deja-you

[deja-you]

since feeling is first

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: a rainy day on campus leads to desecrated poetry (based off the e.e. cummings poem)

masterlist

“since feeling is first

who pays any attention

to the syntax of things”

If you’re being honest with yourself, reading poetry in the rain makes you feel like the main character. It isn’t a completely pleasurable feeling–the water seeps into your bones in a way that will keep you cold for days. You find yourself shaking your hands free from water every few minutes and you’re certain the droplets of water are acting as magnified lenses on all the blemishes of your skin. But! You feel like the main character. It’s worth it.

That’s where he finds you, sprawled across the lap of a fading statue in the rain, clutching a rain-soaked book in your hands. He doesn’t hesitate to march over to where you’re perched to start verbally harassing you with phrases you can’t understand at first. Maybe it’s the rain, maybe it’s his accent, you can’t tell.

“What are you doing! You idiot!” He continues to call you names, some in French, but they all share the same meaning. His words are tinged with affection but he delivers them with urgency.

Just like that, he’s pulled you away from your statue and toward cover. You think it’s sweet that he cares about you, like this is something that a lover would do for their partner in a tragic novel. Perhaps you think this too loudly, because Lafayette fixes you with an intense look.

“I’m not in love with you, you know.”

You trudge through the water beside him and nod. “Good.”

He’s quiet for a moment. He reaches toward you and tugs the book of poetry out of your hands. It’s incredibly soggy and the cover is nearly falling off. Lafayette hardly gives it a second glance before tossing it toward a puddle a few feet away.

“What was that for?” You’re not irritated, mostly curious.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He says. Looking back at the book, he seems to feel a pang of guilt for littering, and to assuage his conscience he quickly adds: “I’m sure someone will think it is romantic to find a book of poetry lost in the rain tomorrow morning.”

You’re the kind of person who would find that romantic, so you don’t argue with him. The rain beats heavily on the two of you while you continue walking along in silence. Now you realize he’s walking with direction; Lafayette is walking you toward your dorm building.

“It’s what people have been saying, that’s all.” His comment comes out of the blue, and you blink at him a few times.

“Huh?”

“That I’m in love with you. That’s what people say.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He’s quiet for a little bit before he adds on: “And it’s not true.”

“I get it. I wouldn’t want you to be, anyway.” If that’s a lie, the both of you are already aware.

The rain lets up for a little bit to let a streetlight shine over the both of your faces. Neither of you take the opportunity to look at each other, hair matted down from the rain and skin soaked, you wouldn’t want him to look at you right now anyway.

The back of his hand brushes the back of yours.

He wants to tell you you’re stupid for sitting out in the rain to read, but he wouldn’t want you to think he cared too much for your well-being. Maybe he’s the stupid one for that, but if he was, he was already aware.

The two of you arrive at the steps to your dorm. Lafayette’s feet are glue now, stuck to the ground as if there were some sort of invisible boundary that he can’t cross (never mind that he’s crossed those steps to see you many times before).

It isn’t until you move to take a step forward that his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. It’s when you turn to look at him with puzzlement that he shouts it out loud enough for the entire university to hear.

“I love you!”

Your clothes feel too heavy to wear and the rain is too loud that you’re not certain it wasn’t your imagination.

“What?“

He clears his throat this time to make sure you hear him right.

“I love you.”

In this moment, his heart reaches out to yours to confirm what you already know. What you’ve always known.

“the best gesture of my brain

is less than your eyelids flutter

which says we are for each other”

#hamilton x reader #lafayette x reader #daveed diggs #thomas jefferson x reader #daveed diggs x reader #marquis de lafayette #thomas jefferson #reader insert #hamilton fanfic #daveed x reader #kitty’s drabbles #it’s been a while since I posted #but it’s a rainy day in September and it felt right

[deja-you]

Hello! I was wondering when you would be continuing Angel Wings and Wedding Rings??

yes, this. this is a good question. see I want to finish it... and i'm not planning on discontinuing... but i am lacking the motivation. :(

#angel wings + wedding rings #aw + wr

[deja-you]

you're one of my favourite writers here and i resonate so much with your work <3 so, thank you <3

wowww thank you. i can't tell y'all how happy it makes me to see little messages in my inbox, thank you for reaching out!

[deja-you]

Just recently refound your blog and your writing is just as incredible as I remember. <3

i-

this is so heartwarming. I don't know what else to say. thank you.

[deja-you]

Starlight

m. de lafayette x reader

chapter four | champagne and sunsets

summary: it was never your intent to be anything more than a common thief, but fate—and a rather attractive general—have other plans for you.

word count: 2.5k

masterlist | previous | next

The expression the receptionist makes when she hands over the key to the honeymoon suite is a little too suggestive, but other than that, you find that Ambros is a rather lovely planet. The high ceilings and gilded artwork on the walls of the hotel you were staying at were a mere microcosms for the glistening planet itself, rich off tourists and natural minerals. You had a brief amount of time to read up on the history of the planet from a pamphlet at the front desk while Lafayette was checking in.

The elevator ride to the twelfth floor is quick, and you and Lafayette carry your luggage to room 1215. With the slide of the key, the door swings open and you take in the sight before you. The room is spacious with large windows and a balcony facing out over the rose-colored sea. There's a large king-sized bed that takes up most of the space, rose petals strewn over the sheets. Romantic.

A golden bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket calling out to you. You drop your bags to the floor and make your way to the champagne where you find a small note from the hotel congratulating you and Lafayette on your wedding. You stifle a laugh and brandish the bottle for Lafayette to see.

"Free champagne," you grin.

Lafayette raises an eyebrow. "Starlight, we're working. This isn't a vacation."

You roll your eyes. "I'm aware, but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun. Congress is paying for the room, we really shouldn't let that money go to waste, right?"

He gives you a pointed look. "Your logic is flawed."

You sigh and put the bottle back down into the bucket; maybe you'll revisit the idea of opening the bottle of alcohol if he is going to be so uptight for the entire mission.

"I'm going to go scout the area," you mutter to him, coming up with an excuse to leave your shared living area. It's probably a good idea to memorize the layout anyway. You barely register Lafayette's response as you begin to explore the resort.

There are two entire floors dedicated just to the casino, and you make a note to yourself to check them out before you leave. A few restaurants: fine dining on the lower levels, small cafes toward the middle of the building, and a bar on one of the top observation decks. There are many attractions your hotel offers, and you decide to check out the conservatory on the twenty-ninth floor.

It's rather busy around this time of day, but the conservatory is expansive enough that you can walk around freely without bumping elbows with anyone. Walking from section to section, you slyly listen to bits and pieces of conversation hoping to pick up a lead on your target. Some time passes and realizing that you've examined a starfire flower one too many times, you decide it's time to search somewhere else.

In the elevator, you catch sight of the label "pool" on the highest level and don't think twice before pushing the button. Moments later, the elevator has shot into the sky, and with a ding, the doors roll open to reveal the light purple of the twilight sky. The weather is just right when you step out onto the roof, the warm climate of the planet combatted nicely with the early evening breeze.

Most guests are attending dinner at this time or going to see a show in one of the many theaters, so the pool deck is all yours for the taking. It's been a long day for you, so you think you deserve a little bit of self-indulgence. Removing your shoes, you sit down by the pool that seems to stretch on forever, reflecting the sky on its calm surface, and you dip your feet into the tranquil waters. Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to soak in the peace of the moment.

It feels like an eternity, but when you open your eyes and see that the sun has hardly moved from its low place in the sky, you know you haven't been up here too long. You hear the sound of the elevator doors opening and immediately you tense up in annoyance that someone would come to bother your solitude. You're about to pull your legs out of the water when the intruder speaks.

"I had a feeling I'd find you up here."

You turn your head slightly to see Lafayette walking toward you. You relax a bit. Once he approaches your side, he sits down next to you, and to your surprise, he rolls up his pant legs and dips his feet into the water beside you.

"Found any leads yet?" He asks.

You hum a response and shake your head. "No. You?"

"Nothing on out target, but I'm pretty sure there's a young cardshark in the casino that's been conning wealthy guests out of their money," he says.

This makes you smile a little. "Good for them. I used to do similar work."

"I'm just going to assume you mean working in a casino and not being a con-artist."

“What? We met because I decided to con you; are you not a fan of the business?” You lightly nudge his shoulder with your own as you tease him.

“Starlight, it’s illegal,” he points out.

“Only if you get caught.”

“But you did get caught.”

You purse your lips. “Yes, because I saved your life. You wouldn’t have ever found me if I didn’t have that one moral lapse of judgement.”

“Moral lapse of judgement?”

“Mm, yes,” you hum, “I was quite successful looking out for myself and making a living. It’s a shame I suddenly felt a sense of conviction and decided to save your life.”

Lafayette snorts at this. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you had a change of heart.”

You study his face in the dying light, pushing down the butterflies in your stomach that inevitably appear when he gives you that sideways smile. In this quiet moment, you take the time to admire the golden lines that run from his ears up the side of his forehead, intricately linking and marking him as Franco nobility. You want to memorize them and draw the patterns on your own skin; they’re beautiful. Before he can see that you’ve been staring, you look away, eyes falling to the reflections in the pool. You’re happy to be here now with him.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad, too.”

When the last of the daylight finally leaves the sky, Lafayette stands to his feet and offers you a hand. You accept, pulling yourself up to your full height. It's too cold to stay on the rooftop any longer, so the two of you step into the elevator and press the button for your room number.

The elevator ride is uneventful, and when you get to your floor, the cool evening air greets you once again. The wide halls of your floor have open walls, large columns are wedged between the floor and the ceiling. You and Lafayette lazily walk down the hall, not in a rush to be anywhere. There are a few other guests meandering about in the open air, and that's when you spot the group of New Britannia soldiers making their way down the hall.

Ambros is such a lovely planet, you nearly forget it's currently New Britannia territory in a bordering system. Troops of soldiers police the planet, checking credentials and arresting anyone they suspect have ties to the United Planets of Amerigo.

The troops are making their way down the hall, speaking with guests occasionally and checking their papers. Your heart begins to thrash against the walls of your ribcage as they get nearer. Lafayette bares the markings of Franco nobility, and Francosia has been known to sympathize with Amerigo.

In a split second, you've made up your mind.

Taking Lafayette's hand in yours, you pull him over to a column, adjusting the both of you to where you are placed with your back to the pillar and Lafayette in front of you. You guide his hands to your waist, and while he looks a bit bewildered, he allows your movements. Your hands reach up to cup either side of his face, your fingers deliberately covering up the golden markings on his face. You pull him closer so you are standing cheek to cheek as you hear the soldiers’ footsteps get closer.

“Just go along with it until they’re gone,” you whisper into his ear, smiling against his skin as if you’re saying something scandalous.

His eyes flicker to the soldiers with a look of realization before looking back to you. You press your lips against his cheek, and Lafayette seems to get the message, because the next thing you know, he’s wraps his arms around your waist and pushes you roughly against the stone behind you. Lafayette buries his face in the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses over your shoulder and along your collarbone.

His lips find a sweet spot, and he begins sucking a hickey into your skin, causing a soft moan to escape your lips. With one hand shielding his face from the passing soldiers, your other hand finds its place at the back of his neck. You can’t help but wonder when the Amerigo Army had time to teach its generals this technique.

The soldiers pass you with no problems, muttering something about “lovebirds” under their breath. Lafayette seems to have forgotten all about them, his lips moving up your neck to your cheek. He’s placing a kiss on the corner of your lips when you come back to your senses and lightly tug on the lapels of his suit.

“Love,” you say, and the both of you are both hyper-aware of how desperate and breathy your voice sounds. “Maybe we should take this back to the bedroom.”

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to understand the meaning behind your words. To your surprise, Lafayette picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the room. Once inside, he kicks shut the door behind the two of you and sets you down gently on the bed. Now that it’s just the two of you, Lafayette takes a step back from you. Tension lingers in the air.

“I… I’m sorry about that.” Lafayette’s eyes trail to the ground, obviously embarrassed.

You clear your throat, skin still warm from the moment before. “There’s nothing to apologize for. It was all just part of the cover.”

There is an awkward moment of silence between the two of you. Finally, he nods and moves toward the bathroom.

“Well, we have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yes, we should probably get ready for bed then,” you agree.

Lafayette spares you one last look, attempts a smile, and disappears into the bathroom. You hear the shower being turned on seconds later and take that as your cue to change into your nightgown. You slip into the cool covers of the bed, propping yourself up on the pillows until you find a comfortable place for yourself. While you wait for Lafayette to finish showering, you pull out your tablet and begin reading up on Ambrosian customs; you can never be too informed.

You have no idea of how long it has been, but eventually the shower shuts off. A few moments later the door swings open, and Lafayette steps out.

"About time," you tease. "Thought I'd never get a chance to brush my teeth."

"Next time you can join me. I hate to think you've been sitting out here bored," he responds.

You'd like to take a moment to think about how incredibly flirtatious his comment is, but your mind goes blank when you look up at him. He's fresh out of the shower, hair still wet. Lafayette wears a pair of dark sweatpants that hang too low on his waist. He's not wearing a shirt, and you can't help but stare at his toned skin. His stomach and arms are well-defined, and you catch the golden glint of the small medallion he wears around his neck.

He shrugs on a white t-shirt, and you can tell his body is still wet from the shower by the way the shirt clings to his torso. Never before have you wanted to be a t-shirt so badly in your life. You feel your face heat up, and you are in the process of pulling your gaze away from him, when he looks up and meets your eyes. The way his lips curved up into a smirk left you with a visceral feeling.

“S’there something I can help you with, starlight?” His tone is light and playful.

Your throat is dry, but you manage to get out, “I can think of a few things.”

Lafayette throws his head back and laughs quietly at your response, and you despise the way your heart crashes against its cage at his actions. You slide out of bed and move past him into the bathroom, putting toothpaste on your toothbrush and then shoving the toothbrush into your mouth before you say or do anything more that you’ll regret. Lafayette doesn’t notice the way you are aggressively brushing your teeth, and you don’t notice the way his eyes linger on the neckline of your nightgown and the hem that ends at your upper thigh.

When you finish brushing your teeth, Lafayette is taking a pillow off the bed and moving it to the floor.

“What are you doing?” You ask, knowing perfectly well what his intentions are.

He looks at you bewildered. “I just thought it would be—”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the ground.”

“You’re not making me do anything.”

“Am I really that deplorable to be around?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Lafayette sort of resembles a deer in headlights at this moment. He shakes his head. “Starlight, we shouldn’t. It’s just that…”

“What? What is it?” Your hands have found their place on your hips and you quirk an eyebrow up at him, waiting for a response.

The answer is on the tip of his tongue. He knows why he shouldn’t share the bed with you, but truth is something he can’t say out loud. Lafayette sighs in defeat, picking up the pillow from the ground and tossing it back to the head of the bed.

Content with your victory, you climb under the covers on your side of the bed. Lafayette is still hesitant, but eventually he climbs into bed as well, keeping an absurd amount of distance from you. You consider making a comment about this, but you’ve already argued with him enough about the bed itself, so you bite your tongue. The light beside your bed is the only thing keeping the room from darkness; you turn it off and settle into bed.

“Goodnight.” You say this quietly, the darkness imbuing the room with a sense of peace that you are all too afraid to mess up.

Lafayette must feel this, too, because his response is a whisper as well. “Goodnight, starlight.”

#lafayette x reader #daveed x reader #james madison #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #hamilton imagines #hamilton fic #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #reader insert #one shot #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #spy!reader #spaceau #scifiau

[deja-you]

I looooved starlight 🥺

thank youu so much! i've been having a lot of fun writing it, I have so much content for it! next chapter is going to be posted tomorrow, it's a fun one ;)

#starlight

[deja-you]

are requests open?

yes they are! No idea when I’ll get around to your request, could be hours, could be years, but I always welcome requests 😁

[deja-you]

Starlight

m. de lafayette x reader

chapter three | romeo and alpha

summary: it was never your intent to be anything more than a common thief, but fate -- and a rather attractive general -- have other plans for you.

word count: 1.8k

masterlist | previous | next

In the months following your mission on Hesse, you only got better and better at your job. You learned the ins and outs of Philian nightlife, and you were proud to say you were getting more used to jobs on foreign planets. Mostly, you were getting more used to Lafayette and his division of soldiers. In between missions, you had time to lay low at headquarters, and the soldiers quickly became brothers to you.

As all siblings like to do, the soldiers would do their best to pull pranks and tease you when the occasion occurred. The growing relationship–you might even call it friendship–with the man who you had stolen from just a few months ago didn’t go unseen by the men in Lafayette’s division.

“We’ve compiled the information needed for your mission with Alpha,” Hamilton says, sliding a tablet across Lafayette’s desk for him to read.

Alpha–the squadron had affectionately given you the codename; named for the capital, Alpha Cersei, of the tiny planet you had grown up on. You wore the name with pride.

“Anything important I should know?” Lafayette asks as he begins scrolling through the information.

Hamilton coughs softy and nudges Laurens, who in turn nudges Mulligan. Mulligan shoots the other two men a dirty look, but nonetheless steps forward: “Well, the thing is… We thought it would be best, well… well why don’t you tell him, Hamilton?”

“Me? I put this together!”

“That’s why you should be the one to tell him!”

Lafayette sets the tablet down rather unceremoniously. “Would one of you just spit it out?”

A beat of silence.

“We… well, Hamilton decided that a couple of newlyweds would be a rather convincing cover for this particular mission,” Laurens finally says.

“Oh so now it was my idea, huh?” Hamilton says with irritation. “It was our idea when you thought it was funny.”

Lafayette looks between the three men incredulously before looking back down at the tablet to read further into the details. “You didn’t seriously…”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Hercules says (and he says it in a way that makes Lafayette think that the next thing he’s about to say won’t make him feel better at all), “we made sure to book you and Alpha the honeymoon suite. The reviews are great. Supposed to be very ro-man-tic.”

Hamilton and Laurens fail to hide their snickering, but Lafayette silences the two of them with a sharp look. He rests his forehead in his hand when the information he’s reading on the tablet confirms everything his soldiers told him.

“This is the last time I put any of you in charge of mission details,” Lafayette mutters.

“That’s not fair, we gave you a cool codename,” Laurens points out.

Hamilton’s eyes light up and he nods in agreement. “We did! Do you want to hear it?”

“Do I?”

“You’re Romeo,” Hercules says, and the three of them grin widely like it’s the cleverest thing they’ve ever come up with.

“Romeo?” You push open the door and take a seat in one of the chairs in front of Lafayette’s desk that you’ve grown accustomed to. You size Lafayette up with a look, noting how flustered he seems. “Are you a fan of Shakespeare, or somethin’?”

“Actu—” Laurens starts, but Lafayette silences him with a glare.

“Yes. Love Shakespeare. Laurens, Mulligan, and Hamilton were just about to leave.” His words are clipped and the three soldiers seem to understand him, quickly filing out the door in a fit of laughter, but not before muttering something about leaving the two of you alone together.

You raise an eyebrow at their strange behavior but shrug it off. You turn to face Lafayette and give him a mock salute. “Alright, general. Brief me on my mission.”

“Our mission, actually,” he corrects.

This surprises you. “You’re coming with? Ah, I suppose that makes sense. Hence the codename. Alright, Romeo, brief me on our mission.”

The codename catches him off-guard, but he doesn’t let it show. “There’s a British officer who has happened to obtain some… important information concerning future battle plans. We’ve been told he’s staying at a resort on Ambros while his ship is being repaired.”

“So we’re going to steal the information back before he can get it to New Britannia?”

“Exactly.”

“What’s our cover?”

“There’s more information on here,” Lafayette says, handing you the tablet, “but basically… we’re honeymooners.”

You pause, look up at him with wide eyes, then snort loudly. “You’re going to be my husband?”

He frowns at you. “Is there something funny about that?”

“No, of course not.” Your laughter contradicts your words. “It’s just that… you and I, well… we’d make an interesting pair?”

“Don’t worry, starlight, you’ll only have to put up with me for the length of the mission.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t you think the situation is a little bit humorous?” You flash him a grin and his expression softens a little. “So should I meet you at the loading dock tomorrow morning, then?”

“Yes,” he nodded. Then, remembering something, Lafayette reached down and opened up a drawer, pulling out a little box. He set it on the desk in front of you.

“What’s this?”

“We’re married. You should have a ring.” He shrugs like it was obvious.

Gingerly, you open the box and your mouth falls open when you see the large diamond in front of you. The ring probably costs more than anything you’ve ever owned, and Lafayette is just giving it to you. You look from the ring to him in shock, and he gives you a small nod, encouraging you to try it on. You slide it onto your finger, and it just happens to fit perfectly.

“Wow” is all you manage to say as you admire the way it sparkles on your hand. You grin and your eyes meet Lafayette’s with a mischievous grin. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!”

Lafayette rolls his eyes at your antics, but he can’t help but smile. “Is it too early to file for divorce?”

You wave him off as a thought suddenly occurs to you. “I’ve got to go show the boys my engagement ring! I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early, sweetheart.”

With that, you sweep out of the room and moments later, Lafayette can hear Hamilton, Laurens, and Mulligan all laughing and congratulating you on the fake engagement. Lafayette shakes his head, but he is incapable of wiping the smile off his face.

The flight to Ambros is short, and you and Lafayette spend most of the trip going over your cover in more detail. Lafayette is more focused on the important details: the name and appearance of your target, strategies, etc. You, on the other hand, argue that it’s just as important to come up with a believable background: how long the two of you have been together, where you got married, who your maid of honor was. You’re mostly teasing, but it would be beneficial to the both of you if your stories lined up.

“How did you propose? I think you took me back to the place we first met,” you muse.

“No, no. Not the place we first met. The place I first realized I loved you,” he suggests.

You look up at him, amusement playing on your features. “Oh, that’s much better.”

“Yes, and you had no idea. And I told you that ‘this is where I fell in love with you’ and suddenly I was down on one knee.”

“Our love story really is the sweetest, isn’t it?”

He nods. “The very best.”

You admire the ring on your hand and a thought occurs to you. “Do you just happen to keep wedding rings in your desk for impromptu proposals? Or… is there someone you were going to propose to?”

Lafayette shakes his head. “That was my mother’s ring.”

Your jaw drops when he says this. You’ve heard the stories about Lafayette’s past. Both of his parents died when he was young, leaving him one of the wealthiest Francos on the planet. Maybe he left Francosia because he had no family left there. Maybe it was something else. You don’t ask.

“This is your mother’s ring? I can’t wear this! Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask.

“We’re supposed to be married, starlight. Unless you’ve got a different ring in your pocket you’d prefer, I think our options are rather limited,” he says plainly.

You see the logic in his statement, but you’re still shocked he would trust you with his mother’s ring. “Yes, I understand, it’s just… this is something important to you. You just gave it to me.”

“Should I be worried about giving it to you?” He teases. “Were you planning on stealing it?”

“Well, now I’m not going to,” you say under your breath.

This elicits a chuckle from Lafayette. “My mother would’ve liked you. If anyone was going to wear her ring, I think she would’ve been glad it was you.”

Lafayette stands when the orange Ambrosian sea begins to cast hued light through the window, but his comment isn’t lost on you. For some reason, your chest grows all warm at the thought that his mother would’ve liked you.

“We’re going to be landing soon, we should both get changed,” Lafayette says.

He’s right. You’re wearing plain tan clothes, hardly suitable for the wife of a wealthy businessman. Lafayette is still wearing his white Amerigo Army uniform; he’ll have to change for obvious reasons. You give him a nod, getting up to your personal quarters to get changed.

For this mission, you’ve packed a closet of outfits that you would never have worn back home on Philia. Evening gowns, dresses that are equal parts too short and too sparkly, gold and silver necklaces, shoes you don’t understand how to put on, much less walk in. You decide you’ll wear one of your simpler options: a black gown that hugs your torso before cascading to the ground in waves, a slit exposes your left leg up to your mid-thigh. When you’re finished getting ready, you catch sight of your reflection in your mirror, and a surge of confidence flows through you. You look beautiful.

When you step back onto the bridge, the look on Lafayette’s face reaffirms your thoughts. His lips part as he takes in your appearance, eyes widening slightly before he remembers that it’s not polite to stare. He clears his throat.

“You look… nice,” he says.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you reply. You mean it. Lafayette has changed out of his usual uniform into a fitted suit of all black. A flash of deep red catches your eye when he adjusts his pocket square. He’s wearing the colors of the New Britannia flag; it’s all in the subtle details. You realize that this is the first time you’ve seen him in civilian clothes. You decide you like it.

“Shall we?” Lafayette offers you an arm.

You smile and take it, pulling yourself to his side. “Of course, darling.”

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :)

#lafayette x reader #daveed x reader #marquis de lafayette #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #hamilton imagines #hamilton fic #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #reader insert #slowburn #enemies to friends to lovers #spy!reader #spaceau #scifiau

[deja-you]

you will, won't you?

WWII Era | t. jefferson x reader

summary: you're not always happy with the choices Thomas makes, but he's going to be worth the wait.

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

Holding his hand might’ve been the closest you got to heaven. And you would be okay with that.

You weren’t exactly the girl your parents had hoped you would grow up to be, but in the neighborhood you had moved to, you lived a perfectly respectable life. Music was always kept down to a certain level, and you were careful to return home at a reasonable hour. The most promiscuous thing about you were the shiny red heels you wore, but on this matter, you were obstinate. The shoes stayed.

Late fall hung in the air like a pungent cologne, and the day droned on as if anticipating something wonderfully awful. The weight of the hours hung heavily on your shoulders, and there was no other option than to spend the afternoon lounging on the settee with a glass in one hand and a dwindling cigarette in the other. You barely had the energy to puff on the cigarette every now and then, so when a knock came at the door, you lazily called out, “come in.” The opening of the door and deliberate shuffling of shoes across your wooden floors was familiar to you, so you allowed your eyes to shut and you sank deeper into the plush abyss.

“Sweetheart,” he said (he had started calling you “sweetheart” after you had told him you were fond of that Bing Crosby tune on your third date).

You didn’t respond immediately, and you heard him sigh softly—more so to get your attention than from any actual frustration or exasperation. You felt him lean against the settee.

“Sweetheart, have you really been sitting here all day?” He asked.

“And what if I have?”

“Then it would be a waste of a day, wouldn’t it?”

You opened your eyes just to give him an annoyed look. “It’s a waste of a day anyway. This day… it’s just, well… it’s no good, Thomas.”

“Why’s that?” He took the opportunity to remove the cigarette from your lithe fingers and put it out in the ashtray on the side table. You didn’t seem to notice this at all, your head caught up somewhere else entirely. His one hand replaced the cigarette he had taken from you, and the other ghosted along your cheek and over your hairline.

“Weather’s awful,” you began. Thomas glanced outside and saw clouds beginning to crowd over the sun that had been shining all morning. He had spent most the day outside, and the weather had been lovely up until this moment.

“And there’s just nothing to do. No excitement. No one to see. Nothing but waiting,” you continued.

“Waiting?”

“Yes.”

You laced your fingers through his fingers, pulled them apart, and then found a new and better way to intertwine your hands once more. Thomas waited for you to elaborate, but when you didn’t, he prompted once more: “waiting for what?”

You rolled your eyes like the answer was obvious. “Waiting for you to come home, of course.”

He chuckled. “Was I worth the wait?”

“Always,” you responded. “But I don’t like what you’re wearing.”

“What? This? I thought I looked handsome.”

And he did look handsome in his green-gray jacket and slacks. Thomas always looked put together, but his freshly pressed uniform was something entirely different. You would’ve been absolutely enamored with his new look if it weren’t for what it represented. It might’ve been childish, but you turned to face the wall in order to avoid his eyes.

“I suppose you’ll have to get used to waiting, sweetheart,” he said after a moment. Your response was an incoherent huff. There was a long silence before Thomas was able to stumble over more words. “You… you will, you will, won’t you?”

“I’ll what?”

“You’ll wait?”

Time froze long enough for you to wonder how to duplicate this phenomenon and keep him here another month. Or another week. Or hell, at this point, you’d take another day.

But the clock began ticking again and you still couldn’t believe the question he had asked you. Would you wait? Was that really something he questioned?

“Thomas, I’d wait my whole lifetime for you,” you said easily.

A weight lifted from his chest. “You won’t have to, sweetheart. I won’t be gone long at all.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You know me,” he said coolly. “And I always keep my promises.”

Thomas fell into place beside you, leaning obnoxiously into your side. He took his uniformed cap off his head and pressed it into your hands. He nudged your side and wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Admit it, sweetheart, it’s nice, isn’t it?”

You turned the hat over in your hands. “Maybe.”

“I’d like to see Paris. Might get to.” Thomas said, reclining further into the settee.

The hat was abandoned in your lap. “There are other ways to see Paris.”

He laughed from deep in his diaphragm and it carried past his throat into the air of your modest apartment. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

Thomas pulled you closer to his side and placed a kiss to your forehead. “Yes, sweetheart.”

“Would you stay if I asked you to?”

A pause. He wetted his lips as he considered you for a moment. “I would. Are you asking me to?”

What a horrible person you would be if you said yes. What a horrible person you were for even considering it. “Of course not, no.”

While Roosevelt had told you there was nothing to fear, you couldn’t help but be afraid. Afraid of being without Thomas while he was away. Afraid of losing him to the war. Afraid of trying to figure out what your life would be without him in it, because the truth was, every time you thought of the future, you only thought of him. Always him.

“Come take me downstairs,” he said.

“Already?”

“Already.”

The two of you held hands as you walked him downstairs, and it was in the stairwell that you had your epiphany concerning Thomas’s hands and heaven. He walked on your left side so your right hand was able to grip the bannister in case you decided to demonstrate your all-too-common clumsiness. He was watching the stairs to make sure you didn’t miss a step when he noticed your bright red shoes. Thomas smiled.

When the two of you stepped outside, it was already early evening and the air had turned cold in the city. A neighbor was playing loud music through their open window and streetlights were beginning to be turned on. Your grip tightened on Thomas’s hand when a thought occurred to you.

“What if I don’t even recognize you when you return?”

Thomas shook his head and considered you with amusement. He leaned forward, nose brushing against your nose when he replied. “Then I’ll find you.”

“But what if you don’t recognize me?” The idea was unlikely, you understood that, but it didn’t stop you from asking.

He nudged your feet lightly with his. “I couldn’t possibly miss you in these shoes.”

You felt your face warm up, and you nodded in agreement. Thomas wrapped his free hand around your waist, his other hand still clutching yours as he held your joined hands up in the air.

“Dance with me, sweetheart.”

You were hesitant. “I’m no good at dancing.”

“It’s a good thing I’m giving you time to learn,” he grinned, taking a step forward and then a step back. Step forward, step back, step left, step right. “When I get back, we’re going dancing every night.”

Laughter filled the street and you faintly recognized it as your own as Thomas led you in circles around the sidewalk. Your steps faltered when you adjusted your arms to wrap around his shoulders, pulling his face closer to your own. Guided by your movements, Thomas fit his lips to yours like they were the final piece to a convoluted puzzle. Two became one and a new decade had begun.

And so the evening danced into twilight amidst the dwindling notes of the immortal phonograph.

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson #hamilton an american musical #hamilton #lafayette x reader #lafayette imagine #daveed diggs smut #daveed diggs x reader #WW2 AU #waiting #lots of waiting #red shoes and other things that get worn out #idk what to do with tags anymore #soldier!thomas jefferson

[deja-you]

y’all I can’t tell you how excited I am for the rest of this series. Go check it out if you haven’t yet !!

Battle Royale

(1) Fresh bread, French Prince

G.Lafayette : Hamilton the musical

Sometimes when you work on a project, there are moments when you need to take a break and work on something else. That’s really the case with In The Night, I have all these ideas but sometimes I feel confined to ITN (I literally have not started Chapter 3 when this is posted). And thus this fic was born. I hope you enjoy! 

Y/N and Lafayette’s POV 

Bridgerton inspired AU (watching the Bridgerton series would probably help in understanding ideas of ‘courting’ and finding a suitors) 

Odd social structure (dukes are essentially owners of land which was popularized in London, Washington is considered a president, and Lafayette is now a prince!) 

not my cover image 😟

Word count: 4k

Literally the biggest thanks to @deja-you for proofreading and some great feedback, ILY 🧎‍♀️

Keep reading

[deja-you]

Starlight

m. de lafayette x reader

chapter two | spies and white lies

summary: it was never your intent to be anything more than a common thief, but fate -- and a rather attractive general -- have other plans for you.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist | previous | next

“What are we at now? Twenty argenti?” You grin and lean forward, elbows resting on the table. “Another round, Mulligan?”

The tailor gives you a look that only makes your smile widen. “I don’t know if I have anything left to wager.”

“Mulligan, your deployment is about to head out, you should get down to the loading dock.”

The look of relief on Mulligan’s face is nearly comical when Hamilton interrupts the next game you are setting up. Mulligan mutters a half-hearted apology, you wish him luck, and then he is all too eager to leave.

Hamilton places a hand on your shoulder and points you in the direction of Lafayette’s office. “The general would like a word with you.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Aren’t you always?”

“Fair point. Wish me luck, Lex,” you mutter, making your way into the lion’s den.

You knock twice on the door, and without waiting for a reply, you push open the door and let yourself into Lafayette’s office. Dim, warm light greets you – a stark contrast to the harsh white lighting found in most buildings on Philia. Lafayette sits at his desk, thumbing through pages and pages of paperwork. The navy cape usually worn around his shoulders is draped over the back of his chair, and he absently scratches his beard as he continues to read the papers in front of him.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask.

He nods toward the empty chairs in front of his desk. “Yes, have a seat.”

You sit down across from him and wait for him to inform you as to why you’ve been called into his office. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before Lafayette finally puts down his paperwork and leans back in his chair.

He appraises you silently, then finally: “Hamilton says you’re cleaning my men out of their money.”

“I want you to know,” you say quickly, “that my actions have been completely legal. It’s not my fault you never taught your men how to gamble.”

“How much did Mulligan lose today?” He asks.

“Twenty.”

“You don’t feel bad about taking money from the poor guy?”

“It’s Mulligan.” The both of you share a laugh. “Did you call me in here to tell me to stop taking your soldiers’ money?”

“Not at all, feel free to continue scamming them out of their money,” he says with a shrug. “As long as you keep supplying me with intel on the New British battle plans, you can do whatever you want with your off hours.”

“I take it you’ve got a new mission for me?”

“Perceptive. This is why I hired you.”

“I thought you hired me because I’m expendable,” you say bluntly.

He stiffens at your comment and slowly shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. You’re incredibly good at what you do, and I think you’re the perfect person for this job.”

Lafayette hands you a tablet with the information for your next mission. This one is a bit different than the previous jobs he had you run. It had been your job to lay low at shady bars around Philia that had been known as sympathizers of the New British crown and report back any information you had overheard. On occasion, you had been sent to spy on wealthy sympathizers at dinner parties, galas, races, etc. All these events took place on Philia or neighboring planets. Looking down at the tablet, your eyes widened a little at the name of your next location.

“You’re sending me to Hesse?” You say in surprise.

“It would be…” he pauses and thinks through his words. “It’s rather vital we send someone to observe negotiations between the leaders of Hesse and New Britannia. We have reason to believe they’re discussing more than just a renewal of the neutrality act.”

“I see. It’s just that… Hesse is quite far. It’s not even part of the United Planets of Amerigo,” you say. Lafayette knows this. Hesse is a part of a large federation of planets that has remained neutral during the war between Amerigo and New Britannia. It’s out of Lafayette’s jurisdiction, if anything happened to you there…

“You don’t have to go,” he says quickly. “You can say no. If you don’t think you can—”

“You said this was vital, yes?” You say. “Who else would you send?”

Lafayette is silent while he tries to come up with another name. There isn’t anyone else they can send; his silence tells you.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

He eyes you warily. “This is a risky idea. Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it. We can find another way. You shouldn’t go.”

“General,” you say firmly, “I’m going to Hesse. You said yourself that I’m the perfect person for this job; I already speak Alemanni.”

“You speak Alemanni?”

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, general. Glad I’m still full of surprises.” You scan the information on the tablet and stand from your chair. “Guess I should be going, then. I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

“Our contact will be limited while you’re on Hesse, but if you run into the slightest bit of danger, press this button here on your bracelet and we’ll fly in to pick you up immediately.”

Lafayette hands you the bracelet in question, and you give him a nod before sliding it onto your wrist. You’re a few minutes out from the capital city, and the general is running through any last-minute details with you before he drops you off and the ship heads back into orbit around Hesse.

“Remember, this is a reconnaissance mission. You are not to engage in any combat whatsoever. Get in, get information, get out. Do you understand?” He asks.

Lafayette misses it when you roll your eyes, which is probably for the best. “I got it, general.”

He lands the ship, opens the cargo door, and turns his chair to face you. “One more thing.”

You groan. “What could you have possibly forgotten to say?”

Lafayette crosses his hands over his chest, taking one more good look at you. “Be safe out there.”

You’re a little shocked by his sudden switch to a softer tone, and it must show. You stare at him awkwardly for a minute before giving a small nod, grabbing your pack, and stepping out of the ship. Behind you, the ship begins to depart. You don’t turn back to watch it leave. You are now on a mission.

Hesse is vastly different from Philia. Where Philia has a temperate, warm climate, Hesse is considerably colder. Fortunately, it’s not snowing when you arrive, but the chilling winds are so harsh you don’t think it would make a difference. Traffic on the streets in Hesse is minimal, and you attribute this to the less than desirable weather. You’re not going to get any information from the inanimate light posts or street signs, so you find what looks like a promising tavern and head inside.

The tavern contrasts the icy Hesse environment; inside is warm and bright, backed with patrons from wall to wall and buzzing with conversation. As you make your way to the bar, you pick up on bits and pieces of the conversations happening around you. You’re in your element.

“You have to stop worrying so much. She’s a smart girl, she would call you if she needed any help.”

It’s been a few cycles since Lafayette dropped you off on Hesse. He didn’t expect you to call for him immediately, but he can’t stop himself from worrying a bit when he doesn’t hear from you for a few days. Lafayette is on a spaceship by himself with nothing better to do except work through piles of paperwork and think up every scenario that could go wrong for you on Hesse. If anything happens to you, he will be to blame.

In his defense, Lafayette had never wanted to send you to Hesse in the first place. It had been a rather forceful suggestion from General Washington after the head of the army had seen your success rates. Of course it made sense that you would be the one to take on this mission, but that didn’t make Lafayette feel any better about it. He voices these concerns in a call to Hamilton while he orbits endlessly around the planet.

“I’m serious, Lafayette,” Hamilton says, beginning to sound a little exasperated. “There’s nothing you can do at this point. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you panicking over this anyway.”

“Was this a huge mistake?” Lafayette asks, effectively ignoring all of Hamilton’s previous statements.

“No, it wasn’t. We need information on these treaties, I have no doubt New Britannia has something up their sleeves. If anyone’s going to figure it out, it’s her. You didn’t have a choice.”

It must be the eleventh or twelfth time Hamilton has repeated these sentiments on this call alone. Lafayette decides there’s no point in continuing on this line of conversation, so he surrenders for the time being.

“You’re right,” he says. “No point in worrying. So, have I missed anything while I’ve been gone?”

“Not much. Mulligan’s sent some intel back to us from his latest mission, nothing big yet. Oh, Laurens arrived back yesterday. A few bruises and a broken finger or two, but other than that, he seems to be fine.” Hamilton is happy enough with the subject change.

“He made it back in one piece? Well, how about that. The way he fights, you’d think he’s got a death wish.”

On the other line, Hamilton releases a bark of laughter. “You’d think so. Most men in your battalion are rather careless when it comes to safety. You think you had a hand in teaching ‘em that?”

“Me? I hardly think—”

He pauses mid-sentence when the light on his computer begins flashing a few times and a succession of beeps start sounding. Whatever he was about to say is lost at his lips when he stares at the blinking light. Lafayette has been waiting for this.

“I have to go,” he says to Hamilton, “it’s her.”

Lafayette doesn’t offer more of a goodbye, not that he needs to, and hangs up the call with Hamilton. Immediately he kicks into gear, sliding into the pilot’s seat and speeding toward the surface of Hesse in the direction being sent to the ship from your bracelet.

He’s surprised to find your tracking signal coming from a few miles outside of the capital, but he’s even more surprised when he finds the position you’re in. Amidst a forest of snow-covered trees, a fortress peaks out over the treetop with Gothic towers and intimidating sculptures. Along the top of one set of battlement walls, a fight has broken out and blasts of light are being shot from one side to the other. As Lafayette gets closer, he sees that you are on one side of this battle, doing your best to fend off a squadron of joint Hesse-New Britannia troops. It could be going better for you; you’re crouched behind a heavy shield, leaning out now and then to fire a blast at the soldiers who are gaining ground second by second.

Lafayette can’t be sure from this distance, but when you see the ship approaching, he swears he sees a grin spread across your features. Then, in a move that surprises both Lafayette and the soldiers, you stand from your position, and with a few steps, you’ve flung yourself off the castle walls. Lafayette curses under his breath, racing forward in the ship, opening the bay doors, and turning the ship sideways to catch you while you plummet from the air. Somewhere behind him in the ship, he hears a loud thud and is relieved to know you’ve made it onboard.

The soldiers recover from their shock and begin targeting the spaceship instead. Lafayette is able to avoid any significant damage to the ship by weaving through the trees, but it isn’t an easy task. When the blasts begin to fade and the fortress is far enough behind, the spaceship shoots up into the air, racing out of Hesse airspace. Lafayette navigates the ship for a bit, but once he feels they’re safe, he switches the ship into autopilot. He has a spy to debrief.

Lafayette finds you in the cargo bay, looking a little worse for wear. “Are you alright? Injured?”

You look up at him and grin. “Fantastic.”

After a quick observation, Lafayette concludes that “fantastic” would not be the word he used to describe your current state. Your hair is a mess, your face is covered with dirt and cuts, and you are cradling your wrist that looks bent out of shape, the skin around it already turning into a purple-blue color. He raises an eyebrow.

“Alright, I suppose I’ve been in better shape,” you say casually.

Lafayette steps closer, gently pulling your arm to him so he can inspect the injury. His  eyes darken as they move from your wrist to your eyes, and you’re suddenly aware of the proximity between the two of you.

“Who did this?” His voice is quiet, but the low growl in the back of his throat sends chills down your spine.

Your uninjured hand takes the arm that is holding you, and his grip on your arm softens. “No one. I think I might’ve broken my wrist on landing.”

His eyes lower and he releases you. Suddenly aware of your closeness, he takes a step back.

“You think?” He scoffs, walking over to the wall and opening up the first aid kit. You’re sitting on the ground, back pressed up against a crate, and Lafayette kneels beside you and begins to tend to your wound. “Tell me about the mission while I patch you up.”

“I think it went rather well. I found a job as a translator my first day on the planet.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Turns out there’s a lack of Alemanni-English speakers on Hesse, and the New Britannia diplomats were in need of a translator. Right place, right time, I suppose.

Anyway, I was brought to this Hessian duke’s castle where the negotiations were being made. The first few days of negotiations gave me nothing to report on; just usual diplomatic pleasantries and treaty renewals as had been stated by New Britannia. However, last night negotiations took a different turn.

The New Britannia ambassador told the duke that the New British army was in need of troops, and they were willing to pay large sums. They’re hiring Hessian soldiers as mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries? I thought Hesse wanted to remain neutral in this war,” Lafayette frowned, placing a bandage over one of your larger cuts.

You nod in agreement, “That’s what I thought, too. Apparently, many of the Hessian princes are in a lot of debt – they need the money and the Brits backed them into a corner. I was going to call for you to pick me up last night, but I thought I could dig up some more information.”

“And did you?”

“Of course I did, general,” you grin again and pat the leather bound journal next to you; Lafayette hadn’t even noticed it before. “Snuck into the ambassador’s office this morning and found this. Looked like it had some information on upcoming battle strategies, but I didn’t have much time to read through it, I was caught by one of the ambassador’s guards. Barely made it out, guess I was lucky you were there when I needed you, huh?”

“Lucky only begins to describe it. You shouldn’t have put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“I took care of myself, didn’t I? Besides, I think General Washington will find this information rather helpful.”

Lafayette can’t help but smile when you hand him the journal. He flips through a few pages, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise. This is more information than he had hoped to get out of this mission. Lafayette sets the journal down beside him, pulling a sling out from the first aid kit and gently lifting your arm into the fabric.

“I’ll make sure you receive proper medical attention once we get back to Philia, but this should do the job for now.” Lafayette tucks the journal under his arm and stands to his feet. “I need to make a call to the generals to update them on the information you’ve just shared with me.”

“Of course.”

“Get some rest, you look like you need it.” He begins to walk in the direction of his personal quarters but pauses before he leaves the room. “Oh, and starlight?”

You look up at him.

“Good work.”

Once Lafayette leaves the room, you can’t stop the proud smile that appears on your lips. Still, Lafayette is right about one thing: you need some rest. With whatever energy that is remaining, you pull yourself to your feet and begin to search for somewhere more comfortable to sleep. You were provided with your own quarters on the ship, but the room is small, windowless, and cold. You doubt you could get any rest there. It’s been a long couple of days, so you give yourself the authority to wander the ship in search of something comforting. You’re careful to avoid the direction of Lafayette’s personal quarters, even though that’s where your heart is being pulled toward.

Somewhere in between the kitchen and the bridge, you find a large observation room, and it takes your breath away. A large window gives you a view of space that leaves you in awe. Stars and planets swirl past you in a mixture of colors and brightness as the ship races back to the familiarity of Philia. The vastness of space should be intimidating, but for some reason, you feel safe. There is a world of opportunities open to you, and somehow you’ve managed to end up on this little spacecraft drifting through space and time. There is nowhere you’d rather be.

The observation deck is by no means extravagant or luxurious, the metal walls have sustained a fair amount of scrapes, a stale odor hangs in the air. Somehow, it feels more like home than anywhere else on the ship. You curl up on one of the old, stiff couches pushed against the back wall. As stars pass by, you count them. One, two… thirty-eight, thirty-nine… It’s somewhere between eighty-two and eighty-seven that you finally lose count and your heavy eyelids finally succumb to sleep.

Hours later, or maybe it’s days – you can’t really tell the passage of time in space – you begin to stir. When you open your eyes, the planets and stars outside the observation window are passing by slower, and in front of you, you can see the brown and green landscape of Philia. You pull your blanket around yourself tighter and enjoy the moment of peace. Who knows when you’ll have a chance to relax once you’re back on Philia, most likely you’ll be given another mission.  

It’s not that you don’t enjoy your job; it’s the best job you’ve had in decades. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but you like doing work that feels important, work that makes you feel like you’re making a difference. The paycheck is a nice benefit as well. Still, the life of a spy for the United Planets of Amerigo isn’t exactly relaxing. Taking on new identities each week and the risks that came along with it was exciting, but incredibly stressful. Maybe one day when the war ended you would settle down. Picket fence and an army of kids might be too much to ask, but you could see yourself moving to a quieter planet and building a home for yourself… and maybe someone else. You gazed out the window, looking at all the planets and picking which one you would one day grow old on.

“Great view, isn’t it?”

Your eyes flick from the window to where Lafayette stands in the doorway. He wears his white uniform as always, watching you carefully, the gold in his dark eyes bright underneath the starlight. He crosses his arms over his chest and casually leans against the doorframe.

“I come here when I need to clear my head. It puts things in perspective, gives me a sense of…”

“…peace,” you finish for him.

Lafayette stares out the window for a moment, nods and turns back to you. “Yes, peace.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, Lafayette watches the way the light dances over your skin and can’t help but admire the artwork. You stare back into his eyes until you feel that he’s on the verge of staring right into your soul. You’ve never been completely open with someone before, and you’re not ready to be now, so you look away. The connection is broken, and he takes a step back, looking anywhere but at you.

“I just came to let you know that we’ll be landing in Philia soon,” he says, turning to leave.

“Wait,” you shrug the warmth off your shoulders, “I believe this belongs to you.”

It had taken you a moment in your sleepy consciousness to remember that you had no blanket when you had fallen asleep. At some point, Lafayette must have found you and covered your sleeping body with his navy cape. Always the gentleman. You fold up the fabric in your arms, already missing its warmth, and cross the room to return it to its owner.

“Thank you,” he says politely.

Your hands briefly touch when you hand him the cape, and the both of you linger for a moment too long. The moment is over when you pull your hands away, and the both of you silently agree not to address it.

#lafayette x reader #daveed x reader #marquis de lafayette #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #hamilton #hamilton x reader #reader insert #slowburn #enemies to friends to lovers #spy!reader #spaceau #scifiau

[deja-you]

okay this series has been done for a long time, but the masterlist for it is all updated (yay!) so I thought I’d reblog it.

The RMS Titanic (and other ships that pass in the night)

t. jefferson x reader

Masterlist 

summary: you know your relationship with Thomas will only be a fleeting memory, but you allow your lives to collide nonetheless.

a/n: there are a few things you should know. this isn’t an actual Titanic au, there is no literal ship. the title will make more sense later. second, this story is going to be broken up into short 500-1000 word pieces so it’s more readable. that’s about it. let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist :) 

complete works masterlist

The Playlist

Part One | The Contemplation of Oxygen and Uniform

Part Two | The Bathroom Rendez-vous

Part Three | The Poet’s Pizza

Part Four | The Music on the Way Down

Part Five | The Treaty of Versailles

Part Six | The Librarian’s Cognizance

Part Seven | The Maelstrom and Maybes

Part Eight | The Divine Romantic Comedy

Part Nine | The Collision of Heaven and Earth

Part Ten | The Secrets that Didn’t Go Down with the Ship

Part Eleven | The Ways We Stay

Part Twelve | The Lighthouse

[deja-you]

Hey! Could you do a Drabble where like Thomas cheats on the reader and (kinda like Eliza) y/n takes him back but things just aren’t quite the way they were and it’s bothering both of them

yep! this one is 967 words

Your presence floods the room.

When the two of you were younger and newer to the whole idea of love and forever, you would flood the room with light. Golden, shimmering light that warmed the room from the inside out. He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You still fill the room with your presence; up to its full capacity. Now it's a flood.

You flood the apartment, the water damage seeping into the ground. Contractors say the damage is irreparable. But maybe it's not so.

Thomas can't remember the last time you've said his name. He misses the way it sounds on your tongue, but he understands this isn't something he deserves.

The bed is cold and empty while two people lay next to each other.

He reaches his hand toward you before pulling back. He knows better. Thomas misses you, but reaching out is what he wants, not you. He's made enough selfish decisions lately to last him a lifetime. He's afraid they will last him a lifetime.

If he's being honest, sometimes he thinks his life would be better if he had never told you. It was one mistake. One awful, unforgiving mistake that had destroyed everything good in his life. If Thomas had kept his mouth shut, everything could've remained unimpaired and beautiful. But nothing good can grow out of lies, and the very least you deserved was the truth.

That didn't make the admission any easier. The way you looked away from him when he had told you about her. If you were angry with him, if you had yelled or thrown something, he would've understood. Thomas, to some degree, had suspected this behavior. Maybe that's partly why it hurts more when you speak to him softly.

You are gentle to him in a way he doesn't deserve. It's not forgiveness, and it breaks his heart even further when he realizes it's shame. On your part. Somehow his actions have made you feel less than adequate, and this hurts him the most.

“Twenty years.” He remembers you saying after his confession. “I have loved you for twenty years.”

Your voice was quiet when you spoke, and he thinks it was so he wouldn’t be able to hear all the cracks and factures in your words.

“I have loved you and only you. I only know how to love you. I only know how to love you. Do you know that? I so desperately want to hate you for this!”

And Thomas responded with something like: “you deserve to hate me.”

“I know that. But I can’t. I can only love you, which leaves me to carry the blame of your infidelity myself. What could I have done to make you love me more?”

Thomas was stunned and shocked into silence.

You can’t help your voice from breaking on your next words. “You are the only person I will ever love. Why am I not enough for you?”

Those words haunt Thomas when he closes his eyes. And when he wakes up. And when he goes to work. And when he takes a shower. And when he makes dinner. There is no point in his life where those words don’t ring in the back of his mind like chains anchoring him to his crimes. Why am I not enough for you?

The two of you are lying in bed now, the both of you being as still as possible, hoping your presence doesn’t take up too much space. After a brief lapse into weakness, you have shut off your emotions, becoming a shell of the person you once were. Thomas misses your laugh and your anger and your raised eyebrows when he does something stupid and the way you used to kiss him because it brought you an endless amount of joy. There is nothing left, save for the pain and sorrow he has inflicted upon you.

Nights like these, the two of you can hear the entire city of New York. On the street below, a group of young girls climb into a taxi for a wild night out. In the apartment across the way, a musician is practicing for opening night at the city orchestra. Across the hall, a single mother tries to rock her baby to sleep while she talks to her sister on the phone. Brown-blue water washing against the riverbank a few blocks down.

There is so much going on outside, it reminds Thomas that there is more than just this moment lying next to you. There was the day he had first met you, sitting across from you in elementary and sharing crayons. There was your wedding day, when Thomas swore you were some sort of ethereal being. There was the day after he cheated on you, waking up with a pool of regret in his stomach. There were all these past moments in time that existed out of his reach, and there was every future moment he could spend loving you.

All these future moments with you could only exist if Thomas made a decision now. Gathering any remaining courage, he reaches out across the sheets that had become a vast ocean in the void between the two of you. You tense at the feeling of his fingers on your skin, but after a long moment, you allow yourself to sink into his embrace.

Thomas feels a warmth surge in his chest at your silent acceptance, and delicately – because this might all fall apart if he isn’t careful – he pulls you closer to him. He presses his lips against your back like they could take away the pain his actions had inflicted. It’s not okay, and nothing will ever be the same, but the both of you are learning to love each other in new ways.

#Kitty's drabbles #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #x reader #reader insert #hamilton fanfic #angst #it's sort of hopeful at the end tho #yeah this kind of just happened #wasn't planning on writing anything but then it just showed up #and here we are

[deja-you]

Starlight

m. de lafayette x reader

chapter one | Silver and Gold

summary: it was never your intent to be anything more than a common thief, but fate -- and a rather attractive general -- have other plans for you. 

word count: 2k

masterlist | next

Your life on Philia was one of luxury. Perhaps an outsider wouldn’t describe it that way: you never knew where your next meal would come from, and your home never stayed in one spot for too long. Yet the independence afforded to you was of greater value to you than any comfort security could have given you. Just because you made your living by… unconventional methods didn’t mean it was any less legitimate than that of most businesses on Philia.

Thief, bandit, swindler; you preferred “moonlighter,” it had a nice ring to it. Anyhow, it didn’t matter what anyone called you – you weren’t anymore a criminal than the congressman that had been elected to represent the United Planets of Amerigo. You reminded yourself of this fact whenever that aching sense of guilt began to creep up on you. While your particular skillset was generally described as illegal, you were too good at what you did to stop. Besides, you only ever stole from the people who could afford it, so how wrong could your actions really be?

The life of a thief isn’t nearly as glamorous as it’s made out to be. On a day like this one, you’re running errands like any other Philian. It’s been a good week for you; you’ve traded in a few stolen items for a few pieces of argentum. With the week’s funds, you decide it’s time to buy new curtains for your current living quarters – perhaps you’ll splurge on some fresh produce for dinner.

It’s in the open-aired marketplace that you spot your target. You weren’t even looking for a target today, but he manages to catch your eye. He stands out in his white officer’s uniform against the sea of brown and green common clothes, and golden lines along the side of his face mark him as Franco nobility. Even if he wasn’t literally glowing in the low Philian sunlight, his straight posture and height made him stand out like a fish on a waterless planet.

Again, you hadn’t planned on running a job today, but when he showed up in the marketplace like that, you didn’t have a choice. After tailing the man for a few blocks, you set your plan in motion. A con you’ve pulled off nearly a dozen times, and it has yet to fail you.

The Franco is minding his business in the street, and you, a careless young girl who isn’t being mindful of where she’s going, crashes into him with the grace and composure of an on-fire spaceship. He’s quick to apologize, a fact that you note, the both of you knowing you are the one at fault here. You mention this, apologizing to him profusely for your mindlessness. Eyes trained low to the ground – it’s safer this way – you fix the invisible wrinkles you have caused to his suit jacket. Another hasty apology on your part, and you slip away from him, escaping back into the bustling crowds of the marketplace. You think this will be the last time you see him.

You’ve long forgotten about the curtains and produce you had set out to buy. When you are safely back in the confides of your shabby apartment, you pull your treasure out from your pocket. A golden medallion with a lovely eagle insignia emblazoned onto the metal. Tapping it with your nails, you come to the conclusion that not only is this real, but it’s worth a fortune. The medallion would cover months – maybe a year’s worth of expenses. You study the medallion for a moment longer before placing the chain around your neck and tucking it into your clothes. You’ll save it for a rainy day.

The next time you see the Franco, there is an explosion on your street.

It’s a few weeks after that day in the marketplace, maybe a month. On this particular morning, you are trying to enjoy your breakfast in peace. Halfway through a papaya, you’re reminded of the war that’s been ravaging entire systems. Beneath your feet, the ground shakes and you hear an explosion outside your window. When you go to see what the commotion is, you find a building down the block is set on fire, and forces in dark blue and red are firing at each other from either side of the street.

Survival instincts kick in: you need to get out of there. Making it to the ground floor, you scan your surroundings for a safe route of escape. You stay low as you plan to creep behind a platoon of blue suited soldiers – the Amerigo Army is supposed to keep you safe, right? You’re still a citizen of the United Planets, although not exactly a model citizen. In a rather humbling position, you’re crawling on your forearms and knees behind the battle lines. It’s from this position that you catch sight of a flash of red in a building. A New Britain soldier has taken his place in an upper-level window, a sniper propped up in the windowsill. You know you should continue crawling to safety, but your curiosity gets the best of you. Your eyes follow the sniper scope to its target: a commanding officer in white.

After the initial shock, you try yelling out a warning to the officer. He doesn’t hear you; he’s too busy yelling out orders to his own men. You try calling out to him again, but when he doesn’t respond, you stumble to your feet and launch yourself into a decision you’re already beginning to regret. Climbing up the makeshift ramparts the soldiers had created, you reach the officer’s side. You tug at his arm, and he just looks at you in confusion. With a glance to the sniper in the window, you realize your timeframe for explanation has run out. Gaining leverage, you take a step up on the rampart, and with both your hands solidly on the officer’s shoulders, you pull him beneath the sniper’s line of vision.

A bright flash and you hear the loud vsssshhh of the sniper’s blast ripping through the air.

In the chaos, a soldier is able to shoot down the sniper from his vantage point and a few more bombs are set off, but you hardly process any of this. Your ears ring and you vaguely process the officer in white helping you down from the rampart. He’s saying words to you and you’re trying your best to focus on his lips to make out the words he’s saying to you – but you’re failing miserably. You narrow your eyes and are finally able to process what he’s saying.

“You’ve been shot,” he yells over all the noise.

You stare at him blankly and feel your grip on his forearms begin to weaken. Your eyesight is fading. The last thing you see are autumnal brown eyes outlined in rings of golden light widening in concern before everything fades to black.

The first thing you are aware of, is that you are not at home.

The bed beneath you is far too comfortable to be your own, and the air is much too easy to breathe, missing that polluted quality altogether that you had grown accustomed to. You don’t open your eyes yet because you are still feeling out your surroundings before you completely rejoin the conscious world. Your fingers bunch up handfuls of blanket and you conclude the fabric is nice quality; you must be somewhere in the wealthier districts of Philia. How or why you’re here, you’re not sure.

“I know you’re awake,” a voice says from a few feet away.

Your muscles tense slightly before you force your body to relax. “How do you know that?”

“When you’re really asleep, you snore. Loudly.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

You release an annoyed sigh and opened your eyes slowly, still adjusting to the light. Taking a look around your surroundings, you concluded that you were in a hospital room of some sort. On a chair beside your bed sat the Franco in his officer’s white, and the sight of him brought memories flooding back to you. The explosions, the sniper, getting shot…

Suddenly you’re aware of the bandages wrapped tightly around your torso and the lingering pain you can feel on your side makes sense. You try to move your hand to inspect the wound, but that’s when you realize one of your wrists has been cuffed to the side of the hospital bed. Your eyes shift toward the Franco and you raise an eyebrow. He shrugs.

“What do you expect? You’re a criminal wanted on an assortment of different charges,” he says casually.

You narrow your eyes. “Says who?”

He chuckles softly, and instead of offering a straightforward answer to your question, he places a thick file on the bedside table with your name printed on it in inky letters. You don’t have to look through the file to know what it says about you.

“Oh. I see,” you mumble.

You allow your hands to fall into your lap – your left hand slightly restricted due to the handcuff, and you avoid looking at the Franco. You can feel his gaze on you, and you can only imagine what he’s thinking right now. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You saved my life.”

Looking up at him quizzically, you blurt out, “maybe I wouldn’t have if I had known I would end up in this situation.”

He presses on. “Why? You could’ve been killed.”

“I’m a criminal,” you explain, “I’m not heartless.”

The two of you fall back into a silence as he ponders over your words. You take this time to begin accepting your fate. There’s no way you can escape from this hospital bed and this officer in the condition you’re in. They’ve caught you this time; they really—

“I have a proposition for you,” the officer says.

This isn’t what you were expecting, but he’s piqued your interest. “What kind of proposition?”

“A job offer,” he says plainly. “Amerigo could use someone with your… skillset.”

You snort. “The army needs a thief?”

He twitches slightly at your words. “No, not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“It’s classified until you agree.”

“You expect me to agree to a job without knowing anything about it?”

“I’m giving you an option. If you’re not interested, there’s always a very nice cell with your name on it,” the officer said, sending you an amused grin.

You scowl at him, but after reevaluating the state that you were currently in, the Franco’s offer seemed rather appealing to you. Maybe you would regret it later, but this seemed like your only out at the time.

“Okay, fine. I’ll take the job,” you relent.

The officer hums his approval and stands to his feet. “Lovely. I’ll have the information sent to you by tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind relocating. I think you’ll find the housing we provide for you will be more… adequate than your previous lodgings.”

He turns to the door but you stop him. “Wait. Apparently you know everything about me, but I don’t even know your name.”

A smile tugs at his lips and he walks back over to your bedside. “Lafayette. General Lafayette.”

You sit frozen in place as his hands reach forward to trace the golden chain along your neck, your skin feeling like it had been burned from the places where his fingertips met your collarbone. Gently, he lifts the medallion off of your neck and places it around his own.

“I believe this belongs to me,” he says softly, “I’ll see you around, starlight.”

#lafayette x reader #x reader #marquis de lafayette #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #hamilton #hamilton x reader #reader insert #slowburn #enemies to friends to lovers #spy!reader #spaceau #scifiau #trying something new #kind of giving the reader more personality than i have before #is the hamilton fandom kind of dead? #i don't even know how to write for other fandoms at this point #it's like 2 am and i'm typing this out #idk what i'm doing rn but it's all good #regardless of fandom i think the relationship dynamic in this is going to be good #i don't really know #we're all just filling time while we wait for the inevitable #as long as we're doing what we love #it can't be a waste of time

[deja-you]

The RMS Titanic (and other ships that pass in the night)

t. jefferson x reader

part twelve | the lighthouse

summary: you know your relationship with Thomas will only be a fleeting memory, but you allow your lives to collide nonetheless.

word count: 1.3k

masterlist | series masterlist | previous 

At some point in the night, Thomas can no longer sleep.

His head is full with feeling and his heart is full of thoughts; he is a knotted mess. Thinking that getting up and moving around will solve his problems, he untangles his limbs from yours – not that it’s ever been an easy thing to do.

Thomas escapes to the balcony, where he has spent many hours pondering his father’s fate. This time he wonders what you think of it. Was this secret more than you had expected? Was it less? Had you somehow known all along? You couldn’t have, because that look of grief in your eyes is something altogether new.

He believes that you think some part of him died on the sailboat. Logically, this would be an apt conclusion; any child would be at a loss seeing their parent die. This isn’t the case for Thomas. He did not die with his father.

Thomas is pressing the glass of clear liquid to his lips when he hears the balcony doors creak open. You say his name softly, but he doesn’t respond. You move to cover his hands with your own, in the same way Thomas had covered his father’s casket with loose soil. This is finally too much for Thomas, he can’t stand the thought of you mourning him when he is still in your arms.

In a very Thomas-fashion, he expresses his thoughts in stolen lines of poetry. “Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I do not sleep.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder and take the glass out of his hand.

“I’m not my father,” he tells you.

“I know,” you say softly. You raise the glass to your lips, surprised when the drink doesn’t burn like Gin. It’s water. “You’re really nothing like him.”

He nods and takes the glass from your hand to set it aside so that both your hands are free to wrap around his torso.

“Come back to bed,” you sigh into the fabric of his shirt. “I miss your warmth.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he places a kiss to your forehead. “Alright. Back to bed.”

The next morning, it’s Thomas who finds himself missing your warmth.

The spot beside him is empty and cold, like there had been no one there at all. He pulls himself out of bed and finds that he is only further injured by the lack of you in the hallway or the study or the kitchen or the balcony. Gone, without so much as a goodbye.

He should really have known better than this. How could you stay after everything he had admitted to you? He should count himself lucky to even have had you for the evening; that was a blessing in itself. Thomas’s eyes begin to sting, and he thinks who cares if I cry now? I’m alone anyway.

Then the door creaks open and you stumble into the room with a large paper bag in your arms. You chirp out a cheery “good morning” in Thomas’s direction and set the bag down on the counter. When you really look at Thomas, you notice the surprise written in his lips and the pools of water that had been gathering in his eyes. Realizing the assumption he must have made, you shake your head and chuckle softly.

“Do not stand at my grave and cry,” you grin. “I am not there. I did not die.”

Thomas smiles at the way you finish his poems for him, seemingly effortlessly. Only seemingly. He knows how much work you have done to be able to fit into the world that he had been born into. It doesn’t come naturally, and it makes Thomas adore you even more.

“You didn’t think I left, did you?” You ask, opening the bag and pulling out an assortment of pastries: croissants, éclairs, tarts, etc.

He takes a seat at the counter and shrugs. “We have a habit of leaving each other, don’t we?”

Your movements faulter. You want to tell him – you want to promise him – that this time will be different. This time there is nothing left to pull the two of you apart. This time you will stay with him forever. But you’re afraid that what ever omnipotent being exists likes to ruin people who deal in absolutes. You bite your words back and swallow them deep into your throat.

And it’s okay that neither of you say anything. The two of you are far past that nervous stage where a pause or lull in conversation seems damning. You are past the point where one of you is trying to impress the other, and the other is waiting to be impressed. There is no performance, simply existing together.

So you eat croissants in silence and in love.

After breakfast, you move out onto the balcony to read while Thomas sequesters himself in his office. You drink sips of orange juice in between chapters and the day wastes away. It’s hardly a waste of a day, but if this is wasting time, you despise being efficient with it. Hours later, you return inside and begin your search for Thomas.

You find him in one of the mansion’s parlors. There are so many empty rooms in this house – filled with furniture, yes, but not with people and life. Thomas is in one of the smaller rooms. You think it must be his favorite, this isn’t the first time you have been here with him, but maybe the last time was just a dream. Thomas smiles when he sees you in the doorway and beckons for you to join him.

He hands you a little handkerchief that he’s quietly been working on in his favorite chair. Your name is embroidered along the edge of the fabric in a scripty font. You meet Thomas’s eyes, and you can see his glowing with pride.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” You tease him.

Any manner of teasing goes out the window when he replies with, “I can’t make you stay, can I?”

This catches you off guard and you stare at him with wide eyes. “It’s not like… It’s not like I had plans to leave anytime soon.”

“Then don’t. Not any time soon, not at any time ever,” Thomas says.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I’m saying that…” His sentences are broken up as he sighs to himself frustrated by his failing attempts to find the right words. “I love you. I don’t want you to leave this time, not at all. Stay. I know this isn’t planned out beautifully and – and I don’t have a ring! God, I’m messing this all up, aren’t I?”

“Thomas,” you say weakly, but he continues on his monologue.

“Marry me. Please, please marry me. I’ve loved you since the day I saw you, and I never want to see you walk away from me again, I know this isn’t glamorous—”

He’s trying to get down on one knee to make this feel more like a traditional proposal, but you grab his hands and bring them to your waist. Your hands hold his face and your forehead is pressed against his.

“Yes. Yes, Thomas. Yes,” you say.

“Yes?” He asks. “This is what you want, too?”

You nod. “Yes. This is what I want.”

It’s taken you far too long to realize this. You’ve been wrong about Thomas. All this time, you believed that you and Thomas were two ships passing in the night, destined to pass each other in the darkness of the night. You’ve finally figured out that the glow of the light reflecting off the water isn’t another ship. No, it’s a lighthouse, and it’s beckoning you home.

He’s guiding you home. He loves you. Always has.

taglist:

@farihafangirls @drreamhugs @id-do-it-for-free-babe @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @lanaisjefferson @hamildork @veritasnvirtue @exrthangel

#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson imagine #thomasjefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #dark academia au #modern au #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs x reader #thomas jefferson fic #thomas jefferson fanfic #marquis de lafayette #lafayette x reader #x reader #reader insert #rms titanic #dark academia

[deja-you]

Bc why is this RMS titanic 🧎‍♀️

ahahaha that really is the whole plot of RMS Titanic tho 

[deja-you]

The RMS Titanic (and other ships that pass in the night)

t. jefferson x reader

part eleven | the ways we stay

summary: you know your relationship with Thomas will only be a fleeting memory, but you allow your lives to collide nonetheless.

word count: 800

masterlist | series masterlist | previous | next

Thomas’s hands hold you gently, and his eyes wash over your body in a succession of blinks. Frequent blinks, he thinks maybe if he closes his eyes for too long, this will be nothing more than a dream. He needs you here. In his arms.

You blink frequently, too. Not because you’re not certain that all this is real, more so because you know this is all real and you’re trying to figure how to process this. It’s some sort of cocktail of shock and commiseration and horror and acceptance. It leaves an acrid taste in the back of your mouth.

Pulling your bottom lip behind your teeth, you release it with a sigh. You want to say all sorts of things. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. How could you cover all this up? You don’t have to go through this alone. Are you scared? It’s alright, none of this changes anything between us. You don’t say any of this.

“Thomas.” Every letter on the curve of your lips when you say his name tells him everything you want to say. He grips you tighter now, his hands pulling your body against his skin. There are silent sobs; even after everything, Thomas still mourns the loss of his father.

They cremated him because that was what he had wanted, Thomas tells you. It’s not an important fact; it holds no significance. But for some reason Thomas finds this little detail important, so it is important to you too. There are a lot of things the family does because that was what he had wanted, Thomas says.

Thomas’s mom promises not to remarry. Thomas’s sister Anna chooses to attend William & Mary because it was Peter’s alma mater. And while Thomas had always dreamed of getting a doctorate and teaching at a university, he ends his schooling early and finds himself a government job. Because that was what he had wanted, they all tell themselves. In reality, the great Peter Jefferson would’ve been more grateful for an expensive bottle of wine and a Cuban cigar than he would’ve been for all the sacrifices his family had made for him, but no one remarks on this. Some things are best buried under feet of dirt where they will nevermore see the light of day.

Today it’s raining. You hate the rain, not because it’s dreadful weather or because you hate getting wet. You hate the rain because it was in it that Thomas left you, and it was in the rain that you left Thomas. The first goodbye had been covered in rainwater on that train platform. The first goodbye when you wondered if it was the last. The second goodbye had soaked you to the bone, and you had been left cold days after. The first time you’re foolish enough to ask Thomas to stay. The second time he is foolish enough not to ask you to stay.

You’re afraid of the rain, and you’re afraid that this means goodbye. Thomas has learned from his past mistakes. His hands would be shaking if they weren’t steadied on your skin. One hand holds your back, the other fits nicely on the part of your neck just behind your ear. Thomas holds you close but gives you enough room to leave if that’s what you choose.

“Stay.” Thomas asks. “Please stay.”

Because Thomas wants you to stay not for his own desire, but purely because your presence brings him peace from all that torments him, you agree. Besides, there’s nowhere else you want to be. You give him your quiet acceptance, and he pulls you tighter into his arms and carries you into his bedroom. Thomas lays you down on his bed and finds his place next to you.

Thomas doesn’t try to kiss you, and his hands don’t wander. He has no ulterior motive of bringing you to his bed than to simply be close to you. The both of you remain in the blinding darkness and the loud silence; then you feel Thomas surrender to Hypnos. You think maybe this is the first time he’s really slept since his father’s death.

You stay up a little longer to think about Thomas. You think about everything he has gone through and how that must have impacted who he is now. You think about the unsteady pattern of his breathing while he sleeps. You think that maybe he’ll never be the same teenager you fell in love with at school. You think you like seeing him in green more than yellow or red. You think about all the big things and all the little things about Thomas, because both are equally important when you know that this is the person you want beside you for as long as you can have him.

The rain lulls you to sleep.

taglist:

@farihafangirls @drreamhugs @id-do-it-for-free-babe @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @lanaisjefferson @hamildork @veritasnvirtue @exrthangel

lmk if you want to be added :)

#thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson imagine #thomasjefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #dark academia au #modern au #hamilton fanfic #hamilton x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs x reader #thomas jefferson fic #thomas jefferson fanfic #marquis de lafayette #lafayette imagine #lafayette fic #lafayette x reader #x reader #reader insert #rms titanic #dark academia