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legrandepapillon · 6 years

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Hush, You Foolish Man (dollmads)

Summary: James alters the course of history, but he can’t say his wife is very happy about it. Prompt: “Take it easy. I wouldn’t want you to tear your stitches again.” Author’s Notes: is… this my first historical setting fic on this collection…… it took me fifty ficlets to get here

i’m trash

In the long run, James would look back and wonder why the hell he jumped in front of a bullet meant for the man that for years, he’d come to loathe. He’d curse himself to heaven, hell and purgatory for getting involved in the childish spat between Burr and Hamilton, for allowing Alexander ‘Can’t-Be-Quiet-For-His-Own-Good’ Hamilton the reprieve of another moment of his slanderous and scandalous life here on this God-given Earth. He’d be angry with himself for intervening with history. For foolishly taking himself away from his wife, and child.

Or at least, he would if he had the glorious fortune to live to see the day that he recovered from this horror show.

When Burr had arrived on his doorstep a month prior, angry tears welling in dark eyes and fury coating the words on his tongue, James had been genuinely surprised. Well, he’d been taken aback at first but once he realized that the rage emanating from the other man was not directed at him, it had turned into surprise. Given how poorly the election had gone for him, and how cruel Thomas had been to the man afterward, Madison hadn’t expected to hear from Aaron Burr ever again in his lifetime. At least not directly. And certainly not so late in the evening.

But he quickly realized that the reason his old friend and now political rival had arrived on the doorstep of his home wasn’t for a social call nor was it for an argument, but for a far more pressing matter—a grave one, in fact. Aaron and Alexander would be having a duel at Weehawken, and Burr wanted James to attend as his second.

First, he’d tried to talk Aaron down from it—”Duel’s are dumb and immature, and Theodosia needs her father, sir.”—but all of that had only fueled the rage that the new Vice President was struggling to contain within himself. It ignited a passion that James had only seen inside Aaron once before—when he’d run for President—, a scary fire that burned behind his eyes and elevated his voice to levels Madison hadn’t thought he was capable of reaching. And honestly, by the time Burr had finished ranting and raving about how Hamilton had been in the way of his every attempt at greatness, about how Hamilton was entitled to this or disrespectful about that… Madison was tired of arguing. It became clear that there was no talking his once-friend down from this.

So, then he’d contemplated saying no the absurd request. After all, bearing witness to a duel was quickly becoming illegal—and even in places where it wasn’t already, it was greatly frowned upon. Not only would attending and being the witness to a man’s potential murder be horrendously stupid in general, but it’d be social suicide—which means it’d be more stupid for Madison, who had plans to one day be the next President of the United States. No one would dare associate with him if they found out he participated, and the last thing he needed was to make life any harder on Dolley.

But it had seemed like Aaron wasn’t one to take no for answer, anymore. And if he was being honest, James had always enjoyed a bit of old-fashioned gossip. There was a good chance that neither of them would shoot, and he could be home before breakfast to tell Dolley all about how over-dramatic the two of them had been.

He’d accepted. Foolishly.

In his defense, he thought that by the time the two men got a look at each other, they’d call the duel off. They’d been friends, afterall—Aaron had been one of the first people Alexander had met when he arrived in America. He’d attended his wedding, they were fellow soldiers. They both had known each other for thirty or more so years, which was why James didn’t believe for a second they had the capability of shooting each other.

He could tell as they rowed across the Hudson, could tell by the anxiety and turmoil in Aaron’s face, that he didn’t want to kill Alexander. They had all joked about it before—especially Thomas, who sometimes was a little obsessive in his comments—but Burr wasn’t a murderer. No matter how much of a nuisance this man was. He was simply too prideful to allow the Hamilton to continue his libel unchecked. And of course, Madison couldn’t really blame him for that—no matter how infantile he thought the two of them were being. Being told that one had no opinions, no morals, no viewpoints… that must’ve stung, especially when it was done so publically. He isn’t sure himself how he would’ve reacted to such a humiliation.

Certainly not with a duel, though, that was for sure.

When they dock at the banks and disembark from the boat, James can see Burr softening a bit. When they approach Hamilton and his crew and Pendleton passes one of the guns to James, he can feel the tension loosen—if only for a second. Hamilton seems distracted, as he looks out over the sunrise and plays with the trigger of the gun.

I’ll be home before Dolley wakes, James thinks to himself blandly, placing the gun in Aaron’s hands before returning to join Pendleton to discuss the matter. He isn’t made nervous about the duel actually happening until this moment—the moment where he presumes the entire affair will be called off.

He and Pendleton meet between where the two opposing men stand, and when Madison asks for a simple apology from Hamilton, he expects Pendleton to agree. He expects the man to concede, admit that this entire affair was overdrawn and foolish and the two of them should return home to their families. I’ll be home before Dolley awakes, he thinks again, a confident air around him.

Instead, Nathaniel nervously fiddles with the sleeves of his coat as he says, “I’m… I’m not sure Mr. Hamilton is willing to agree to that.”

James’ stomach drops. He opens his mouth to protest, to insist to this man that of course, Hamilton should be agreeing to apologize. What, does the man have a death wish? he thinks bitterly, eyeing the grey-haired figure over the shoulder of Pendleton. He knows that Alexander had been challenged to—and had challenged men to—duels before, but he couldn’t possibly have such arrogance about him to think he was bulletproof. This was not a political debate, this was not a cabinet meeting. Someone could—and would—die. No one’s ego was enough to save their life from a bullet shot by vengeance.

Looking over his own shoulder to Burr, he finds that his gaze has hardened. He’s glaring daggers into Alexander, slowly loading the bullet into his gun. This is no longer, to James, a matter of childish ego between frenemies. He realizes, staring at his old friend, that this had quickly become an immediate matter of life and death.

“Well,” James says curtly, knots of anxiety tying themselves in his stomach. Suddenly, he finds himself on the wrong side of history, staring down at his friend that was now planning to murder his political rival... Nerves prickle just beneath his flesh, and the crisp morning air is suddenly far too cool—everything inside of him screams that something is not right, something is not right. Do something to stop this, he screams at himself. Stop this, at once! “Then I suppose, there is nothing that can be done.”

There is nothing that can be done, he assures himself, though something in him is not satisfied with that outcome.

Nathaniel nods, shakes Madison’s hand, and turns away—back towards Hamilton, to whisper something in his ear. The man’s eyes find James, then they float over to Aaron, and then they flutter shut for several long moments. In that time, there is nothing in the air but the sound of birds chirping and the river water pattering along—almost as though the world is giving a respectful moment of silence to the two men laid bare before it. Then Alexander takes a deep inhale and gives a nod, turning on his heel.

Burr turns as well.

They count.

One…

This isn’t right, James mind screams as he watches their boots crunch the leaves on the ground. Nathaniel warns him to turn around for deniability, but he can’t will his body to do so—he’s frozen in anxiety, anticipation. Someone could die, right this very moment, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the inevitable.

Four…

Do something! Stop this at once!

Six…

This is foolish!

Ten…

Someone is going to die!

For some odd reason, that thought is the one that spurs his feet forward. He’s already moved towards the line of fire when Burr has turned, pistol pointed directly at Hamilton’s chest and finger on the trigger. A sense of urgency blanketing him, James half-stumbles, half-runs in front of the gun just as Hamilton raises his own weapon in the air. The action of concession is too late, however, because Aaron has already pulled his finger back against the trigger and fired.

He distinctly hears both Hamilton and Burr simultaneously shout ‘No!’ and a ringing in his ears from the gunshot. Pain sears through his stomach, spreading out to bloom a blood-red flower against the creme cloth of his coat. His eyes can’t focus on just any one thing, but he distinctly catches a glimpse of the regret on Aaron’s face before his eyes flutter closed from the blood loss.

They open again at home, and his nose is filled with the smell of pork cooking and fresh laundry. James grunts in confusion, attempting to sit up from what must’ve been a bad dream. He is made distinctly aware of the fact that it was indeed not a bad dream by the tearing pain that spreads through him again—exploding from the center of his stomach and rippling outwards. Giving a cry of pain, he nearly collapses back against the sheets but is caught by gentle hands.

“Stop!” a soft, familiar voice says. James looks up to find his wife’s french manicured hands on his chest, easing him back down against the clusters of pillows. He frowns just slightly at the design—she hadn’t had it before he left, which meant Thomas must’ve sent her more of those French fashion magazines. How long was I out for? he wonders curiously.

There is worry crinkling the corners of her dark eyes, and she smoothes back the sweaty curls of James’ dark hair—a comforting action for the both of them—as she speaks. “Take it easy! I wouldn’t want you to tear your stitches again. It was quite the hassle the first time it happened, I think you’ve ruined a set of sheets… or two.”

Wincing at how it scratches at his throat when he does so, James mutters, “I was shot.”

“Yes. Stupidly, I might add. You told me you were going to a meeting,” she says, pointedly avoiding looking him in the face—probably afraid she’d be unable to school her expression out of anger and hurt. Instead, she peels back the covers of their bedsheets and tuts her tongue at what she finds—his quick action had caused blood to begin spread through his bandages, soaking the perfectly white cloths and his shirt a wine red. “I’ll have to change these.”

“It was a meeting,” he says defensively, watching as she rises from her spot at his side to open a nearby cupboard. A cupboard that hadn’t been there before either—stacked neatly with tonics, bandages, alcohols, and medicines. He can’t help but notice how frazzled she looks as she does this—her usually well-styled hair falls limply over her shoulders, and she doesn’t wear any of the grande dresses that he’d become accustomed to seeing her in. Instead, she wears a simple frock—one that a milkmaid might wear to work the cows. It’s obvious that she has not left the home they share together—Dolley had never been known to let the public see her this way.

“Do you take me for an idiot, my love?” she asks flatly, filling a wicker basket with bandages, towels, and antiseptics before joining him again at his bedside. She sets the basket of materials down and begins the messy task of changing his bandages.

He winces, this time from the guilt. “Dolley, I—”

“Hush, you foolish man,” she says, peeling back the cloths. Looking down, James grimaces at the wound. Dark puckered flesh around a carefully stitched together hole in his stomach, red and swollen from irritation. Blood oozes and gushes from the sides—probably from where he’d torn the stitches in his abrupt movement. Dolley sighs, and he doesn’t say anything when he notices her swipe at tears on her face. “We can argue about how stupid and callous that was later. Rest more. Are you hungry?”

“How long was I out for?” he asks groggily, waving his hand in dismissal at the offer. Dolley hums a faint tune underneath her breath, peeling the bandages the rest of the way from his clammy skin and tossing them onto the rug on the floor.

“A week and a half,” she says, after a moment. Taking a cloth, she pours a bit of the alcohol onto it and begins to clean up the blood that had begun to dribble from the wound. James winces at the faint burning that comes when she swipes around the gunshot wound, gives a small hiss of pain. Despite the scowl gracing her lips, she lets up on the pressure. “I thought you were going to die. Everyone did. Hamilton, Burr, those idiots they… they send their sympathies and well wishes. I made stew.”

James gives a laugh, a dry one that hurts his abdomen, as he says, “You can’t cook.”

“Fine,” Dolley says, tossing aside the dirty cloth with the rest of his bandages. She’s quiet for a few moments as she finishes redressing his injury—noticeably pulling tighter than necessary—before she retrieves the still steaming bowl of stew waiting on the nightstand for him. “The servants made stew. Eat.”

“I’m… sorry, I didn’t tell you,” he interrupts, as she lifts a spoon from the bowl. Dolley’s hand falters, before lowering down. Sighing, she sets the bowl aside again and reaches up to brush away his hair.

“You should be,” Her voice is soft as she speaks, the edge slowly receding before dissipating completely. Dolley looks tired, he notices under the barely flickering lamplight. There are deep bags under his eyes and a striking sadness that breaks his heart. “You’re lucky that doctor that was with Hamilton was halfway competent, you could’ve gotten an infection or they could’ve shot you somewhere serious or… or—”

Dolley’s voice breaks and she cuts off, bring the sleeve of her dress up to press against her nose. Fat tears roll over the brim of her eyes and she swipes at them again—though unfortunately, this time, she misses the majority. Reaching up with weak hands, he presses it against the side of her face—thumb lightly rolling over the soft skin of her cheek. He thumbs away a stream of tears, a sad smile gracing his lips.

“My love, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why the hell would you jump in front of a loaded gun!” she snaps, abruptly pulling away from his touch. She picks up the bowl again, stirring the contents of the stew around with an urgency in her movements he had not seen before. The tears that fall over her face come with rapid succession now, pooling at her chin and making large droplets on the sheets. “... I could’ve lost you! You could’ve died! What were you thinking!? No, you obviously weren’t thinking!”

“Dolley, I’m sorry,” he stresses, attempting to still her hand. He wraps his hand around the one that holds the fork, stilling her movements. Then, with a weak smile, “I promise, I won’t do it again.”

She softens, looks back down at the bowl. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be,” he assures, with a whisper.

“I love you, James. I truly, truly do. You have made me the happiest woman on Earth. But damn, if you aren’t a fool sometimes.”

“You are getting a potty-mouth from that parrot of yours. I do say, she has a bad influence on you,” he chuckles, head falling back against the pillow. Though there are still tears in his eyes, his efforts are finally rewarded with a light chuckle and smile. Lifting the spoon again, this time with a purpose, she brings it to his lips.

“Oh, hush. Here.”

“Mm. Thank you. Dolley, I love you, too. And I promise, if there ever is another duel, I’ll stay far from the firing range.”

“There will be no other duel,” the woman says with finalcy—eyes narrowing and a daring in her tone. James chuckles again, wincing just slightly and shifting in his sheets to become more comfortable.

“Are you sure? Hamilton is still alive, isn’t he?”

“James,” she says sternly, warning in her eyes and tone. He smiles as she readies another spoonful of the stew for him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Author’s Notes: this isn’t… particularly fluffy or angsty. but it's my first dollmads fic so with practice I will get better hopefully

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ysxbel · 5 years

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Do whatever u want with these. iPhone wallpaper or whatever, for me dis I’d trash meh

#historical peeps #these are real ships #alexander hamilton x elizabeth schuyler #thomas jefferson x sally hemmings i dunno anymore waaa #Lafayette x adrienne biiiissshhh #george washington x martha washington #aaron burr x theodosia burr #james madison x dolley madison #bye #idc if any of u hates it or the ship

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smoljamesmadison · 7 years

Conversation

Dolley: This is for Jemmy, when you find him. [kisses Jefferson on the cheek]

Jefferson: [clears his throat] Alright, but I-I don't think it'll mean the same coming from me.

#jeffmadsey #jeffmads #madison x dolley #dolley madison #thomas jefferson #james madison #incorrect hamilton quotes #original: toy story #dmads #tjeffs #jmads #otp: thomas we are engaged

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rising-above-stars · 7 years

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These Inklings of Love IX

Word Count: 1156

Thomas never liked mirrors. He didn't like seeing his reflection in the glass. James was his roommate, and James knew about Thomas' discomfort around mirrors. The mosaic on his skin was beautiful, but Thomas didn't think so. He relied on James to tell him if he looked alright or not; if he looked like the person everyone thought he was. He didn't like the image that stared back at him. It just didn't seem like him. Although, there were some days where Thomas' curiosity had got the better of him and he forced himself to stand in front of the mirror, to look at the image of himself that the mirror held.

And that's where he was now. Standing in the bathroom, his eyes trailing over the collection of marks that found their way onto his skin. He couldn't tell you how many marks that he had, but he could tell you a story about each one, or a little detail he noticed about the person, or their names.

Thomas Jefferson isn't the person you think he is. But it was easier acting like that than trying to explain why he had so many marks from relationships that hardly even lasted a few days. He fell in love much too easy. Although it was hardly ever reciprocated. Sometimes he'd have multiple coloured marks on his skin at the same time like he did now. That always seemed to cause a problem for other people. Thomas had a hard time with relationships. To protect himself, he made himself seem like the type of person looking for one night stands, who doesn't want to stick to just one relationship at a time. But he never wanted sex. He wasn't so sure if he liked that idea. He thought it was weird, he was supposed to like sex, right? Maybe something was wrong with him. James tried to convince him otherwise. The only person who understood Thomas, and didn't mind his marks or how easily he fell in love, was James. James had been his best friend since childhood. So it was no surprise when he discovered James' koi fish on his wrist. He was sure James would hate him if he found out. James reassured Thomas that everything was okay and that he didn't hate him. That helped him feel a little better. Thomas sighed, trailing his fingers across the marks. He turned to look at his side and froze. No, he was seeing things, that mark wasn't supposed to be there, he wasn't supposed to fall in love with him. The mark he saw belonged to the one person he never expected to fall in love with. But here it was, in all its bright, vibrant greens. The curved feather that belonged to none other than Alexander Hamilton. He placed his fingers on the mark, carefully. He wasn't sure how long this was going to last, sometimes they never lasted very long. But Thomas had no way of knowing how long the mark would stay vibrant and colourful before the colour faded. He just hoped it faded soon. Thomas grabbed his shirt and put it on, doing up the buttons before he walked out of the bathroom. James looked up from his book and nodded in approval. Thomas smiled. But there was something behind that smile that Thomas tried to hide. James knew that look. He'd seen it plenty of times. The pain, the disappointment, the numbness of knowing you're in love with someone that you cannot have.

"Zsa Zsa! Gilbert's online!" Adrienne called out to her girlfriend. Elizabeth grinned. "Tell him I'll be there soon! I'm covered in flour." "So am I mon chou, hurry up!" "Did you just call me a fucking cabbage?" Lafayette laughed as he listened to his two close friends talk. He missed having Adrienne and Elizabeth so close. He needed them, but being in different time zones made it hard to talk to each other. They eventually gave up on trying to make sure they weren't calling each other at ungodly hours, they just called when they could and the other would answer. Elizabeth soon appeared on the screen, covered in flour just like she said. "How are my favourite bakers?" Lafayette grinned Adrienne and Elizabeth looked at each other, pretending to look at each other in thought. "Hm... This one's looked better," Adrienne teased. Elizabeth shoved her over, laughing. "I'm expecting some cakes soon," Lafayette joked. The bakers laughed. "Of course, Gilbert. We'll never forget about you," Elizabeth smiled. "Now, what did we do to deserve a call from our favourite American Frenchman?" Adrienne asked, grinning. Lafayette shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh... I got my first mark..." He said slowly, looking at the screen with a sheepish but nervous grin. Adrienne and Elizabeth grinned. Although Elizabeth's smile soon faded. "Gil? Are you alright? Is something wrong?" Lafayette shrugged. "I'm alright, Zsa Zsa. It's just-" He sighed. "He likes someone else..." Adrienne and Elizabeth shared a look. "Oh..." "But I can't help it! You've both seen him! Those eyes, those curls, those freckles... I just never realised how much I love him until now..." Adrienne handed Elizabeth a ten dollar note. Elizabeth smiled and slid it into her pocket. "What?" Lafayette frowned. "We had a bet on who you liked. I was convinced that it was Hercules," Adrienne shrugged. "I'm good at these things, you know that," Elizabeth grinned. Lafayette sighed and shook his head, a faint smile on his face. He loved these two, platonically of course. They're like his sisters. Elizabeth and Adrienne act like Lafayette is their little brother, not that he minded. He was only a few months younger than them. There was never a dull moment when he was talking to them, they were his favourite people to talk to. He just had to refrain from answering their calls in the middle of a lecture.

"You two are so boring and awkward. Theo, back me up here," Dolley said, pointing her spoon at Eliza and Maria. Theo rolled her eyes. "Dolley, they just found out that they have each other's marks. You know their history." Dolley sighed and shook her head, stirring her coffee. "Hamilton's a dick." She took a sip. "We need to get you two out of your shells again."

Eliza and Maria nervously glanced at each other, Maria gently squeezing Eliza's hand underneath the table. "Dolley, you need to give them time to talk it out," Theo sighed. Maria and Eliza didn't need to talk. They talked the night before. (Despite being told they weren't allowed to leave their dorm room John stayed over at Lafayette and Hercules' place and Alexander knocked on Aaron's door in the middle of the night). Dolley gave the three a smirk as she sipped her coffee. "No, they need to let loose, have some fun. And I know just what to do."

Next>>

#these inklings of love #soulmates #soulmate au #hamilton au #alexander hamilton #john laurens #thomas jefferson #james madison #lafayette x adrienne #adrienne de noailles #elizabeth sanders #theodosia prevost burr #theodosia bartow #dolley payne #jamilton #maria lewis x elizabeth schuyler #marliza #elizabeth schuyler #maria lewis

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astralaffairs · 4 years

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voltaire to versace 01 | thomas jefferson

title: voltaire to versace 01

pairing: professor!thomas jefferson x reader

words: 7.3k

warnings: implied sex, heavily suggestive content but nothing explicit, hella teasing, dolley madison payne

desc: from francis bacon to foucault, descartes to dante, your political philosophy seminar doesn’t promise to be a blowout — and yet, one mysterious stranger and a risqué evening later, your burberry-clad professor gives you the feeling it won’t be quite the snoozefest you’d expected.

WASHINGTON D.C. — HOME to the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, a metro that no longer catches on fire, and most importantly, one Y/N L/N's new university. Coming in as a transfer student in the second semester of her junior year wasn't exactly her ideal scenario, but walking across a stage in a cap and gown sixteen months later certainly was — a degree is a degree.

She'd spent the previous two semesters abroad, traveling throughout Europe and trying to figure out her next step. She hadn't yet paid her junior year tuition, and on one fateful night in northern Italy, she transferred to the University of Westphalia on a whim (that whim being a generous financial aid package and a pre-existing housing offer, but that was neither here nor there). It'd been a jarring few months, spending the Christmas season packing up her entire life to not only leave Europe — a process that came with many heartbroken nights of hotboxing a friend's apartment and mourning the loss of her societal nap times — but also finally abandoning her hometown in favor of moving to the east coast.

The change may have left a lump in her throat, but it lifted a weight from her shoulders; she felt light on her feet despite the heavy D.C. snow. Much of the credit for that had to fall to her dearest Dolley Payne, the light of her life, the wind beneath her wings, the old best friend who'd found herself a dirt-cheap apartment just outside of campus and offered that Y/N come be her roommate. How could she resist a proposal like that?

However, that was also how she found herself a drink and a half deep and putting back on her boots at nine o'clock the night before classes started.

"Are you sure going out right before the first day back is a good idea?" Though Y/N was eyeing Dolley skeptically, she just rolled her eyes, pulling on her coat and scarf.

"Relax, it's not like we're going clubbing," she assured her, but when Y/N raised a dubious eyebrow, she continued, "Come on! You literally moved in last night. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't take you out at least once before everything's back in college mode?"

Dolley nudged Y/N playfully as she pulled on her coat, and the latter sighed. "I'm a new student here, Doll. I don't think showing up hungover to my first class is a particularly good look."

"You don't even have class until 3 PM!" she argued, and though she pursed her lips, Y/N had to admit Dolley had a point. "Relax, I won't even get you drunk. I just need you to come see the cute little speakeasy on fourth street. It's my favorite spot."

"'Speakeasy'?" Y/N questioned, buttoning up the front of her coat, and Dolley nodded enthusiastically.

"Mhm. You've gotta know somebody to know about it," she said. "It's a pretty open secret in this neighborhood, but it's one of the only bars that isn't always crowded."

"It's a Sunday night; how many people are really going out drinking?"

Dolley gave her a tired glance. "You'd be surprised."

———————

AND WHEN THEY stumbled upon the bar not twenty minutes later, surprised she was.

"This is really the place?" Y/N was looking around skeptically, struggling to believe that the dirty, dank alley she'd been led into was was the entrance to Dolley's favorite spot in town. Had Dolley decided to murder her now that her name was on the lease, if only for the insurance payout? Had she been dealing with the mafia? Maybe she'd changed more in the past year or so than Y/N thought.

"Do I ever steer you wrong?" Dolley asked, eliciting a heavy sigh from the other woman.

"Too often to try and count."

"So then it's long overdue that I get it right." She finally stopped in front of a nondescript, weathered metal door in the back of a mildly battered building, and Y/N all but skidded to a halt, having been expecting to keep walking a while longer. She was hesitant to follow when the door Dolley opened revealed a set of stairs going up, but taking a step forward revealed the warm light filtering down toward them, carrying alongside it traces of jazz music and animated chatter. "See? I know what I'm talking about sometimes."

"Sometimes," Y/N repeated, unconvinced.

When they emerged just moments later, Y/N decided fairly quickly that she liked it. It was quaint, old-fashioned, but a warm, charming space.

"So?" Dolley asked, and though she gave a noncommital shrug, Y/N was smiling. "Let's get a drink or two in you and maybe you'll give it the credit it deserves." And maybe, just maybe, Dolley had hit the mark once again.

Two drinks and an hour later, the both of them were seated at the bar, giggling and slumped over one another but far from drunk. As it turned out, a year apart left them with a surprising amount to talk about, from Y/N's hostel horror stories to Dolley's nightmare of a former roommate -- both of which left them endlessly grateful that they were going to be living together from then on. Their coats were draped over the backs of their seats, and the energy spilling over from their spirited conversation was born more of a sugar high than of any real intoxication -- both their drinks were heavy with fruit juice and mixers, if only for the sake of sobriety.

"...but that was when the cops showed up."

Y/N's eyes widened. Dolley had only finished detailing about a semester and a half of her freshman year, and she was still at least fifteen minutes into sharing her first run-in with UW's notorious midterm rager. "You can't just stop the story there!"

"But there's no more to tell! No one stuck around to get arrested. We were on the steps of the library, for heaven's sake."

"So you just left? How'd you get away?"

"Oh," Dolley giggled, a hand resting on Y/N’s knee as she leaned toward her in her short fit of laughter. "Well, I just ran for it, and very nearly got myself hopelessly lost. A grad student ended up letting me hide out in the library until it all cleared up."

"A grad student, huh?" Y/N wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "And you spent the whole night locked in there with them?"

"Oh, you know it's not like that! I was nineteen, don't you start making drama where there isn't any."

"But Doll, you know that's my specialty," Y/N whined, and Dolley laughed. "Anyway, were they cute, though?"

"All I'll say is that if I were trapped in a library with them tomorrow, I'd feel lucky to be on birth control."

Dolley's sly grin made Y/N gasp teasingly, leaning back to eye the other woman as though she'd just instigated a scandal. "Dolley Payne! I am ashamed at your lack of self restraint."

"You wouldn't be if you were on the receiving end of it."

"You offering?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink.

"I mean, my roommate just moved out, so there's no one at my apartment right now," Dolley said mildly, giving a slight shrug. "Any chance you wanna spend the night?"

When she winked, Y/N couldn't help but laugh outright. "Mm, I'll definitely consider it," she said, sarcasm heavy in her voice, and despite her dry tone, Dolley once again burst into a fit of giggles, her hysterics more contagious than Y/N would've liked to admit. Perhaps her roommate couldn't hold her alcohol quite as well as as she thought.

Dolley leaned back toward the bar for a refill, and Y/N's eyes began to wander in her absence. The room was packed with leather furniture, tufted couches and armchairs; it had a fireplace along one wall and a pool table in the corner at which two men seemed to be escalating quite a heated argument. The sight amused her, if only in the least, but she turned away with her small smile, taking another sip of her drink. That was when her gaze landed on the man directly to her left where she sat facing Dolley, his arm draped over the back of the couch and his stare fixed on her friend. Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, don't look now, but the hottie at your three o'clock is totally checking you out."

"'Three o'clock'?" Dolley repeated, brow furrowed, "Y/N, it's past ten, what are you--"

"Military directions, Doll; just--" Y/N cut herself off with a scowl, glancing back to her side. "Don't be too obvious about it. He's directly to your right." When Dolley's head whipped around toward the man, subtlety be damned, Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. However, the other woman's eyes widening gave her pause. "What, d'you know him, or something?"

With the way Dolley was biting her lip and fiddling with the rim of her glass, it was strikingly obvious that there was more to the story. "...Sort of," she replied vaguely.

"Which means what, exactly?" Despite Y/N's newly uncovered intrigue, Dolley's eyes didn't leave the man in question, and her best friend scowled. "Spill. Now."

"That's James," she finally answered, wearing a wide grin. "He's a friend."

"I need details here!" Y/N demanded. "Based on how he's looking at you, I'm not sure I buy that he's just 'a friend.'"

"He's a PhD candidate. We've crossed paths in the school of economics a couple of times, and he's a big sweetheart. But you didn't hear that last part from me." Y/N raised an eyebrow at her words, and Dolley continued, "And I might've slept with him, like, once or twice."

"How is that the last thing you think to mention? You've been holding out on me," Y/N said, swatting at Dolley's shoulder, but she just shrugged. "So are you gonna go over there and talk to him, or what?"

"Oh, no, I can't leave you alone here!" she protested. "This is our night to celebrate your finally moving here. I wouldn't abandon you like that."

"I can take care of myself; I promise." Y/N gave her a pointed look before nodding back toward James. "Besides, you're stuck with me all the time now. Don't pass up something like him just to spare your conscience. C'mon."

Dolley hesitated, stealing another glance to her right, and when James met her gaze, giving her a small smile, Y/N could see her face light up. "Are you sure?" Despite Dolley's hesitance, her eyes were shining, and Y/N nodded.

"Go. Have fun. Live a little."

"I'll be back for you in a bit, dear." Dolley squeezed Y/N's shoulder affectionately as she stood up, sending her a grateful look before starting off to her right.

Y/N turned back to the bar with a chuckle, finishing off her drink and asking the bartender for a glass of water, musing about what her first few days at the university would look like, her gaze absent as she looked up at the shelves of alcohol across from her. She was still sad to have left her semester of travel behind, but she'd long since decided to embrace the change this year had already begun to bring. She was living at the nation's capitol, paying next to no tuition at a prestigious university. New beginnings were bittersweet, but she was excited for her path forward.

Her thoughts had begun to gravitate toward the semester of actual classes she had before her (because apparently, to get a degree, she had to "get good grades") when she was pulled back to the room before her, the bartender setting a martini down in front of her. It looked tempting, but-- "I'm sorry; I think there's been a mistake?"

Her words seemed to catch the bartender by surprise as he stopped himself in his tracks, returned to where she was sitting. "What seems to be the problem, ma'am?"

"No problem at all, but I think this drink is someone else's," she said, pushing it back toward him with a polite smile. "I've just been having water."

"Actually, it was sent by the gentleman at the end of the bar." Her eyebrows shot up, and when she glanced to her right, she caught the gaze of a well-dressed man whose eyes were already trained on her, wearing a barely-there smile, an expectant eyebrow raised. She hadn't realized she was staring, gaze wandering from the v-neck of his sweater to where it was pulled taut around his dark forearms, until the bartender cleared his throat, and she turned back to him with a start. The man several seats over was now grinning outright, in her opinion overly self-pleased, and she deigned not to acknowledge how the way he was looking at her had her heart pounding against her ribcage. "Take it or leave it, but it's no mistake."

She bit her lip, not daring to turn to her right once more; she could already feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, creeping up her neck. "Would you please send it back to him?" She asked in a small voice. "Tell him that if he wants to talk to me, he can come here and do it himself."

To her relief, he obliged her with a surprised laugh, continuing off with the glass she'd been offered, and she thanked him quietly as he went on his way. It couldn't have been a minute later when a low voice from behind Y/N made her jump.

"Y'know, when I buy women drinks, I don't usually get 'em returned to me with stipulations."

The corners of her lips twitched upward, but she didn't look at him until he came around to stand beside her. "Then maybe you've been buying drinks for the wrong women."

"It's like that, huh?" His soft huff made her smile. "Maybe I bought a drink for the wrong woman just now."

Y/N turned to him with her brow furrowed, already opening her mouth to rebuke him, but when she saw his teasing smile, she stopped herself. "You still decided to come over, didn't you?"

"So, what, you're just too irresistible?" He rose an eyebrow, and she shrugged.

"You said it, not me."

He laughed, drumming his fingers on the back of the chair beside her, and she pursed her lips as she eyed the man. He had a full head of dark, thick curls, and his tight sweater bulged at his biceps, drawing her distracted gaze away from his winning smile. "Mind if I join you, then?"

She was leaning onto the bar, resting on her forearms as she considered him, lips pursed. "I suppose some company couldn't hurt."

"Glad to hear it." Y/N was struggling to pull her eyes away from the wide grin he wore, but as he took a seat beside her, he didn't seem to mind. "So what's a woman like you doin' drinkin' alone on a Sunday?"

"Good question," she started, lips pursed as she considered him -- because really, what was she doing? Playing ghost wingwoman for Dolley? Reminiscing on her shitty flings in Europe? Trying to sober up from the sugar content of her sickeningly sweet cocktails so she didn't throw up from something other than alcohol? "Maybe I've just been waiting for someone to finally approach me."

Her mischievous smile made his eyebrows shoot up, surprised but more than pleasantly so. "'S that right?" The noncommittal tilt of her head gave him little to go on. "Sorry to say it, but if you're lookin' to meet people, this isn't the first place I'd recommend, sweetheart."

"It seems to be working for me so far," she pointed out, raising a smug eyebrow, and the man laughed, eyes shining. "Then again, I don't even know your name. Have we really even formally met?"

"You make an excellent point," he conceded, and when Y/N took another sip of her water, his eyes flickering down to her mouth was the furthest thing from subtle. "But what's the intrigue of a mysterious stranger approachin' you at a bar if I just tell you my name, hm?"

"What, are you going to make me beg for it?" The undertone of her own words certainly wasn't lost on Y/N, not as her voice dropped to a murmur, the corners of her lips curling up into a mischievous smile. He didn't seem thrown off, either; his eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, a fire blazing behind them that Y/N could've sworn hadn't been there even a minute before.

"Don't you start givin' me ideas," he said quietly, and she could feel her breath catch, her stomach turn, but she paid it little mind, "unless that's what you're really lookin' for."

"I don't think I know what you're implying." The innocent smile Y/N had plastered on made him raise an amused brow, despite that her voice sounded as though she'd been winded. "But it does seem awfully mean to make such a fuss over something so simple. I have to say, I almost feel like I'm being exploited."

"Hey, I came all the way over here. 'S your turn to put in some leg work now." When he bumped his elbow into hers, she hadn't expected to laugh at the brief, teasing action, but whether it was hormones or her excessive consumption of glucose, something about that night had her feeling just a bit lighter than usual.

"Alright, alright," she finally caved, dropping the coy facade. "What can I ever do to make up for the wasted martini and two meters of walking you had to overcome?"

"You can tell me where you're from, for starters." Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow at the question, folding her arms, but he only shrugged. "What? Haven't seen you around here before; I know I'd remember if I had." She rolled her eyes when he winked but didn't cut him off. "So what's your deal, then? In town visitin' a friend? Here for some kinda election event?"

"I just moved here, actually. I'm new to the neighborhood."

"So you're livin' around here?"

"So you're already trying to stalk me?"

He laughed at her accusatory stare, her lips pursed. "Nah, 'm just from this part of town," he said, but hesitated a moment to continue as he eyed her curiously. "Can you blame me for takin' interest when I hear a pretty face like yours is gonna be out 'n' about here more often?"

"Excuse you, I'm much more than just a pretty face," Y/N said defensively, but the man just shrugged.

"Well, since you're refusin' to tell me anythin' about yourself, how am I supposed to know that?" The look in his eyes was challenging, and she let out an amused huff, trying to bury how endeared she was in a facade of exasperation.

"Alright, smart guy; you win this one," she said with a scowl, but her lips quirked as she continued, "I just settled into an apartment building a block or two over. Now have I earned your name?"

"I'm Thomas," he supplied.

"Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated quietly, the look in his eyes softening. "So, where'd you move here from?"

"A little bit of everywhere," she responded vaguely, taking another sip of her drink, and Thomas cocked a brow.

"Care to explain?"

"I've been abroad," Y/N laughed, enjoying his look of bemusement. "I'm from Ohio, originally, but I went to Chicago for school, and I've spent the past year or so in Europe."

He nodded, pausing a moment at her words. "Really? Ohio?"

"I spent a year halfway across the world, and that's what you choose to focus on?" Her words were almost indignant, and the disbelief in her narrowed eyes made him laugh.

"'M sorry, I just..." He trailed off, his eyes wandering down her figure, and she gave him a skeptical glance, turned back to her drink. "Wouldn't have pegged you for a Midwesterner."

"There's a reason I ran for the hills the first chance I got." She snorted, taking a sip of her seltzer water as she shook her head. Her gaze was absent, drifting across the wall behind the bar, but before Thomas could question it, she'd turned back to him, eyebrows raised. "So what about you? What's your origin story? Texas? Alabama?"

"Virginia, born and raised," he answered easily, clear pride in it laced through his voice, but he glanced at her suspiciously a moment later. "I really strike you as bein' from Alabama?"

"Listen, the southern accent was all I had to go off of. I did my best," Y/N defended, trying and failing to keep a laugh out of her tone, and he scoffed.

"Sure you did, sweetheart." The sarcastic lilt to his voice came alongside a broad grin, and had his voice not been so playful, she may have written him off right there and then. As it was, though, she couldn't even bring herself to scowl at the words. Instead, she held his warm stare, trying not to concentrate on the fact that she could feel his body heat permeating his sweater just inches to her left, trying to reign in her spiking pulse. Being beyond hyper-aware of just how close Thomas was, though, it shouldn't have startled Y/N when he knocked his knee into hers. When her eyes refocused, having been lost in thought, she could see in his eyes the pleasure he was taking in how skittish he'd made her.

"Anyway, now that I'm not some cryptic intruder," he started -- he didn't seem to notice that Y/N's focus was still fixed on subduing the heat rising in her neck, "can I buy you that drink?"

—————————

THUS BEGAN THE rest of their night. It was nearly eleven when Dolley texted her from the other side of the room, a frantic plea for forgiveness if she went home with James. (She swore, she hadn't meant to leave Y/N alone on their first night out together -- besides, Y/N seemed to have found a nightcap of her own. Forget a tall drink of water; the stranger in burgundy was a daiquiri and a half -- Dolley's words, not mine.)

And really, Y/N didn't mind. She was more than willing to walk home alone if it meant a night of just a little adventure. She ended up staying at the bar with Thomas until the owner nearly had to throw them out -- and Y/N couldn't blame them. Neither of them had had anything to drink in over an hour, so she supposed that as the clock neared midnight, they really weren't making much of a dent in the profit margin.

But it wasn't her fault, really. No one told her when she'd left her apartment that evening that, for once in her life, the person sending her a drink wouldn't be an incel with a god complex. Quite frankly, not only was that bullet dodged, but Thomas quickly proved to be more than a few inches above the low, low bar she'd set.

The night grew colder outside the windows, but the pair of them were preoccupied, busy inching closer, her hand falling upon his arm when she laughed, his legs brushing against hers as he acted as though he hadn't even noticed. They could both tell her demure front was just for show; her skin burned under his touch, layers of fabric be damned, and his gaze was electric. She'd long since thrown caution to the wind, anyway. Where the night was headed was clear only minutes after he'd sat down beside her; the air between them was charged. Sure, she'd only met him a couple hours prior, but any sort of a spark could certainly make a fire to last at least one night -- and last it did.

However, she didn't expect to have to be the one to push it that far. Brazenness seemed to be Thomas's mode of operation, so she was almost surprised when their being herded out onto the street below didn't immediately end in his hands on her skin, her body pulled flush against him. When they reached the musty alleyway, she was struggling to believe the firebrand of a man who'd bought her a drink hours before had suddenly become so mild in the night air.

But he'd bought her a drink. The ball was in her court.

"You cold, sweetheart?" Y/N glanced back over her shoulder, shivering, to see Thomas watching her with concern in his eyes. To be candid, she was fine -- winter in D.C. had nothing on the frigid bite of the air in Finland -- but she couldn't pretend how worried he looked wasn't part of what was tempting her to deal with the devil, heavy shadows clinging to his brow.

"I'm alright," she replied quietly, offering him a reassuring smile, but his creased brow didn't part.

"You sure? That coat doesn't look all that heavy."

"Really. I'm okay," she said with a light laugh, though she didn't think how she'd begun sniffling as her nose started to run was helping her case all that much. "I have a short walk home; it's no biggie."

That, however, made his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. "You're walkin' home? Y/N, I dunno how safe that is."

"It's hardly snowing."

"I mean for you to be alone in the city in the middle of the night," he said, pausing as he reached where she stood just before the opening of the alleyway. "Can I call you an Uber?"

She turned her head to find him right by her side, perhaps an inch between the pair, his warm breath tickling her neck as he looked down at her. Her smile was hesitant. "I'm not letting you burn up some fossil fuels for a two block car ride. I can take care of myself."

"How 'bout if I walk you home?" he offered, and she let out a light sigh. "C'mon, leavin' you here alone in the middle of the night doesn't sit right with me. If somethin' happened..."

Though he trailed off, the implication in his words was obvious, and Y/N raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying that, because a stranger might follow me home, I should let a different stranger follow me home to prevent it?"

When she put it like that, Thomas couldn't help his quiet laugh at the irony of the situation. "Hey, I thought we'd agreed I'm not a stranger anymore," he protested, but Y/N looked him up and down skeptically.

"What, you paid for my drinks and called me pretty, and suddenly we're besties?"

"Now, we both know 'besties' wasn't exactly what I was goin' for," he said matter-of-factly, his smile sharp but playful, and despite how tilted the whole situation felt, she couldn't hold back her chuckle. She rolled her eyes, stuffed her hands in her pockets as she turned back to the well-lit sidewalk before them, the January snow crunching under her boots, but when she met his eyes, Thomas's expression had softened. He rose an inquiring eyebrow, and finally, she sighed.

"Yeah, you walking me home would be nice."

A grin split his light demeanor. "Alright. Lead the way, sweetheart."

"Follow me."

They took a right out of the alleyway, and as traffic continued to roar by beside them, speeding through the night, as the low buzz of the antiquated streetlights permeated the air, they fell into a comfortable silence, never falling out of step with one another. Snow was flecked across both their coats, and shadows were cast across their features, cycling back with each passing lamp.

Y/N hadn't been exaggerating when she deemed it a short walk home; it couldn't have been more than five minutes before they found themselves nearing the front steps of her building, and she looked up at him.

"Hey, thanks for tonight," she said, voice timid, and he turned to her with a wide smile.

"'S been my pleasure," he replied. "Sorry for keepin' you out so long; your roommate must be startin' to wonder."

When Y/N laughed lightly, Thomas raised an eyebrow, apparently not following whatever she'd taken away from his words. "I have a feeling she's a little too preoccupied to be worrying about me right now," she said dryly. She'd been back in town for not 48 hours, and Dolley was already going out on her own -- as supportive as Y/N was, Dolley had a habit of getting too attached too quickly. She was praying James wouldn't end up another regrettable hookup.

However, Thomas couldn't exactly hear her thoughts, something Y/N hadn't considered before tightly grabbing ahold of the rope to her mental tangent -- it was his fault, really. She couldn't be blamed for his lack of talent in mind-reading. But as he continued to watch her expectantly, as she pulled herself back to the present, she finally said, "She's spending the night with someone else tonight. Make of that what you will."

He shook his head in amusement. "Good for her."

"I'm sure her host thinks so."

A moment passed in quiet under the frigid night sky, Y/N hesitant to act but Thomas hesitant to leave. He was the one to break it.

"It was good to meet you, Y/N," he said softly, and she raised her eyebrows. Her window of opportunity was dwindling. "Hope I'll see you--"

"D'you want to come upstairs?" She hadn't meant to cut him off, but the words were spilling from her tongue before she could lose her nerve. Her heart was pounding; she wasn't fond of having to make the risky move, and the tentativeness in his raised eyebrows wasn't helping.

"Seriously?" Oh, God. Was it really such a ridiculous idea that he was struggling to believe she was asking? "I..." Thomas let out a heavy sigh when he trailed off before pursing his lips, tongue in cheek and looking everywhere but at her. "'S temptin', but... I can't do that to you."

Y/N only stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You've been drinkin' all night." His tone left little room for negotiation, but she was on the edge of taking offense. "I know you don’t seem drunk, but if your judgment isn't all the way there, it's not happenin'. G'night, sweetheart."

She was still standing in stunned silence when he turned to walk back the way he came, but when he started retreating in her field of vision, she called after him, "Hang on." To her relief, he looked back at her quizzically, footsteps stalling on the snow-coated sidewalk, and she took a step toward him. "I've been drinking seltzer water and fruit juice all night, Thomas," she said, and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "So if you're not interested, you don't need to make excuses, but I'm asking you while perfectly sober."

Her stomach seemed to be trying to turn itself inside-out as she waited anxiously for him to respond; the calculated way he looked her over only exacerbated the feeling. "Have you had anything to drink tonight?"

"Next to nothing." The pause between them was heavy, both their minds racing but far from in consensus. "Your move, Thomas."

Not three seconds passed before he was striding toward her decisively, and she inhaled sharply when his arm snaked around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek, thumb sweeping over the expanse of skin. She was flush against his chest, too surprised to even react, her hands resting at his upper chest, and her eyes widened when she felt his cheekbone brush against the crown of her head. He tilted his head down to look at her, his lips hardly a hair away from the top of her ear. She could feel his breath down her neck, setting her nerves alight. "Can I kiss you?"

Her answer was immediate. "Please."

And before she had time to think, his lips were on hers; he was tangling a hand into her hair. He wasted no time in starting to walk her back toward her building, steadying her with a firm grip on her waist as she stumbled backward.

She yelped when her heel hit the bottom step up to her building's door, and she broke the kiss, then clinging to his shoulders in an effort not to fall, struggling to hold her weight on her legs as she lifted one foot onto the first step. Both their chests were heaving, and Thomas wore a wry grin.

"I've been wantin' to do that since I sent you that martini," he murmured, dipping down to kiss along her jawline, and Y/N let out a breathy chuckle.

"So you had to wait, what, three hours?" she retorted, tone dry. "Oh, how you've suffered."

"Had to wait three hours too long," he corrected her, and before she could jab back at him, his mouth again found hers. She moaned against him when he bit down lightly on her bottom lip, responding in kind by rolling her tongue teasingly against his. It was too much and yet still, not enough. His hands were all over her; she couldn't focus on how his body felt pressed into hers as the sensation quickly overwhelmed her, and when his grip on her hip tightened, she gasped into his mouth.

"Thomas, wait, I--" She was cut off before she could get the thought out. "Thom-- Mmh--!" He kissed her ardently, reveling in her response to his touch every bit as much as she was reveling in the feeling of it. Regardless, she pulled back, looking him in the eye, and held him off with a hand on his chest. "Let's go in. I'd rather be somewhere a lot warmer and a little more..." --she traced a finger down the lapel of his designer coat with a sly smile, finally using it to pull him closer-- "...private."

"Don't have to tell me twice." He split from her, tugging her alongside him and up the stairs by her hand, and her eyes widened at his frantic movements. She didn't even flinch at first, stunned by how abrupt the action had been, but when he glanced back over his shoulder at her, her fingers already linked between his, she drew in a shuddering breath.

"Let's go."

From there, their night was a blur of heavy jeans and chunky sweaters being scattered across Y/N's bedroom, their coats discarded and long forgotten not three feet past her apartment door. Whatever gods were above seemed to have smiled on her; she and Dolley both striking it lucky on the same night felt too perfect for it to be coincidental, especially as Y/N's bedroom door slammed loudly behind them, her body pinned against its interior moments later.

Every impatient touch was ablaze, brimming with fireworks and crave as her eager hands found their way up his shirt, his curls bouncing when he pulled it over his head.

It was all reckless, every second of it, but as Y/N saw it, what was the worst that could happen? The occasional uncomfortable run-in with Thomas if they passed on the street? That was beyond worth her evening of adrenaline. She gasped when he pushed her back onto her mattress, climbing on immediately after her.

"Thomas," she moaned, threading her fingers into his curls as his lips worked their way down her neck.

"What is it, sweetheart? Hm?"

She squealed when he nipped at her sensitive skin, nails digging into his upper back, but her tense muscles relaxed as he began sucking a hickey into the same spot a moment later. "I need you. Please."

She could feel his smile against her skin, the vibrations of his light chuckle. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." He pulled back as the pads of his fingers dug into her hips, and she inhaled sharply. His eyes were shining, predatory and smug. "How could I say no?"

——————

COME THE NEXT morning -- or, really, the next afternoon -- Y/N was grateful to have escaped without a hangover, completely absent a headache, the light of day not even a bother as it glared past her curtains. However, the minute she tried to sit up, she realized that she certainly had a backache, and she wasn't entirely convinced her legs would be willing to work when she tried to stand.

Realization struck her a moment later; she winced as she sat bolt upright, ignoring the ache in her shoulders when she lunged for her phone. Oh, shit.

"Thomas," she hissed, shoving his snoring body through her comforter. "Thomas, wake up."

He sniffed as he shifted in her bed, trying to speak through his heavy yawn. "What's goin' on?"

"What's going on is that it's almost two o'clock." Her scowl was deep-set as she shoved the covers off of herself, paying him little mind as she began to root through her drawers for something to wear. "And you need to go. I have somewhere to be."

It hadn't occurred to her to be self-conscious as she paced through her room, but when she turned back to see Thomas's lazy stare following her still-naked body, she could feel her cheeks flare. "Get dressed."

"Alright, alright," he said, sleep still heavy in his voice as he reached for his phone where he'd discarded it on his long-abandoned jeans. She didn't see it, busy pulling on underwear and yanking on a hoodie over her the heavily-marked skin of her chest. "Fuck. I'm gonna be late."

She rolled her eyes when his own panic was finally what kicked him into gear, as he began shoving his legs back into his pants in a frenzy. "Jesus, do I need to get home," he muttered to himself, unsteadily typing something into his phone with one hand as he struggled to buckle his belt with the other. "Sorry for crashin', I--"

"It's fine; it was late as all hell," Y/N cut him off, too preoccupied to concern herself with what'd happened the night prior. She was clinging to the desperate hope that her laptop might not be dead as she dug through he drawers for its charger. "When you find all your stuff, you can just go."

"Alright. I..." He glanced to her hesitantly, pausing in his quest to put himself back together before he could flee with his dignity and whatever plans he had for that afternoon still intact. She glanced at him inquisitively in his silence. "I'll see you around, Y/N."

She offered him a small smile before he returned to trying to dig up his sweater, completely oblivious to where he could've possibly tossed it. "Let's hope so."

Those were all the words exchanged before she ducked into her bathroom, began running the shower, and wiped her smeared mascara from where it'd been running down her cheeks. Thomas left with no more pomp or circumstance.

She hardly had time to fix her appearance after she showered, doing the bare minimum before she rushed back to check on the charge her laptop had left. 74% would be enough to make it through her first lecture, right? She didn't waste a second on dwelling.

Her first class was, to her dismay, halfway across campus from her apartment. She hardly slipped into the lecture hall in time, the clock striking 2:59 PM as she took a seat toward the back, quietly greeting the person in the seat beside her as they glanced up from their phone. Maybe her rolling up less than sixty seconds before the lecture began wasn't exactly the best first impression for her, coming in as a 2nd semester junior at a new college, but she'd managed to beat Professor Jefferson, so it appeared she was safe.

It was 3:03 when he showed up; Y/N had just finished convincing the fan on her laptop to stop shrieking, had found a pen nestled into the deepest depths of her bag. She was scrolling absentmindedly through Twitter when the back doors of the lecture hall were thrown open one final time. She didn't look up at first, but his voice made her eyes widen.

"Afternoon, everybody. Hope you've all been doin' well through the long winter." His voice was upbeat as he padded down the carpeted steps toward the desk at the front of the room.

Y/N was fairly sure she was going to be sick, and unfortunately, she had no hangover to chalk it up to. Disbelief permeated her every shaky breath, the feeling trounced only by dread. Her throat had gone dry.

"For anyone who doesn't know me, I'm Professor Jefferson. I started in the political science department this last fall," he said as he reached the floor, loud voice projected through every corner of the hall, tone joking when he added, "And for anyone who's eventually gonna ask, I promise 'm well aware of how young I am."

When he turned around, Y/N's worst fears were realized -- though, she was certainly surprised at how put-together he looked, having left her apartment just one short hour earlier.

"I've spent the past few years workin' in government, but I'm glad to be back in classrooms, even if I'm on the other side of 'em." He set his briefcase down on his desk, looking the room over as he withdrew his papers, opened his laptop. Y/N was sinking progressively further and further down in her chair. "I trust you've all done the assigned readin'?"

He was met with a scattered chorus of yeses and halfhearted noises of affirmation, and he chuckled. "Well, 'm glad to hear you enjoyed 'em so much."

She wasn't sure whether his words being met with soft laughs dispersed throughout the room was because of the sarcasm sitting heavy in his words, or instead because of how contagious his bright grin was.

"Alright, alright, the enthusiasm'll get there. Feel free to pull up the syllabus on whatever you've got with you, but it'll be projected up here as we go through it." The class sounded slightly more awake by then, and while it surely wasn't everyone, Y/N felt confident enough that a decent fraction of the noise was her classmates murmuring with disbelief about how this was their professor, no doubt interspersed with jokes about suddenly taking an intimate interest in political philosophy, capped off with a wink.

But she was no one to judge. Despite being unsure whether her heart was trying to beat its way through her ribcage or if it'd altogether stopped, when Thomas leaned against the front of the desk, arms folded and ankles crossed, she couldn't bring herself to regret the events of the past sixteen hours -- were she given a chance to turn back time, it was a mistake she'd readily make again.

"I'll take any questions as we go on through it," he continued, but that time, as he scanned the crowd, Y/N's luck seemed to have run out. However, though she'd been given the luxury of a gradual realisation, the inevitable punch in the gut of recognition hit him all at once. His eyes locked onto hers, immediately going wide, his expression dropping to one of alarm, and she held his gaze warily.

His silence was a fraction of a second too long, long enough to raise questions, before his self-awareness kicked in, and he picked his jaw up off the floor. The smile he plastered on was riddled with unease. "Hope everything in the course description was clear. I have no doubt this'll be an... excitin' semester."

He played off his shock easily, falling back into his upbeat persona, but as he went on, Y/N felt lucky she'd already read the syllabus — she didn't process a single word out of his mouth. The class was three hours long, and only five minutes into the first day, she’d apparently already slept with her professor.

If this was the semester she had ahead of her, then, well... 'exciting' was certainly a word for it.

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missmarthamanning · 3 years

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Which ship fanfic would you like to see next?

Dolley Todd x James Madison

Elizabeth Sanders x Hercules Muligan

Queen Charlotte x King George III

On this channel I'll only be writing historical pairing's that actually exicsted sorry!

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jefferoni-quotes · 4 years

Note

72?

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so

I’m a massive shipper! So here we go!

Hamilton

JeffMads

Jamilton

Mullette

Marliza

Hamilton (historical ships)

Thomartha (kill me I love them)

Hamliza

Lafdrienne

James Madison x Dolley Madison

Hercules Mulligan x Elizabeth Sanders-Mulligan

Good Omens

Ineffable Husbands

Ineffable Bureaucracy

Starkid Musicals

Mother x Father (Trail To Oregon)

Cletus Jones x McDoon (Trail To Oregon)

Paul x Emma (The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals)

Tedgins (Ted x Professor Hidgens) (The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals)

I think that’s it! I’m not sure if there’s any more but yeah!

#ask #answer #ee #ee answers #ee talks #ee.txt #starkid #team starkid #hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #hamilton: the musical #good omens #gomens #goodomens #ships #anon #anonymous

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washingdone-with-your-shit-blog · 7 years

Photo

James Madison's birthday, and his babs want to show him love.

#james madison #dolley madison #thomas jefferson #jeffmads #doljeffmads #ot3 #happy birthday Jemmy #dolley x james #Thomas x james #Thomas x james x dolley #hamilton the musical

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aspumoni · 4 years

Text

Genealogy

How is John Marshall (1755-1835), chief justice of the Supreme Court of the United States of America, 1801-1835, related to -~-~ Dolley Payne (1768-1849), wife of James Madison (1751-1836), 4th President of the United States of America, 1809-1817?

Charles Fleming + Susanna Tarleton

1659-1717 1661-1717

Judith Fleming Anne Fleming

1689-x 1705-1778

+ +

Thomas Randolph Josias Payne

1683-1729 1705-1784

| |

(continues to … ) (continues to … )

| |

John Marshall Dolley Payne

1755-1835 1743-1849

#history #genealogy #john marshall #supreme court of the united states #dolley payne #james madison #president of the united states

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yo-la-gusanito · 5 years

Text

Por y para siempre (Jefferson x lector) parte 2

Estan todos celebrando el actual compromiso,y tu hermana Peggy te agarra de las manos y empiezan a girar.

"Dios nunca crei que esto seria posible"dices soltando unas risas.

"Sabes yo pensaba lo mismo pero adivina quien esta por ser madre"dise susurrando lo ultimo.

Sueltas un grito para luego abrazar a tu hermana"felicidades mi hermosa,esto voy a contarle a Thomas"sales dirigida a Thomas que esta con el señor Washington y Hamilton"amor,tengo algo qye contarte"respondes agarrando su brazo.

"Bueno señora Jefferson,soy todo oidos"te sigue y lo gias hacia peggy.

"Se podria desir de que ya vas a tener otro sobrino mas"responde entre risas.

"Peggy?"pregunta y ella asiente para luego Thomas abrazarla"felicidades"

"Si y ya quiero recibir una noticia asi de ustedes"responde poniendo sus manos en sus caderas.

Ustedes se quedan callados para luego simplemente reirse y negar con la cabeza diciendo que falta mucho para eso.

(...)

A la mañana te despiertas viendo a un Thomas sin ropa cubierto perfectamente con una sabana desde la sintura para abajo.

Por otro lado no puedes evitar sonrrojarte debido a los recuerdos de la noche pasada.

"Buen dia amor"responde Thomas poniendo sus manos alrededor de tu cintura"dormiste bien mi amor"

Te giras para mirarlo"dormi bien y vos"prehuntas pasando sus manos por su cabello.

"Si"luego de eso te levantas"que pasa?"

"Voy a hacer el desayu-"sos cortada por los brazos de Thomas que te tiran hacia la cama.

Se pone a orcadas tuyas"el desayuno puede esperar"empieza a dejar besos por tu cuello"pero por otro lado un segundo roud no estara mal"

(...)

Estas tomando una taza de te junto a Dolley Madison.

"Entonses nuestros esposos estan encontra de Hamilton?"pregunta tranquilamente.

"Si,el esta totalmente extresado con el cada noche que vuelve de el congreso no puede evitar maldesirlo"agarras una galleta para darle una mordida.

"Lo mismo digo solo que mi pobre James se altera y empieza a toser hasta ser incapaz de respirar,le digo que no valla al trabajo pero dice que el estara bien"

"Hombre"dicen al unicion.

(...)

"Señorita Jefferson hay una carta de su marido"responde tu sirvienta entrando a la sala de estar donde te encuentras tocando el piano.

"Oh,gracias"responde dejando de tocar para abrir la carta.

Mi querida T/n.

Me temo informar que nuestra querida hermana Peggy se acaba de ir de nuestro lado para pasar a una mejor-

No puedes seguir la lectura debido a que tus ojos ya estan repletos de lagrimas.

"Tube que estar para ella"te dices a ti misma"soy una pesima hermana"te susurras para luego salir corriendo a tu abitacion y empacar todo para el futuro funeral.

(...)

Acabas de volver de la consulta de el medico,debido a tu actual retraso de tres semanas,y como tus dudas le atinaron estas embarazada ahora solo queda pensar en como decircelo a Thomas.

"Y como salio?"pregunta Angelica que se encuentra en su casa.

"Estoy embarazada y no se como lo tomara Thomas"respondes agarrando tu estomago.

"Mi hermanita,tranquila el estara feliz pero si de lo contrario"se suena las manos"yo me encargare de eso"

Ries levemente "bueno,pero se lo dire anoche"

(...)

"Amor"respondes entrando al cuarto que comparten,tu en tu camizon y el en su pillama.

"Que sucede amor?"pregunta apoyandoce en sus codos mientras tu te acuestas al lado de el.

"Estoy embarazada"sueltas de una si hacer rodeos.

El se queda en shock para luego mirar a el cuadro gigante de la foto de su boda.

"Thomas?"preguntas al sentir los brazos de este alrededor de tu cuerpo.

"No sabes lo feliz qie estoy,vamos a ser padre T/n"responde con lagrimas en los ojos"va a haber cositas que nos llamen mama y papa"apreta un poco mas el abrazo y luego se tira con usted a la cama"soy el hombre mas feliz de el mundo"dice entre risas.

(...)

"Mami el tio Hamilton esta en el periodico"te afirma tu hija Martha de cinco años,corriendo hacia tu junto con su hermana menos Mari de cuatro.

"Como que el tio Hamilton esta en el periodico?"preguntas mientras te agachas a su estatura.

"Si mira"apunta con su dedito"El Panfleto Reynolds"

"Lo leyeron?"preguntas agarrando el articulo.

"Nop"responden en unicion y se quedan paradas frente a ti esperando una respuesta pero se distraen debio a el ruido de las cabras que compro tu esposo hace tiempo y salen corriendo para ir a jugar con estas.

"Que es esto..."comienzas a leerlo y te quedas helada debido a la gran cantidad de informacion innecesaria"se acaba de acabar con sigo mismo..."apretas el folleto"ese idiota no se saldra con la suya"luego de eso agarras un saco y vas a el carruaje mas cercano.

(...)

"Señor Hamilton,la señora Jefferson quiere hablar con usted"le avisa un sirviente en vos alta para luego retirarce.

"Que!"responde tu marido con dudas.

"Lo mismo digo Jefferson"responde Alexander para luego salir y encontrarte de espaldas a el"T/n no sabes lo feliz que estoy por de verte"dice caminando hacia vos.

"Me encantaria decir lo mismo Alexander"respondes dandote vuelta para lansarle el folleto en bola de papel a la cara.

El abre el papel y se queda helado" yo,T/n,enserio yo no quise-"

"Porque,se lo tubiste que decir a todo el mundo"das un paso serca xe el"porque Alexander porque HAMILTON"respondes alterada.

"Tu esposo me obligo-"estira sus brazos.

"Que,mi esposo te obligo a acostarte con ella"preguntas ya mas serca de el "mi esposo puede ser culpable de un millon de cosas pero no de donde decidiste meter tu pene,idiota"te das vuelta para mirar un cuadro de George Washington "es verdad,nunca satisfecho estaras"te das vuelta y lo encaras otr vez"no te vasto con Angélica o Eliza que fuiste a por otra,dios"

"T/n... yo-"

"A partir de hoy señor Hamilton,para usted yo sere la señora Jefferson y eso cabiara cuando mi hermana lo perdone por tal estupidez"luego de eso para dejar en claro tu posición te le metes una cachetada en la mejilla para luego irte.

(...)

"Arder..."escuchas a Eliza desde la parte de arriba de la casa.

"No va a estar bien no?"preguntas.

"No,su Hamilton se paso esta vez"responde Angélica.

(...)

"Jefferson tiene mi voto"

En el momento que escuchas a tu cuñado anunciar eso vas corriendo a los brazos de tu marido seguida por tus hijas,donde se reúnen en un abrazo familiar.

"Felicidades mi amor"respondes dándole un beso en la mejilla.

(...)

"Lo lamento señora Jefferson, sufrió de un aborto involuntario"dice la enfermera para luego ir a buscar a tu marido,dejándote en un shock.

"Amor yo..."dice Thomas pero se calla al verte con los ojos llenos de lagrimas,y va corriendo a la cama a abrazarte.

"Perdón"gritas entre el llanto y los espasmos de tu cuerpo.

"Amor no es tu culpa,estas cosas pasan porque si"te aprieta un poco mas en el abrazo"ya esta,va a haber mas oportunidades"luego de eso el deposita un beso en tus labios.

(...)

"Se fue"dice Eliza soltando lagrimas"se fue con su hijo"

Toses levemente"Eliza el esta en un mejor lugar,piensa que esta con todos sus sere queridos"pones su mano en su hombro.

Se levanta levemente y luego se gira"tienes razon no me voy a quedar de brazos cruzados,contare su historia"luego de eso van a su biblioteca.

(...)

Caes en una fuerte enfermedad,segun los doctores esto fue causado por el aborto involuntario.

Tus hermanas acaban de salir y actualmente estas hablando con tus hijas de 25 y 24 junto a tus nietos de unos pocos años.

"Madre,sabes que te amamos no?"pregunta Mari.

"Si mi pequeña,me lo dijiste siempre"respondes dándole una mano a cada uno de ellas.

"Te amo,sos muy joven para-"interrumpes a Martha

"Shhh,las cosas pasan por algo pero pueden llamar a su padre"

Tus hijas asienten para luego salir y dejar entrar a Thomas.

"Mi amor"responde corriendo hacia la cama y agarra tu mano"dios por favor eres muy joven para-"es interrumpido por sus propias lagrimas.

"Mon amour"le dices sabiendo perfectamente que entiende lo que dices"s'il vous plaît ne réfléchissez pas, allez-y et guidez cette belle nation vers sa gloire(porfavor no te estanques sigue adelante y guía a esta hermosa nación hacia su gloria)

"Je t'aime T/n,Je t'aime de toute mon âme et même si tu n'aimes pas ça, je jure devant Dieu que je ne me remarierai jamais(te amo con toda mi alma y aunque no te guste,juro por dios que nunca mas me casare)"besa tu mano levemente.

Sueltas una leve risa"no me molesta,es mas me alaga poder ser la única señora Jefferson"

Luego de eso Thomas empieza a decir palabras las cuales no puedes entender debido a que poco a poco se escuchan mas lejos, ves como empieza a llorar con mas fuerza que nunca para luego empezar a ver brillos blanco y por ultimo todo negro.

Thomas suelta un gritos desgarrador para luego agarrar tu mano con mas fuerza que nunca" te amor T/n Schuyler Jefferson,te amo y te amaré para siempre".

#Thomas Jefferson x lector #Thomas Jefferson x reader #Thomas Jefferson x lector parte 2 #Thomas Jefferson x lector part 2 #Hamilton #Love #triste #hamiltime

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thundercaya · 6 years

Note

Could you please write some Dollmads? understand if you don't want to😊

James Madison supposed he might be the only person in the world who didn’t like going on vacation. He was certainly the only person in his family who didn’t. Some vacations were necessarily worse than others, but while he was glad he wouldn’t have to worry about freezing to death like on their winter trip to the mountains, James was still not enjoying his week at the beach.

James was seated in a beach chair with a useless umbrella attachment that was currently shading a spot a couple feet away from the chair. He was wearing swimming trunks only because he knew his family would mock him if he wore pants to the beach, but he also had a t-shirt on, and no intention of getting in the water. Instead he was penning a letter to his best friend, Thomas Jefferson. He could do this just as well in the hotel but his parents refused to leave him there, as if that were the worst way he could spend the vacation. At least he wasn’t trying to sneak off with older boys and get drunk like Frank did on their spring getaway.

A shadow fell over James and his first thought was that it was one of his siblings, but when he looked up instead he saw a girl around his age in a sport swimsuit, a cover up tied around her waist.

“Hi,” she said. “Can I borrow your pen when you’re done with it?”

“Uh, sure,” James said, hoping she wasn’t going to do something like write her number on his arm. “Give me a minute.” He finished up the letter then handed over the pen.

“Thanks!” the girl said. She took the pen over to a nearby picnic table where she began drawing on a beach resort brochure.

James stood up from his chair and headed over to her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making a treasure map for a bunch of kids that look like you. Your brothers and sisters?”

James glanced over his shoulder to where the other kids were playing at the edge of the water.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “You don’t have to do that, though. If they’re bothering you I can tell them to leave you alone.”

“It’s no bother,” the girl insisted. “It sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

James supposed that at one time he would have enjoyed a game like that. “I guess.”

The girl smiled at him. “Glad to hear that! I need you to hide the treasure.”

“What?”

“This map is going to take a while. I’m sure they’ll be eager to start by the time I’m finished. So you need to go hide the treasure.”

“What treasure? Hide it where?”

“Some pretty shells, I guess. Some good rocks. I’m sure you can find them. And I’m putting the X behind the third lifeguard tower, so bury them there.”

“Hold on, I can’t bury them behind a lifeguard tower. The lifeguard will see me.”

“So?” the girl shrugged. “It’s not illegal.”

“What if he asks me what I’m doing?”

“Tell him?”

James had no response for that, just like he had no idea how this girl he’d just met had roped him into her plan without even exchanging a proper introduction.

“What’s your name?” James asked finally.

“Dolley. And the little you’s said your name is Jimmy.”

“Ignore them. It’s James.”

Finding the shells was more of an ordeal than James was hoping. There weren’t very many good ones in the dry sand so he had to get his feet wet. He kept checking over his shoulder to make sure none of his siblings were sneaking up on him, but they seemed to be entertaining themselves by burying Ambrose near Dolley’s picnic bench and pestering her about when the map would be ready.

Once James had gotten a decent haul, he made his way over to the selected lifeguard tower. He hoped none of his siblings would see him burying the treasure, but then again the final location would be obvious enough once they had the map in front of them, and clearly the journey was more important to the kids than the destination, or else why bother Dolley for a map at all? When James arrived back at the table, she had already finished up.

“Is it ready?” Nelly asked, holding the map. “Can we go?”

“Yeah,” James said. “Go ahead.”

The kids took off immediately with the exception of Frank.

“Well?” James asked “What are you waiting for?” He was hoping to talk to Dolley.

“I’m not doing a stupid fake treasure hunt. I know you put the shells behind the lifeguard tower.”

“Well, you’re the only one old enough to look after Billy, so you have to go anyway.”

“You’re old enough, too.”

“I have to watch our bags. Just go with the kids or I’ll tell dad you made up botany club so you could hang out with the stoners after school.”

Frank bristled, then Dolley put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Why don’t we all go?” she suggested. “The kids can all carry their own bags and pretend they’re supplies. We can make up challenges for them as we go along. It could be fun.”

Well, James supposed he could talk to Dolley just as well on a treasure hunt as at a picnic table. “Okay,” he said. “Frank, help me carry the bags until we catch up.”

Frank wasn’t as disinterested in the journey as he let on, coming up with most of the challenges. The kids seemed to enjoy them even if they were rather simple things like walking backwards to avoid making eye contact with mermaids who turned people into stone or walking in each other’s footprints to avoid traps. In fact they were so into the game that they don’t seem to care when James and Dolley settled at a nearby picnic table.

“So what did the lifeguard say when you buried the treasure?” Dolley asked.

“He just told me that if someone else dug it up first, he wasn’t going to stop them.”

“That’s fair. I think we’ll be okay, though. Did you get enough for everyone?”

“I got as much as I could carry, but trust me, they’ll probably still fight over particular ones.”

“I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble by indulging them with their treasure hunt.”

James shrugged. “It’s fine. They always find something to fight about regardless, and I didn’t have anything else to do once I finished writing my letter.”

“Is that what you were writing?” Dolley asked. “That’s cool. Not a lot of people write letters these days.”

“My best friend and I exchange letters pretty regularly. It was his idea. He’s kind of extra, but it is kind of fun to get stuff in the mail so I don’t mind.”

“Maybe you could send me something sometime.”

That would have been a good time to ask for some kind of contact information, but James couldn’t seem to find the words to do so. After too long of a silence he said; “So are you here with your family?”

“My mom and my sister. They’re doing a spa day today, but it sounded boring to me so I just decided to have a beach day by myself.

“I wish I could have gotten some time for myself on this vacation,” James said.

“You’re not in charge of all these kids the whole time you’re here, are you?” Dolley asked. “They’re sweet, but I’m sure they’re a lot.”

“It’s only for today. My parents always set aside one kid-free day in their vacation, but even when I’m not in charge I am expected to participate in family stuff.”

Dolley smiled. “Do you think if you asked your parents they’d let you hang out tomorrow without an entourage?”

“Today’s actually our last day. We check out in the morning.”

Dolley’s smiled dropped. “Oh. That’s too bad.”

As predicted, the kids had a bit of trouble dividing the treasure, but with a quick run back to the water, James and Dolley were able to grab enough nice shells to appease them all. They were wrapping their hauls in their respective towels when Mrs. Madison appeared.

“There you kids are,” she said. “It’s time for dinner.”

There was some grumbling from the kids, who would rather remain playing, but they knew better than to actually argue with their mom and so said their goodbyes to Dolley.

“Oh, who’s your new friend?” Mrs. Madison asked.

“This is Dolley,” James said. “She helped me entertain everyone today.”

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, honey,” Mrs. Madison said to Dolley. “I hope they didn’t bother you too much.”

“Not at all,” Dolley assured. Turning to smile at James she said; “I had a great time today.” James smiled back automatically, then his eyes flicked over to his mother, who had a knowing smirk on her face.

“Jimmy, baby, did you still want to get your own dinner tonight?” she asked.

“Uh….” James began, having asked his mother no such thing, but trying his best to pick up the baton she was passing him. “Yes, if that’s okay.”

“It’s fine, baby. Just don’t stay out too late.”

“Aw, how come Jimmy gets to stay out?” Sarah asked.

“Because Jimmy took care of you today and deserves a break. Come on, babies. Let’s go.”

While the others made their way back to the hotel, James turned towards Dolley.

“So… did you want to go to the hot dog stand?”

It was a bit chilly in the evening, though the sun hadn’t yet set. James regretted ordering a cold drink with his hot dog, though he was glad that Dolley had let him treat her.

“I’m really good at finding treasure,” James had insisted. “I can handle paying for a milkshake.”

They talked about school mostly. What classes they were talking next year and where they wanted to go to college. James was thinking Princeton and Dolley was hoping to find out what the other coast was like.

“It’ll probably get lonely being away from your family and friends,” James said. “You have to make sure you stay in touch. Maybe you could write letters?”

Dolley laughed. “I’ll probably just text them. But if you wanted to write me letters, I’d gladly accept them”

James pulled a piece of paper out of his bag and ripped it in half. “Here,” he said, sliding one half over to Dolley along with a pen. “Give me your address and I’ll give you mine. And if we go away to college, we’ll trade dorm addresses.”

Dolley grinned, jotting the address down. “I’m glad you think we’ll still be writing then. That’s over a year from now.”

“It’s always good to think ahead,” James said. “I like having a plan.”

“Planning is good,” Dolley agreed, sliding the pen and paper back to James. He started to write down his own address as Dolley continued. “But sometimes I prefer to be spontaneous.”

James looked up to ask her what she meant when suddenly she crashed her lips into his. He dropped the pen in surprise, but it was just as well, since once he caught up to what was happening, he laced that hand into her hair.

“Hey, no hanky panky,” the hot dog guy said.

James pulled away from the kiss, face burning.

“This place is literally called Hanky’s Hot Dog Hut,” Dolley retorted.

“Hey, I just work here,” the guy said. “If you want to make out, try under the pier like everyone else.”

James didn’t think that was such a bad idea.

#hamilton #dollmads #james madison #dolley madison #modern au #high school au #my boy madison #writing #push to 2k #sorry this took so long #Anonymous

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smoljamesmadison · 7 years

Conversation

Jefferson: Let me guess, you and Dolley are having problems, and you want me to teach you how to kiss?

Madison: What? No, stop that.

Jefferson: Oh.

Madison: I know how to kiss, I've read books.

#jeffmadsey #jeffmads #madison x dolley #thomas jefferson #james madison #dolley madison #incorrect hamilton quotes #original: brooklyn nine nine #tjeffs #jmads #dmads

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sonofhistory · 7 years

Note

I think the ghost asking anon means they wonder if you have ever looked into reports/claims of the founding fathers appearing as spirits. Such as the popular beliefs of Lincoln still roaming the White House and George Washington riding a horse through Gettysburg.

I heard Benjamin Franklin’s ghost has been claimed to haunt the Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. A cleaning lady in 1880 said she had an accounted with his ghost and this was not in the age were one were prone to concoct stories as such. He ghost has supposedly also been seen outside of the building–apparently he was doing a “jig”. You can read more about this here.

Josiah Quincy III claimed to have a spiritual interaction while at Mount Vernon in the early part of the 19th century. Quincy had visited Mount Vernon to meet with Bushrod Washington, George Washington’s nephew in the spring of 1806 and it was a story that he himself had not remembered due to his age, however, it circulated around the family. Quincy was staying in Washington’s bedroom–the room where he also died. While staying in the room, his father supposedly saw Washington’s ghost. You can read more about this here. His ghost has been sighted in six different locations. You can read more about this here.

A few have reported seeing the ghost of John Adams at his home in Quincy, near Boston where it is said to be rather “glum”. You can read more about this here. The ghost of Abigail Adams has reportedly been seen hurrying toward the East Room of the White House, which is where she used to hang her laundry [x]. She can be recognized by the cap and lace shawl she favored in life. It is also said John Quincy Adams haunts the House of Representatives where he died. You can read about that here.

It has been reported that Thomas Jefferson plays his violin in the yellow room and his ghost has been seen a few times around the halls [x]. There have also been reports of people witnessing Jefferson’s ghost wandering the grounds and whistling, something that Jefferson was prone to doing as he toured the property [x].

There are no records of a James Madison ghost ever been seen anywhere but a few times at his plantation Montepelier in Virginia. You can read more about this here, however, the ghost of Dolley Madison sure enough has. Apparently, when the second wife of Woodrow Wilson, Edith Wilson, occupied the White House, she ordered gardeners to dig up the Rose Garden that Dolley had planted nearly a century ago. They never started because her ghost arrived to upbraid the workmen for what they were about to do to which the men fled from the scene. Not a flower was disturbed and Dolley’s garden continues to bloom today. You can read more about this here. She also haunts the Octagon house.

Alexander Hamilton possibly haunts the home where he was initially brought after being shot in a duel with Aaron Burr; 27 Jane Street. The tennant says she has been aware of footsteps, creaking stairs, and the opening and closing of doors; and even the unexplained flushing of a toilet. On one occasion, she found the toilet chain still swinging, when there was no one around. She also has seen a blurred “shape,” without being able to give details of the apparition; her upstairs tenant reports that one night not so long ago, “a man in eighteenth-century clothes, with his hair in a queue” walked into her room, looked at her and walked out again. You can read more about this here.

The ghost of James Monroe has been sighted around Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia where he is buried. Monroe’s ghost has been said to rub his left shoulder as if reminiscing from when he was shot at the Battle of Trenton. His ghost is said to be calm and undramatic. The ghost of Monroe lingered in the Marble Cemetery in Lower Manhattan where he was initially buried in New York before sightings changed to where he was again laid to rest twenty-seven years later in a different place. There have been no sighting of Monroe at the White House or of his wife, Elizabeth Monroe, however, their two daughters Maria Hester Monroe Gouveneur and Eliza Monroe Hay are sometimes seen at the White House. Eliza’s ghost showed up during James Buchanan’s presidency and was rude, popped up out of no where and rearranged cards. Maria has been seen at the Decateur House where she appears distraught. You can read more about this here.

#I loved doing this one #Flood pressles box #sincerely anonymous

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papermoonloveslucy · 7 years

Text

LUCY CUTS VINCENT’S PRICE

S3;E9 ~ November 9, 1970

Directed by Herbert Kenwith ~ Written by Martin Ragaway

Synopsis

Lucy mistakenly buys a painting at an auction and brings it to art connoisseur actor Vincent Price to be appraised. Price thinks Lucy is an actress coming to audition for his new horror movie and terrorizes Lucy in his study turned laboratory.

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carter), Gale Gordon (Harrison Otis Carter), Desi Arnaz Jr. (Craig Carter) and Lucie Arnaz (Kim Carter)

Guest Cast

Vincent Price (Himself) was born in May 1911, just nine weeks before Lucille Ball. He made his screen debut in 1938, and after many minor roles, he began to perform in low-budget horror movies, where he would make his mark on the horror genre. Three days before this episode first aired, Price guest-starred on ABC's “Love American Style” in a Halloween-themed episode titled “Love and the Haunted House.” His final feature film appearance was in 1990's Edward Scissorhands. Besides acting, his other passions were art and cooking. This is his only time acting opposite Lucille Ball. He died in 1993 at age 82.

Mary Jane Croft (Mary Jane) makes her sixth series appearance as Mary Jane. Croft played Betty Ramsey during season six of “I Love Lucy. ” She also played Cynthia Harcourt in “Lucy is Envious” (ILL S3;E23) and Evelyn Bigsby in “Return Home from Europe” (ILL S5;E26). She played Audrey Simmons on “The Lucy Show” but when Lucy Carmichael moved to California, she played Mary Jane Lewis, the actor’s married name and the same one she uses on all 31 of her episodes of “Here’s Lucy. Her final acting credit was playing Midge Bowser on “Lucy Calls the President” (1977). She died in 1999 at the age of 83.

Tol Avery (Auctioneer) was a Texas-born character actor making his only series appearance. He previously played the toy company owner in “Lucy and the Efficiency Expert” (TLS S5;E13).

Avery the actor is not a skilled auctioneer, so he comically garbles the sped-up bidding process.

Jack Collins (Curt) appeared on the final two episodes of “The Lucy Show” in 1968. He played Russel Slater on “Dallas” from 1982 to 1987. This is the third of his six appearances on “Here’s Lucy.”

Curt is Vincent Price's movie producer.

Jack Berle (Man at Auction, uncredited) was the older brother of Milton Berle. This is one of his eleven uncredited appearances on the series. He previously did two episodes of “The Lucy Show.”

Chester Jones (Man at Auction, uncredited) makes the second of his four background appearances on “Here’s Lucy.”

The other auction attendees are played by uncredited background performers.

When the Auctioneer offers a four poster bed frame from Washington DC, he claims that it was slept in by the Washingtons and the Madisons. Craig jokingly thinks they slept in it at the same time: “George & Martha & James & Dolley.” Embarrassed, Lucy says it will be the first auction rated X. Craig is making a joke based on the 1969 comedy Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, which was filmed at Sunset Gower Studios, the former home of Desilu. The poster for the film depicted all four title characters in the same bed together. Lucille Ball did a satire on the film on “The Carol Burnett Show” in 1969.

Lucy says she previously talked on the phone to Mrs. Vincent Price when arranging entertainment for a big party the Price's threw. In 1970, Vincent Price was married to costume designer Mary Grant (inset photo), although her name is never mentioned here. Making small talk on the telephone, Lucy asks about Little Vicki. This is a reference to the Price's 8 year-old daughter, Victoria. Although Lucy visits their home, both characters remain off-screen.

Syndicated versions of this episode generally cut the entire scene with Kim and Craig fretting over their mother's visit to Price's home. In the scene, Craig is doing a book report on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. This makes them think that Vincent Price may be a bit of a split personality due to all the horror films he makes. The scene was restored to the DVD release.

Price is filming a new horror film titled Who's Afraid of Virginia's Wolfman? He says it has the best title since he starred in The Giant Chihuahua That Ate Chicago. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was a play by Edward Albee that was filmed in 1966 starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. The acting couple guest starred in “Lucy Meets the Burtons” (S3;E1) which was actually filmed after this episode, but aired before it.

Price thinks Lucy is an actress who has come to his home studio to audition for the role of a victim in his new film. He locks her in the study and straps her to an examining table. Lucy's terrified reaction makes Price wonder aloud if she uses the Stanislavski method. Konstantin Stanislavski (1863-1938) was a Russian actor, teacher, and director who developed a method of acting training that is still used today.

When Vincent Price says the painting under the painting could be a Peter Paul Rubens Lucy asks what a Peter Paul and Rubens is worth. Lucy is thinking of the folk music trio Peter Paul & Mary, which was made up of Peter Yarrow, Paul Stookey, and Mary Travers. Between 1962 and 1969 they had three number one hits on the charts including “Puff the Magic Dragon” and “Leavin' on a Jet Plane.” Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640) was a Flemish artist from the Netherlands. He is considered the most influential artist of the Flemish Baroque tradition.

Harry says he could sell the painting to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a tidy profit. Located in New York City, the Metropolitan Museum of Art is the largest art institution in the United States. It was established in 1870 and still welcomes guests today.

At the end of the episode, Price says he charges $250 for art appraisals: “That's Vincent's price!”

In “Paris at Last” (ILL S5;E18) much of the action revolves around a worthless painting bought by Lucy Ricardo on the streets of Paris.

Lucy only goes to the art auction because of the free food and entertainment. This is the same reason Lucy Carmichael attends fashion shows in “Lucy and Pat Collins” (TLS S5;E11).

“The Lucy Show” did a monster-themed episode titled “Lucy and the Monsters” (TLS S3;E18) but instead of airing at Halloween it aired in mid-January.

Props! In a close-up (possibly an insert shot) of the painting in the office, the file card boxes that it sits atop have been arranged in the wrong order: Q-R, S-Z, L-P.

Batter Up! To save her mother from Price's clutches, Kim hits him over the head with a baseball bat that shatters into pieces. A break-away baseball bat? In a living room laboratory? Kim instinctively knows where the bat is and immediately goes to get it.

Title Trouble! The episode's title does not exactly come to pass since Lucy pays Vincent Price's exact fee for art appraisals and does not “cut” his price. The title probably should be “Lucy Pays Vincent's Price”.

“Lucy Cuts Vincent’s Price” rates 2 Paper Hearts out of 5

This is one of those episodes that has Lucy acting childish and silly. The premise is unbelievable enough (filming torture scenes in an actor's home) but it would feel more probable if the Lucy character approached the situation more realistically. Her scene with Harry when she grovels at his feet is just plain embarrassing. Craig and Kim are also written as simpletons when they think actor Vincent Price might somehow also be a fiend because he plays so many predators in films. On the plus side, Price, usually a serious actor, gets the hang of Lucy’s brand of comedy quite easily and plays along with ghoulish glee.

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

voltaire to versace 03 | thomas jefferson TEASER

title: voltaire to versace 03 TEASER

pairing: professor!thomas jefferson x reader

words: a lil over 10k

warnings: sex jokes n references again, dolley simping for james again, but probably more this time, implied sex except dolley’s having it instead of mc, maria and angelica are girlfriends, lafayette is basically everyone’s plug for weed so like,, drug references and alcohol references??

tags: @lunariasilver @tinywhim @nyxie75 @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @checkurwindow @katierpblogg @cubedtriangle @lunariasilver @lexylovesfandoms @fanfic-addict-98 @stephyra17 @notebookgirl30 @exorcisms-with-elmo @kmsmedine @itshaileyn @honeyand-roses — let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

"Are you sure I was included in that invite?" Y/N's voice was skeptical as she crossed the green toward Thomas's office. Apparently, Dolley and James had spent their afternoon together, taking a walk through the city. (When Dolley told Y/N that the two-mile loop near the Lincoln Memorial had taken them two hours to walk through, she had a sneaking suspicion walking wasn't all they were doing. Hopefully, they'd at least escaped the watchful eye of our oversized 16th president.)

"Yes, I'm certain you were," Dolley insisted from the other end of the phone's line. "He said it'd be great if I brought you."

"... This sounds suspiciously like a pity invite."

"It isn't a pity invite!" Y/N could hear the indignance in her voice.

"Dolley, why, exactly, would he want me there if it wasn't a pity invite?"

"... Because you're my best friend, and he's decided to make an effort to get to know you better?"

She laughed. "As much as I appreciate this idealized James Madison, I have a feeling it was more to the effect of 'I just saw your roommate and feel obligated to invite her'," Y/N corrected her. "But go to the party without me! Don't let me hold you back from having your fun, alright?"

"Please come? It wouldn't be the same without you." Dolley's voice was high, containing traces of what almost smelled like desperation. "It'll make me much more comfortable to have you along."

Y/N groaned. "So when you and James go make out in the bathroom, I'm supposed to, what, play truth or dare with all the other PhD candidates?"

"Why not?" Dolley's tone was mild, which made Y/N roll her eyes.

"No offense to James's friends, but I'm not sure I want to spend an evening making stunted small talk with them."

"You're such a warm person, though! You'd be quite alright."

"It'd be awkward!"

"Please, Y/N? I'll beg you if that's what it'll take."

She scowled at how soft, forlorn Dolley's voice had become. As far as she was concerned, this was akin to emotional manipulation. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

"Yes. I like him so much."

She sighed. "I'm gonna say yes solely because I have somewhere to be and can't deal with this argument anymore. But you owe me."

Y/N could almost picture Dolley’s sappy smile. “Thank you so much, dear. You’re too good to me.”

"Yeah, yeah, what else is new?" Her words elicited a laugh from Dolley, and Y/N continued, “But you know I’d do pretty much whatever you asked if you asked it in that I’m-about-to-cry voice, so I’m not sure this relationship is healthy for me anymore.”

“Oh, of course; I’m truly a parasite,” Dolley sighed. “Taking you in as my roommate, paying for your ramen — how evil of me.”

“I pay half the rent, and ramen costs fifty cents!” Y/N defended, but the words were lighthearted nonetheless. “Next time you give up five perfectly good hours of a Friday night so that I can get laid, we’ll call it even.”

“Don’t make any calls about Friday just yet. You haven’t even seen James’s friends.” Dolley’s voice was just teasing enough to placate Y/N. “I may not be the only one having some fun.”

“Have you even seen James’s friends?” Y/N asked dubiously, and Dolley’s silence told her all there was to know. “That’s what I thought. He’s an econ student, so it’s probably gonna be about eighty percent entitled rich men attending school on family money.”

“Or they could all be just your type,” Dolley reasoned, but by then, any efforts to talk Y/N out of her convictions were futile. “Tall, hot, and older.”

“First off, I don’t have a type, and second, just because you’re dating an ‘older man’,” — The final two words were said mockingly — “doesn’t mean that his older friends aren’t still douches.”

“I hate to have to be the one to break it to you, but that is absolutely your type.”

“Based on what?”

“That professor of yours?”

“Dolley!” Y/N scowled, turning down the volume on her call just in case some passing pedestrians were notorious gossips with super-hearing. It was certainly possible. “Can you please stop talking about him like that? Don’t make it a thing,” she murmured, jaw tense.

“Oh, we’re well past that, dear,” Dolley said matter-of-factly, and Y/N could only roll her eyes. “But if you’ve agreed to the party, I won’t push my luck.”

“Smart choice,” she muttered bitterly. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later tonight?”

“Of course.”

With that, she hung up the phone before Dolley could take advantage of her giving mood and start making further outlandish demands, tucking it into her coat pocket as she pushed open the door to Melos Hall. Unfortunately for her, the elevator was broken, and Thomas's office was several flights of stairs above her.

After at least eight long pauses for her to catch her breath, heaving as she leaned against the railing in the stairwell, and three stomach cramps, Y/N knocked on his door. "Anybody home?"

"C'mon in." His voice was soft, muffled through the door, and she opened it to find him all but slumped on his desk, resting his head on his hand as he graded papers he appeared to be rather cross with, and with more of said papers covering the entirety of the desk’s surface (and much of the floor). He glanced up when she entered, and a soft grin split his expression. "Hey, I thought that was you."

"I'm in absolute awe of your pattern-recognition skills, really," she replied, tone dry as she let the door fall shut behind her, and despite the playful smile she wore, Thomas rolled his eyes.

"You actually here for anything, or am I gonna have to kick you out?"

She laughed. "I'm not here to derail your work, I swear." He raised a dubious eyebrow. "I was just stopping by to let you know that, assuming it's still on the table, I'd love the TA position."

"Oh, yeah?" His smile widened almost imperceptibly at her words, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "'M glad to hear it. Could've just shot me an email, though."

She shrugged. "I was headed this way anyway. Figured I may as well stop by."

"I'm not complainin'." She let out a soft huff of laughter at the words, but she could feel heat beginning to creep up the back of her neck. "'S good timing, anyway. Intro to IR just turned in an essay on Kant."

The soft groan she let out only served to amuse him further as she surveyed the wreckage of his office. "That's what all this paper is?" He nodded in confirmation, and she scrunched up her nose. "I'm not sure if I feel worse for the freshmen who had to write them or for you having to read them."

"Well, I should hope it's the freshmen," he said matter-of-factly, sitting back in his chair. The smile he wore was concerningly self-righteous. "'Cause, now, readin' these is your job, too."

Her eyebrows shot up; the dread in her gaze was the furthest thing from contrived. "... Is it too late to rescind my application as a TA?"

He shook his head. "Mm-mm. You're welcome to abandon ship."

She didn't like the satisfaction which grew in his gaze as she weighed her options; they both knew she wasn't considering turning down the position in earnest — that simple fact left Thomas unnecessarily smug. Another beat passed, and she sighed. "You're lucky this is going to look good on my grad school applications."

He laughed. "Sure am. I could use all the help I can get, right now."

"I can see that," she replied, voice laden with amusement at the state of his office.

However, Thomas said nothing more, and she shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with the drawn-out silence. He raised an expectant eyebrow, and it took her a moment to grasp his intention. "Wait... d'you mean, like, right now?"

"Unless you're busy." He shrugged. His gaze was hopeful as she eyed warily the small stack of papers she'd spent the past few minutes trying not to crush under her boot. She sighed.

He grinned when she bent over to pick up the papers that'd floated to her side of the desk. "As depressing as it feels to say, I've got nowhere else to be on this fine Friday night."

"That's the spirit." He winked, and though she rolled her eyes, her amused smile was deep-set. "So, you're gradin' for accuracy and watchin' out for grammar, of course, but the points are really earned for analysis. The paper's on changes in the international system. They’ve gotta connect ‘em back to Kant's maxims."

She let out a low whistle as she took a seat across from him, plucking a red pen from his cup and dropping her bag onto the floor. "That certainly sounds pretentious."

He laughed lightly. "You really tellin' me you didn't have to do anything like this as a freshman?"

"Oh, I wish I could say that, but unfortunately, my professor was apparently every bit the pseudointellectual you are.” She nodded sadly, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

"Hilarious, sweetheart, really." In the dry sarcasm of his tone, the casual pet name didn't seem to register with him, but Y/N couldn't help but notice, and her breath caught. "Here, lemme get you a copy of the rubric. 'S nothin' too complicated; go easy on 'em. Got some STEM majors in the class who're just takin' it for the graduation requirement, so I'm not expectin' much."

She pursed her lips. "Are the essays that bad?"

He deadpanned as he turned back to her, sliding the rubric across the desk. "At least as bad as I'm makin' 'em sound."

Y/N let out a long, dramatic huff, rubbing her temples, and Thomas looked thoroughly entertained at her reaction.

"I'm in for a long few months, aren't I?"

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