Rotten Floorboards

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(Triggers: poorly translated French)
Your name is Y/N L/N and your apartment is a disaster. After spending a scary amount of money on renovating it to have not only two, but three beds. Two baths, a new kitchen, living room and cleaning service for it.... your luck that the floorboards are rotten.
You scored this apartment with your friend, F/N, fresh out of high school back in the state of (home state name). You moved here, and immediately began fixing up the place. Located near the great view of Central Park, you could see Time Square and various theaters. You got a job at a local coffee shop to pay off some loans, and you were currently seeing a handsome man named BF/N. Yet, the problem didn't cease... you were beginning to wonder if the view was worth it.
It was the Christmas season, snow lining the streets of the city. Your tree stood in a corner that was luckily unaffected by the mold.
While you discovered the mold, your neighbor gladly would be dog sitting your beagle puppy, and your so-called "best friend" would be attending their job and would be unable to help you. You didn't want to spend anymore money, so you decided to do it all on your own.
You groaned in displeasure as you ripped the board, covered in mold from the beams. Water damage...
You are Y/N L/N and this is your life... Or so you thought...

(Y/n POV)
I ferociously scrubbed at the bare wood, thanking whatever god in existence that I was wearing these black gloves, this trench coat and headband. They kept my body safe from the ugly, health-affecting mold. My capris were rolled up even higher, my legs covered in the recommended boots. I peeled the white scarf I had been using as a mask off my face and turned away to take in a breath of fresh air. I had a regular t-shirt on underneath, colored white. Just covering myself as much as possible, you know?
What on earth can cause this much mold? I thought with a rather agitated tone echoing throughout my mind.
I ripped up the wood once again, tossing it into a hefty bag to take down to the trash. As I lifted one particularly large plank of the disgusting wood, I yelled, appalled as a piece of it seemed to drop to my couch with a pop. I disposed of the wood and took the small chunk into my hands with an angry furrowed brow.
As I studied it with my eyes, I saw it wasn't a wood chip, rather a small black box. I curiously opened its lid, having to pry it off as so much mold had embedded itself into the cracks. The little particles drifted to my feet, but I was too enthralled by the untouched piece of parchment paper within. The ink could have written in colonial times, yet also yesterday. I unfolded the paper as I sat on the couch, taking off the coat, and dusting off the small wood chips and mold that came with the box. I read the excerpt at the top of the list.
"To the past,
Fly back,
Like to spring forward yet to give up control,
Enter a foreign yet familiar land,
You can call it neverland but alas
It never did not happen."
I stare at it with a confused face. My apartment is so quiet. Too quiet. I screamed my response to break the silence.
I was interrupted by the feeling of my breath catching in my throat as I looked up. The world around me was utterly different.
I was in a room of black. All that remained was the couch and table at its side. "...that mean...?"
I heard the sound of people whispering all around me. In one quick motion, I reached and grabbed a small pistol my father bought me to protect myself. I quickly darted my vision around as light began to fade into the scenery again. I grabbed my coat from the vanishing couch and pulled it on as i felt cool air hit my bare arms. With the mask wrapped around my neck, legs trembling and face scared, I looked at the now moving world around me. I stood stiff as a plank of wood, staring down at the paper in my hand with large eyes. I read what I had aloud in my head, tying to make sense of it. There were people walking around me, women wearing dresses that looked unbearably uncomfortable to me. I looked at myself, and compared to the men I saw, I looked more similar to them. Considering what time I think I was brought to, I think being a man is for the better. At least I still have rights. I swallowed the unmoving breath in the back of my throat and tightened the band around my h/c hair. All I know was that I was passing.
I leant up against the wall of a neighboring building and made it look like I was reading the letter as people passed. A few men tipped their hats to me, calling me "sir" and wishing me a good day. I would choke out the most confident response I could at this horrifying time for me: a small nod and a broken hum.
I ducked into an alley, the buildings shielding me from the streets. I checked my appearance. I tore up the mask and made it look like that of a cravat. My white shirt was loose on my body, covering my cleavage and hiding the fact I was a woman.
I could get away with this... I thought hesitantly.
I slowly walked back out onto the street, watching myself fold up the letter in my cold, small hands.
I did have a rather normal feminine frame, but within these clothes, I looked more like a hungry beggar. Someone who hasn't eaten in a while.
I sighed to try and relieve my anxious feelings, only to bump into a larger man. I grunted scaredy in shock and surprise. I tripped backwards and fell to the ground, landing on my butt and gasping.
"Je suis désolé! Are you alright, monsieur?!"
I rubbed my lower back, noticing my paper next to my thigh. I snatched it up and looked up at the man speaking French I had bumped into. He wore a blue coat. His skin was a light beautiful bronze and his deep chocolate hair looked fluffy and uncontrollable. This man seemed to have it in check though, as it was pulled back into a tight puffy ponytail on the back of his head. He extended a hand to me, and my eyes widened as I finally replied. "Uh....yes." I took his hand and he pulled me up. Compared to his height, I was rather minuscule. Only (your height).
"Ah, oui.... Good. I was hoping you'd say that..." he chuckled as I dusted myself off.
He suddenly ducked down and picked up my pistol.  My eyes widened and I released a sound of distress. As he weighed the very unfamiliar object in his hand, I thought of what to say.
His dark eyes peered at mine questioningly.
"U-Uh, that's a prototype of a new gun my late father passed down to me!"
Wow that sounds stu-
"Wow!" The man laughed, "This is you say, magnificent...invention." He handed it back to me, and I clicked on the safety, stuffing it into my deep pocket.
"Y-yeah my dad was pretty great..." I smiled nervously. "A-Anyway-"
Both of us seemed to jump.
I stared as three more men came up to who I assumed was... Lafayette. As in, American revolution war-hero Lafayette? What... the...fuck...
The first of the men had a tan skin tone and hair similar to that of Lafayette's intensity, but pulled into a much looser tie in the back. He had a young and freckle-covered face.
The second had a deep skin tone, a bluish grey band around his hairline. He was the loud one, and he looked loud. His body was built like a house...a concrete one. I mean he was very strong and tall.
The last was shorter, about my height even. He had a scrawny frame, sun-kissed skin. His hair was wavy but dark like that of Lafayette's, pulled into a low ponytail that rested on his shoulder blades.
They all wore a similar jacket to that of the man standing in front of me.
I shook in my boots with anxious nature. "H-hi...I'm..." i gulped. My name was probably too girly to pass as a man's. I had to think of one... Quick think! What's a favorite TV show of yours?! Just say the main character's name! I blurted it out. "Steven L/n!"
Great job, you named yourself after a fucking gem hybrid...
The scrawny one shook my hand vigorously. "Nice to meet you, Steven, I'm Alexander Hamilton."
What the FUCK.
"Hercules Mulligan." The loud one said in a hushed voice to me.
"John Laurens." The last one joined.
I seriously am in like 1776 WHAT THE FUCK.

Your name is Y/N L/N and you are in 1776.
And this was going to be one colorful adventure.

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