In a world where the facade
Is the best weapon of defense and decay
Where being fine is the go to
Instead of what you’d truly like to say.
When all the world is raging
Against the tides of your soul
Always know that I will weather it
And bring you safely home.
The Old Town of Stockholm, Gamla Stan, is one of the largest and best preserved medieval city centers in Europe. It is where Stockholm was founded in 1252, on the island of Stadsholmen. Many of the cobblestone streets and alleys in Gamla Stan are car free, creating an idyll environment to walk around and explore the city’s shops, restaurants and city squares.
The most important landmark in Gamla Stan is the Royal Palace, that has over 600 rooms. Other landmarks of interest include Stockholm Cathedral, and the Alfred Nobel museum.
Words: 1,167 (i honestly didn’t think it would be this long ! :o)
Warnings: Zilch ! Just floofity floof !
A/N: Hi everyone! So this is my first attempt at a Hamilton reader-insert that doesn’t have Washington as the main character! *dramatic gasp !* It’s not romantic tho, but more fluffy !
I’ve hesitated about posting this a lot, but I thought I’d give it a try and see what you all think! I rlly hope you enjoy it !
This is a series by the way, though with school starting over here, I’m not so sure when I’ll get the next chapter up ! Hopefully soon !
I hope you all like it! Please tell me what you think - I love feedback! Also, if you have any advice or suggestions about how to write Thomas and his character, I would rlly appreciate it v v much !!!
Now, without further ado, enjoy! ^ U ^
Thomas Jefferson was not expecting visitors at six in the morning.
Nor was expecting to see to a disheveled Hamilton at his doorstep, looking more anxious than he usually was.
But most of all, he was not expecting to see a toddler - no older than three, if he had to guess - holding onto the lawyer’s hand and fighting to stay awake.
Request: Can I request something? Can you do kinda like a recarnation fic were Reader and Lafayette are soulmates and in each life they always find each other? Idk how to explain it better lol. I was planning to write it myself but I’m a terrible writer and I get too impatient. Thanks and I love your Thomas Jefferson story!
Word Count: 1705
Warnings: swearing, death of a major character
A/N: omg omg I had so much fun writing this- BLESS LAFAYETTE
This heat would be the death of you.
Your long, heavy skirts pooled around your ankles, making your every step small and tedious. Your corset had been tied much too tight today. As you made your way down the dirt path to the marketplace, you wished simply for a small drink of water, or at least somewhere to rest for a little while.
The market breathed with vitality, a collage of people from all different walks of life. Farmers stood beside their wares, trying to auction off their crops. Women bustled down the street with their children in tow. Men congregated in clusters, talking busily about what seemed to be the only topic of any merit nowadays- the inevitable war.
Though the marketplace always refreshed you somewhat, you still choked in the heat, struggling for breath.
As you continued down the street, however, you saw something- or rather, someone- who took your breath away for completely different reasons.
He stood among friends, mid-laugh when you saw him first. His grin stretched from ear to ear, setting his entire face alight with a laugh like fire.
Goddamn beautiful fire.
His fluffy hair was pulled back, giving you a front row seat to his easy smile and bright brown eyes.
Looking up from his friends for just a moment, he glanced at you before you locked eyes with him completely.
Your heart fluttered uncontrollably. Your cheeks burned, and for once you knew it was not because of the searing sun.
You broke the connection first, glancing down at the bouquet of flowers you intended to buy. The farmer stated his price, but you couldn’t even choke a word out. You wordlessly handed him your money, took the bouquet, and headed down the path.
Your legs shook. You could still feel his eyes on you. He studied you, watching your every movement, noting every breath and every blink.
And suddenly he was walking beside you, having left his rowdy group of friends behind.
“Excuse me, mademoiselle?”
His thick French accent in your ear sent tingles shooting down your spine.
You turned to him once again, mustering the courage to look him in the eyes. His were indescribably warm. You felt yourself getting lost in them already.
“Yes, sir?” you said, surprised you were able to say even that.
“Excusez-moi, but I have seen you from a great distance and I must say that I am utterly taken with your beauty.”
“Wow,” escaped your lips before you could stop it. “I mean, thank you, sir! Please, forgive me… I am just so… enamored.” He chuckled, his grin once again brightening your entire world. “What do they call you, miss?”
“Y/N L/N,” you smiled. “And you, sir?”
“Please, call me Lafayette,” he said, taking your hand in his and placing a kiss on your knuckles.
You smile, a sort of lightness spreading through your entire body.
“Would you like to take a walk, Lafayette?”
He simply grinned.
Autumn leaves fell near your feet. You stood outside the massive door of your parents’ home, its once welcoming facade suddenly appearing ominous. You were too nervous to take comfort in its familiar features.
“My dear, they’ll love you,” you assured Lafayette, looking squarely into his eyes.
He stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Merci, mon cherie.”
He held your hand in his as you took the door knocker in your fist and banged it against the door.
“Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “And you must be…”
“Marquis de Lafayette, madam,” he said, kissing her hand. “It is a pleasure.”
Your father stood at the door, a hand on your mother’s shoulder.
“Lafayette,” your father stated, expressionless.
“Why don’t you both come in?” your mother said.
You gave Laf’s hand another tight squeeze before you both stepped through the doorway.
“Don’t worry,” you whispered into his ear when your parents’ backs were turned. “If he doesn’t like you, we’ll just elope.” Lafayette playfully placed his chin on the top of your head.
“Je t’aime,” he said, his voice much more serious, and barely audible.
“What was that, Laf?”
“Oh, nothing, my dear. Let’s talk to your parents, hm?”
You never understood why Laf wanted a winter wedding.
“It’s cold, Laf, and snowy…”
“My dear, it will be worth it if I am able to see the snowflakes rest on your eyelashes.”
Nerves and excitement mingled in your stomach. The day had come.
You were nearly drowning in white fabric, but you couldn’t help but smile. Your dress matched the pure snow outside. The entire landscape was at peace, a painting of whites and soft blues. Perhaps this was what Lafayette had had in mind when he suggested a winter wedding.
“You look beautiful, dear,” your father said. You fought back tears. You adjusted the veil that hung over your face, and, with a hand on the crook of your father’s elbow, began to walk down the aisle, becoming closer and closer to your husband with every click of your heels against the floor, with every tick of the clock. Church organs announced your arrival with fanfare, but you paid no mind. The only thing you were concerned about was Lafayette.
He stood before you, that ever-present grin plastered on his face.
He died in the spring, just as the flowers began to bloom.
“Mon amour,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. The terrible irony of the situation was not lost on you- he had survived a war, yet it was pneumonia that was eating him alive.
“My dear,” you said, holding his hand in yours. Your vision blurred with tears.
“From the moment I saw you, mon cherie, I knew that I loved you. I knew it in the very core of my being that you were who I was meant to be with. And I do not know how, my dear, but I do know that we are stitched together. Our hearts were made to be one.”
You had always loved the summer. Despite the heat, there was something magical about this time of the year- something that always made your stomach swirl with excitement.
But not today.
Drudging home from an eight hour shift at the bookstore, you were not only exhausted, but you were drowning in sweat. Unfortunately, the air conditioning at the shop had chosen to break on none other but the hottest day of the year. Not to mention you had a report due for your History teacher at midnight.
The humidity within the subway station was nearly too hot to bare, but the strong stench of sewage and sweat put it over the top. It took all the self-control you had not to pinch your nose.
All of the seats on the train were taken, and you resorted to grabbing a bar with one hand and scrolling through your texts with the other hand. Exhaustion racked your body, but you tried to concentrate on the music blaring through your earbuds.
The train came to a stop within a few minutes, and you would not have looked up from your phone if it hadn’t been for the group of four men who boarded. You assumed they were all around college age. They were joking around with each other wildly, smiles on each of their faces. It was the huge grin of one of the men, however, that caught your attention, and within seconds the two of you were caught in each other’s gaze.
The three other men had gone very quiet, observing the scene. You yanked your earbuds out and stuffed them into your purse. You fumbled with the contents of your purse for far too long, trying to stop yourself from looking at the beautiful man any longer. Still, you could not ignore the dizzy feeling in your head when you looked at him. You felt as if wild stallions were racing in your chest whenever you thought of him. It was as if there was a string tying you to him, like you were somehow drawn to each other.
The subway car came to a sudden stop, and the door opened. You gave him a small smile before you made your way off the train, but it didn’t seem like enough. It was like giving a breadcrumb to a starving man.
You pulled your hoodie over your head, trying to block out the face of the man on the train. However, his warm eyes and grin couldn’t seem to leave you alone.
“Excuse me, mademoiselle?” You turned on the heel of your sneaker, shrugging your hoodie off your head.
And there he stood, even more handsome up close.
“Oh. Uh, hi,” you said awkwardly.
“So sorry to bother you,” he said in a thick French accent. “But you are by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Your stomach turned over.
“Wow,” you said, before clasping a hand over your mouth, horrified at what you’d said. “Oh my God, I mean-”
An easy grin spread across the man’s face, like butter on bread. “It’s not a problem, my dear. May I have your name?” “Y/N L/N, And you?”
“Most people just call me Lafayette.”
“Hmm,” you nodded. “Do you mind if I call you Laf?”
“You can call me anything you like,” Lafayette said with utter seriousness.
“Well then, nice to meet you, Laf,” you said, holding out a hand to him, which he most graciously took.
“And you, mon cherie.”
“Maybe you’d like to go out for some coffee sometime? I’m free Sunday.”
“Actually, is there any chance you’re free now? You see, I don’t know what it is, but I feel as if I’ve known you for so much longer than just today. Do you feel that, too?”
Admittedly, you did, though you had just brushed it off as infatuation with the handsome man in front of you.
Lafayette smiled. “Would you like to hear something strange?” he said, as he took your hand and led you up from the subway and into the light of day.
“I’d love to,” you said.
“I feel like we are stitched together, you and I. You see, it’s as if we were made to be one.”
“I have crazy ideas … I’d love to see some of Saul during the years of Breaking Bad, but off-screen, out of his office, not in his Saul mode. I’m curious what that person is.” –Bob Odenkirk on what he’d like to see in Better Call Saul season 3, via Vine Report.