I heard someone say that the antidote to chronic consumption is creative contribution, so with that said I'm GOING to write a novel. Hopefully multiple novels. I've had this idea for a while now but I'm officially going to act upon it.
I slowly crept behind the door, creaking the tiniest gap open. There he was, padded in armour with nothing else but his kind smile. His eyes twinkled in the dim light, those pools of honey faced a figure of a woman who I couldn't make out.
“My darling Guinivere from the moment I saw, I knew my heart wouldn't beat the same without you. I have all the riches in the land and yet they mean nothing in comparison to you.” he said with such great earnestness. It was as if a dagger pierced my heart. Why must he have feelings for another? Why can’t he love me? As tears threatened to spill, the huge lump in my throat grew more agonising. As I clasped my hand across my mouth, I opened the door by the smallest inch. My Arthur, my sweet Arthur held sweet adoration in his eyes whilst he crouched on one knee. A small wooden box bearing the most gorgeous ring carved of jade and diamonds shone, just like Guinivere’s smile.
“I love you…desperately. So please would you do me the honour of becoming my wife and Queen of Camelot?”
My heart broke: waterfalls drenched my face, evident creases ruined my dress shirt from clutching it too hard. I need to leave now. I can't let Arthur see me like this. He can't see how much I care.
Grief. The intense sorrow, especially caused by someone's death. No one really prepares you for the mourning of friends. Friends that are still well and alive but aren’t with you. The death of friendships you held so close to heart that you feel a rip in your soul as they pass away. This heartbreak is almost irreparable compared to the fleeting emotions of unrequited love or suppressed depression ; it consumes you in a dark hole of intense loneliness and desperate failure.
I’ve always been envious of people who lived in the time of no technology - a time when passing conversations was enough to connect you: a time where you greet a friend so casually having not seen them for a decade. What happens when old friends meet each other? Did they mutter awkward greetings or welcome each other with soft affection? Or do they simply walk past each other like strangers despite their shared history?
Hey, roomie! Ch. 1
Thomas j. x reader
Modern au!
In which you room with the most insufferable, arrogant man crafted by the devil himself send to personally annoy you.
warnings: swearing, some sexual references, bad writing tbh (not proofread)
word count: 2.7k
Chat this is my first time using tumblr pls be nice idk what I’m doing
“This has to be a joke, right?” Are the first words that come out of your mouth the moment you lay eyes on your new roommate: Thomas Jefferson.
You despised him all throughout college. He was the biggest manwhore on campus, not to mention infuriatingly smart. You’d know because he used to be your lab partner. That’s how you became familiar with him and his affairs with the girls in your class. After meeting him for the first time, his name just became more and more common.
Rumors of how he slept his entire way around campus, flirted with any and every girl in sight circled around. In fact, the first day of class in freshman year, he strutted his way over as if he owned the place before slipping into the chair next to you, giving you a charming smile. It didn’t fool you.
“No jokin’ round here, sweetheart,” his southern drawl seeped through his words as he opened the door wider for you to enter.
You pushed past him with a glare. “Which room is mine?” You grumbled.
He blinked, a wide grin spreading his face. “Right this way. Unless you wanna sleep with me?” He offers with a sickening laugh. You grimace, nose scrunching in disgust.
“No, thanks. It’s enough that I have to live with you, I think I’d drown myself if we had to share a bed.”
“Your loss.” He shrugged, opening the door to what will be your cave for the next…however long. If only you had enough money to move out and find a different roommate—but alas, you already finalized the papers before doing any research as to whom you would be spending your days with.
What a foolish mistake.
With that, he leaves you to get all settled in. He offered a helping hand, which you shot down with an I don’t need your help and trudged boxes up four flights of stairs since the stupid elevator was broken down.
He watched with amusement when you staggered in, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead after the fifth box.
“You sure you got it?” He shifted on the couch, remote in his hand.
“Positive.” You heaved the heaviest and final box into your room, taking a deep breath before getting items unpacked. After a few hours of getting set up and picturing what your life will entail, you finally finished. Your bookshelf was stocked with all your favorites, your walls were covered in posters and pictures were strung on your bulletin board. The room was small, but you turned it from an asylum to a cozy Pinterest vision board in a matter of hours.
You admired your work, flopping on your bed and letting the stress melt away from your back. The peace you felt was soon swept away when a few knocks sounded your door.
“What?” You groaned, and the door creaked open. Thomas popped his head in.
“I got takeout if you’re hungry. Nice room, by the way,” he comments, eyes wandering around the room before he shuts the door.
—
“So, did you seriously not look into who you’d be rooming with?” Thomas asks, shoveling fried rice into his mouth. You shrug, taking a large bite of lo mein.
“I didn’t think I would room with anyone I knew. Especially not you.”
“You seem upset. I’m happy we’re roommates. Are you not?” He flutters his eyelashes, to which you scoff at.
“What do you think?” You snap, poking your fork at some chicken. There’s no way he’s genuinely looking forward to the next few months, possibly years, of hell.
“I dunno, I’d be thrilled to live with me. I think I’m great,” he flashes his pearly whites. Your eyes were getting tired of how many death glares you’ve sent him in one day.
“Congratulations on being the only person to think that,” you give a faux smile before stuffing more noodles into your mouth.
“Oh, c’mon, I’m not that bad. You don’t even know me!” He pouts, giving you puppy dog eyes. A loud, airy laugh escapes you.
“After enduring your shitty attempts at flirting in freshman year? I think I know what type of person you are plenty.” A sharp grin adorns your face as you focus your eyes on the food before you. He huffs, furrowing his eyebrows.
“I’ve changed, okay?” He mumbles. “I can flirt a lot better now. I can score basically any woman ever.” He claims, which causes you to pause to laugh again.
“No way! Any woman in her right mind would never go out with you.”
He narrows his eyes at you, a snarl creeping on his face. “I’ve been with more women than you have. I don’t think you have much room to talk.”
“Uh, probably ‘cause I don’t like women? Let’s use our brains here,” you mock. He rolls his eyes.
“You know what I mean. You haven’t been with more than what, two guys?” He finishes up the fried rice and moves to throw the styrofoam box away.
“You been keeping track or something?”
He stammers, huffing and avoiding eye contact. “Course not. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”
“Whatever you say, Thomas.” You finish up your food as well and throw out the box, crossing your arms as you move back to your room. He sighs behind you, retreating to his room as well and leaving you to your own thoughts.
He was right about you not being with very many men, and that fact hurts. You’re 25 and still single. To be fair, he is too, but he still does get numerous women in his bed at night, and that’s just straight up unfair. It’s not like you weren’t trying to get a boyfriend, either. A goal you have is to settle down with the man you’d deem ‘the one’ and buy a house in a small town, have a couple kids and maybe a dog. The perfect life in your (and your parents) eyes.
The men you’ve met so far on dating apps haven’t been the dream you’re looking for. Don’t get me wrong, some of them were incredibly sweet, but not quite what you have in mind. However, you aren’t a quitter, so if you have to force yourself to find love, so be it.
—
The first two weeks living with Thomas have been as chaotic as you predicted it would be. He was just as lazy as you remember—so full of himself and cocky that he doesn’t believe he has to do real work. It infuriates you.
He officially makes the list of worst roommates in the world. He doesn’t clean up after himself, he lets his dishes pile up, he eats all the damn food, he blasts music too loud, and brings random women from bars home on Friday nights. And he isn’t particularly quiet either in the late hours of the night while you are trying to sleep. Soon after moving in, you figured out he was a night owl while you are an early bird.
It was nice to not have to see his face first thing in the morning, but every night he was banging around, watching TV or talking loudly to his friends. When you complained to him about this, he just gave you a smirk and said ‘what are you gonna do about it?’
He knew what he was doing. You knew what he was doing. You both knew it was all on purpose. So when you would stomp around in the morning while getting ready for your runs, it was payback. Although sometimes it would bite you, like that one time a girl he brought back accidentally fell asleep after they banged, so she slipped out in the early hours of the morning. Right when you were in the kitchen lacing up your running shoes. The horrified look on her face when she asked if you were Thomas’s girlfriend was priceless. After informing her that no, you are not dating Thomas, she let out a breath of relief and expressed how bad she would feel if you were, and thank god you’re not.
When you got back from your run and lifting session at around 9 am, he was finally awake and looked like he just rolled out of bed. His hair a mess and bags under his eyes as he brewed himself coffee. You told him about the incident from earlier that morning and he just laughed, stating, “don’t be jealous it’s not you. There’s always other nights for us.”
That sentence alone only added to your distaste for him.
Thomas is a natural flirt; any chance he gets he says something that makes you cringe and push him away from you. Sometimes while you cooked dinner, he would come up behind you and wrap his arms around you, holding him tightly to his chest and burying his face in your neck. Of course, you fought this back and sneered at him to get the hell off of you, to which he would laugh at and tell you to relax.
It was torture.
What’s worse is you’re so touch starved that for a millisecond it feels comforting. Then you remember whose arms are secured around your waist.
“Peggy, I don’t know how much of this I can take,” you sighed on the phone to your best friend, Peggy Schuyler. Peggy was always there for you throughout your toughest times. She’s seen you at your best and at your worst, and stuck with you despite everything. She’s loyal, and that’s one of the things you love most about her.
“It can’t be that bad. What does he do?” She says, shuffling around on the other end.
“Oh my god, he’s so inconsiderate. He rarely does his dishes, or buys groceries, and don’t even get me started on the women. It’s bad.” You complain.
“He sounds immature,” she comments.
“He is!” You say through gritted teeth.
“Y’know, Alex told me that he works with Thomas in their leadership group. Said he’s a real asshole to him. I don’t know why they hate each other so much, but Alexander probably has a good reason to. From what I’ve heard about him today…I dunno, I wouldn’t want to be near him either.” She rambles.
“He has every right to hate him. Did you know he ‘accidentally’ locked me out the other day? That asshole had such a smug look on his face when I had to ask our landlord to let me in. I didn’t mean to forget my key—it just, it slipped my mind,” you rant, growing frustrated.
That wasn’t a fun day. You had left to make a quick trip to your car and it slipped your mind to bring a key to get back in. You figured that he’d be there, but when you got up there and fumbled in your pocket before realizing you were missing the key, he didn’t respond to the pounding fist on the door. After calling and texting him multiple times to no reply, you growled and went downstairs to get the landlord to let you in. When you finally did, Thomas had just stepped out of the shower, wearing only sweatpants with his curly hair wet. Him being faced with your angry confrontation, he claimed he couldn’t hear you in the shower. You didn’t buy it.
“Are you serious? What a dick. I’m sorry, Y/n, I really hope it gets better.” She says softly, offering her condolences. You hummed boredly.
“Yeah, I doubt it will. I don’t think I could ever warm up to him.” You sigh, leaning your head back on your pillow.
“Just give it time. I’m sure you’ll open up to each other eventually.”
You grimace at the thought of becoming close with Thomas Jefferson. “Yeah but…I don’t want to associate with that asshole.” You say bluntly. She barks out an airy laugh.
“Honestly? That’s fair. But in all seriousness, everything will work out in the end. If it hasn’t worked out yet, then it’s not the end.” She casually drops this insane quote on you, rendering you speechless.
“…Thanks. Did you just come up with that on the spot?” You asked.
“Hah! No, I saw it on Pinterest. It’s a good quote, glad I got to use it,” she chuckles to herself and you smile, shaking your head softly.
“Oh! I forgot to mention, I matched with a guy on Tinder and we’re going out tomorrow night. Damn, I was so caught up in my hate for Thomas that I forgot what actually matters.”
“Really? That’s great! What’s his name?” She beams, and you grin, rambling on about Clyde, a 26-year-old from Colorado who loves dogs, has brown hair, and is super fucking hot.
After ending the call on a positive note, you’re looking forward to the next day. It had your mind racing with the possibilities of what he might be like in person. You’ve been chatting with him for a few days now, and he seemed promising. He had a good sense of humor over text which was nice and he wasn’t too clingy.
You only hope he’s what your idea of him is.
—
“Where are you goin’?” Thomas quirks an eyebrow from the living room, his legs stretched across the couch and his phone in hand. His shirt was abandoned, leaving his bare chest for the world to see. Your eyes trailed down to his defined arms and abs. You quickly snapped yourself out of it, but it didn’t go unnoticed by him. You could tell from the smirk on his face.
“I’m going on a date,” you triumphed, a beaming smile on your face as you smoothed over your outfit. He scanned your appearance, pursing his lips and nodding to himself.
“Have fun, I guess,” he formed his mouth into an awkward line. You raised an eyebrow, observing the change in his demeanor. Normally he’d say something snarky, maybe hit on you, but I guess today was different. Maybe he’s not feeling it. Or better yet, maybe he’s decided to stop completely and leave you alone.
You clipped on your earring and head out the door—deliberately double checking you had your key with you. After driving to the restaurant you agreed to meet up at, you searched the sea of faces for Clyde. Upon spotting the handsome face you’ve grown to like, your eyes lit up and you made your way over to him.
“Hey,” you said humbly, sitting down across from him. He gave you a lazy grin.
“Hi. You look beautiful,” he comments. You blush, and thus the night begins. It was going good at first, that is until the waitress came around and he waved her off rudely. Red flag number one.
Red flag number two came when he started bragging about how he broke his exes heart, talking on and on without letting you get a word in. By that point you had lost any attraction to him. It sucked because he seemed like he would be worth it, but you’ve learned to not get your hopes up too high anymore. By the time the bill came around, you split it, and he didn’t tip the waitress. Instead, he complained about how horrible the staff is since they mistook our order for someone else’s, which they fixed immediately.
Safe to say you won’t be calling him again.
“How’d your date go?” Thomas calls lousily from the couch where he still sat. You sighed, running a hand over your face.
“Bad. He turned out to be a complete dick to the waitress.” You dropped your purse onto the counter and kicked off your heels, letting out a small sigh of relief.
He winced, inhaling sharply. “Yikes. Never a good sign in a man.”
“Exactly. It’s like, if you treat them that way, you would treat me the same if I was in their position, y’know?”
He nods, putting his phone down and watching you chug a glass of water.
“He was almost as big of an asshole as you are.” You laughed teasingly. He immediately huffs and rolls his eyes.
“And here I was, thinking you were finally warming up to me.” Despite that, his lips quirk up at the edges.
“Never gonna happen.” You raise your eyebrows, giving him a toothy grin before retreating to your room. He’s in for a rude awakening if he thinks he can win you over so easily for being attractive. This will be a long few months living with him.