What We Know | John Laurens x Reader

1. Time Flies

Hey guys! This is my first reader insert story, so let me know what you think! Enjoy!
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Y/N's POV

Most people would tell you that time flies when you're having fun. I would say that times flies when you're about to die. It did for me.

"Y/N, can you run to the store real quick? Were going to need a cake if y'all want a successful birthday party," called my mom from the kitchen.

Later today was me and my twin Isabelle's birthday party, and we were trying to set decorate the house.

"Sure!" I smiled, heading downstairs and grabbing my purse and phone. The store wasn't far, so I chose to walk.

While I walked I listened to my Hamilton playlist on shuffle, smiling as 'Aaron Burr, sir' began. Needless to say, I was a little distracted.

Maybe it was my fault or maybe it was their fault, but regardless, as I stepped off the sidewalk to cross the street, a speeding car turned the corner. I never heard them getting closer and closer, and they never looked and saw me walking. We both felt the impact though.

It was over quickly. The pain that is. My life? Not exactly.

When I woke up I was laying on the wet pavement being shaken slightly by short man. He was wearing a brown coat with a tan shirt and pants and he had his hair tied back in a low ponytail.

"Miss? Are you okay?" he asked concernedly. I sat up slightly leaning on my elbows.

"I'm fine, sir," I said looking around, "Where exactly are we?"

Everything around us was old and colorless. There were wooden signs hanging above the doors of shops and bars, and there was no sidewalk lining the dirt road.

He gave me a weird look as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. "New York City."

My eyes widened in shock and I stared at him in disbelief. He offered me hand and I nervously took it, standing to my feet.

"My name is Alexander Hamilton," he said proudly. That was when reality hit me harder than that car.

My name is Alexander Hamilton
And there's a million things I haven't done
But just you wait
Just you wait

A month ago my mother took my sister and I to go see Hamilton as a high school graduation gift. Hamilton died over 200 years ago.

I was in the past.

If I was to mess this up, I could possibly change everything. I could possibly end up never being born. I couldn't let that happen.

"I'm Y/N Owens," I stammered, saying the first last name that I could think of.

"That's a beautiful name," he smiled, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles softly. I had to fight not to pull my hand away from the oddness of it all.

"Thank you," I muttered.

"You're very welcome. Maybe we should get you home before you start getting odd looks," he suggested, gesturing to my outfit of choice.

I looked down in confusion. What was wrong with my shirt and sweatpants? I saw a girl in a green dress walk into a nearby tailor shop with a man who I assumed was her husband.

Oh. Women don't wear shirts and sweatpants here, they wear dresses. "I don't have a home," I frowned, looking down at my frayed sneakers.

"You can stay at my place then," he insisted, linking my arm with his and leading me off down the street. This definitely the right way to 'not change history'.

"Where are you from, Miss Owens?" he asked. I almost didn't answer, not recognizing my fake last name.

"Please, sir, call me Y/N," I answered, panicking as I tried to think of a convincing back story.

"I'm from Spain," I lied, "My family and I just immigrated here from Barcelona."

"Where's your family?" he inquired, turning to face me with confusion. Darn it, Hamilton. Why do you have to ask so many questions?

I pushed my h/c hair out of my face, nervously. "We were uh... separated on the way here," I faltered.

"Oh. I'm sorry for asking," he said softly.

"It's okay," I told him. It's not okay. My families probably being told that I'm dead right now. My twin probably thinks that I died on our birthday.

I turned my head away from him so that he wouldn't see the tears that were gathering in my eyes.

Eventually, we arrived at a worn out looking house. I guess it would make sense that Alex lived in poverty. This must be before he married Eliza then.

"Welcome to my home," he smiled, holding open the door for me. I walked inside and into the living room where a very uncomfortable looking couch sat.

"It's not much, " he sighed, "but its important to me."

"It's perfectly fine," I said following him into a nearby bedroom. There was a small bed against the back wall and a dresser opposite to it.

"You can have my bed for tonight," he said, gesturing to the bed. "Tomorrow we should be able to find you something uptown."

I nodded and took a seat on the mattress, wincing at how uncomfortable it felt in comparison to my bed back home.

Eventually, he left the room, leaving me to attempt to go to sleep. It wasn't working. Today was way too eventful and weird.

I wondered what was happening back home. Did the party guests still show up? Has my family even been told that I'm dead yet? How's Isabelle taking the news?

She would be absolutely devastated. Me and her have always been so close with each other. And on our birthday.

A tear slipped from my eye and I brushed it away hurriedly. Focus on the present, Y/N, I told myself. I yawned and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Alexander Hamilton was asleep on the couch nearby.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep well that night.

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4/11/2020

Can I just say that it's really weird to write Alex like this? I'm so used to writing him in a very different way. Anyways, let me know what you thought!

QOTD: What's your favorite Hamilton song?

Thanks for reading! -SunkissedChild5