. it hurts to even look at this damn screen so cut the shit or I will tell Eliza alllll about the bedtime stories you read to Philip about “Thomas the Dickbag of Shitty Writing”]

{You wouldn’t dare, We both know you had just as much fun illustrating those books as I did writing them… Anyway, you may need to call Y/N “Mrs. Laurens” now. Unless she decides to keep her last name. I wouldn’t blame her.}

[WTF]

[WTFWTFWTF]

[why the hell did you let us get married! you’re supposed to be the responsible married one!]

{I didn’t think it was that big of an issue! You’ve been dating for a few years, and you practically already act married. Weren’t you going to propose soon anyways? You just skipped a step and saved a lot of money. Do you know how many people would kill to do that?}

John couldn’t help but beam over at his now wife laying on the bed next to him. She was absolutely the best thing that ever happened to him, but he didn’t want to marry her like this. How was he supposed to tell her?

“Um, Y/N…”

“We’re married, aren’t we?”

He sat there in shock for a moment at her lack of concern.

“Relax, I figured that’s what happened. It’s no big deal. We can just get an annulment and go about it that way. I get that neither one of us are ready right now.”

When Y/N got nothing in response, she couldn’t stop the pressure that was building in her chest. She didn't expect John to welcome this with open arms, but his terrified expression confirmed her thoughts that he didn’t want to marry her. She was never the kind of person to push for marriage in a relationship, but she had hope that deep down John’s feelings for were just as strong and secure as hers for him. She knew it was just a different title on a paper, but it felt like there was something finally settled about it. And now she was certain that he just wanted to take it all back.

There was a heavy knock at the door, and John moaned from the pain it caused his head. He shuffled over to the door and unlocked it to see Hercules standing with a huge grin on his face and his brown messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

“Rise and shine, sleepyheads!”

Y/N shot him the most annoyed look she could muster, which wasn’t much considering the situation.

“Alexander said that you two were finally awake, so I brought you all the necessities!”

Mulligan turned his messenger back upside down over the mattress and a variety of fruits, water, and Gatorade tumbled out. John tossed Y/N one of the drinks before taking a sip of his own. Hercules happily stood before the creaky bed, watching his friends thank him and send him appreciative glances. He reached for his back pocket, pulling out a slightly folded slip of paper.

“Now for the fun part… Here’s your Marriage Certificate. You have nine days now to submit it and make it legally binding, if you choose to.”

Getting little reaction as he placed it on the duvet cover, Hercules watched Y/N and John stare at the paper as if it were a bomb. He understood that they both needed time to understand what happened. It probably hadn’t even sunken in yet. Turning around, he grabbed his bag and began to walk towards the door when he heard a voice call to him.

“How did you get this?” Y/N asked him. He knew that John was trying and failing to hide the smile growing on his face.

“John nearly spilled his drink on the paper and you freaked out on him for almost ruining it after the ceremony. You set it down before you almost spilled a drink on it yourself. Angelica was fast enough to grab it and give it to me for safe keeping before we helped you guys to your hotel room.”

John nodded, as if that was making sense with what little memory he had. Y/N whispered a “thank you” before Hercules saluted and bounded out the door, looking proud. She peered up at John, watching him stare in wonder at the certificate before meeting her gaze. He cleared his throat before asking “What do you want to do?”.

Y/N felt as if her lungs were closing in. Taking another sip of her water, she glanced at the bedding, suddenly finding the pattern entrancing. “I understand if you want to get rid of it.”

“What? Why would I want to do that?”

Her head snapped up, not expecting his answer.

“You seemed so upset at Alexander’s messages that I thought you would want to end the marriage. You seemed so scared and angry.”

Laurens burst out in laughter. He couldn’t help it, despite the now worsening headache.

“It was unexpected, but I could never be mad at the thought of marrying you! I was going to propose to you at dinner tomorrow, but this threw that off track a bit. I understand if you don’t want to send in the certificate, but maybe we can go around it. We could get married in my aunt’s back yard like we always talked about, and have a small ceremony for our family and close friends. Nobody needs to know that we kept the marriage. We can just have a formal party and pretend it happened then!”

His happiness was contagious. That was the only way to describe it. The excitement in the room was too much. “John Laurens, are you asking me what I think you are?”

He scrambled off the bed, rummaging around in his suitcase for a few minutes, cursing as he tried to feel his way around the contents. When he turned back around, now slightly more frazzled than before, he tripped and fell onto one knee.

“This is not at all how I expected this, holy shit. To say that we’ve been through a lot would be an understatement. You’ve helped me through my roughest times and supported me through the best of it. You were there whenever I need you and even when I didn’t realize that I did. I can’t imagine my life and future without you in it, and I would be the luckiest person alive to do so with you as my wife. Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

“It would be my pleasure, John Laurens.”

John jumped on the bed, happily slipping a real engagement ring into her finger.

“John, honey, I love you to pieces, but please don’t hold me so tightly. It hurts.”

“Sorry!”

He cuddled into her side before dragging over a laptop from the nightstand and turning it on and lowering the sound and brightness.

“Do you wanna watch something?”

“Absolutely.”

Before they eventually fell asleep next to one another, Y/N sent her friend a single text.

[Hey, Peggy! Do you still plan weddings?]

#john laurens x reader #John x Reader #John Laurens #john laurens imagine #bs plot #PEGGY IS THE BEST WEDDING PLANNER AND NOBODY CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE

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