quiet woman


2017 book releases I’m most looking forward to

The Sound of Silence in Planet of the Apes

I feel like nobody’s talking about War for the Planet of the Apes. The critics are talking, and the box office is talking, but the people are silent, and I’ve been trying to figure out why. War is, in my mind, the peak moment of series that has blown past every other competitor in the realm of PG-13, nine figure budget blockbusters. DC, Marvel, Mission Impossible and F&F, they all generally fall short of Apes for story, scale and substance. Exceptions exist, like this own year’s Spider-Man: Homecoming and Wonder Woman, but on the whole the rest just doesn’t measure up. Not since The Dark Knight has a film of this scope and caliber done so much so well. So why isn’t anyone talking about it? After a lot of thinking, I have a theory. It’s the reason I believe these movies aren’t getting the vocal attention they deserve, and it’s the thing that makes them stand out so starkly from the monochromatic backdrop of modern Hollywood: Planet of the Apes is quiet.

You see it in the calming vistas and beautiful establishing shots. You hear it in those frequent moment of jungle noise and nothing else. The idea of sound and silence is the driving thematic force through the whole trilogy, and with this idea as the series’ philosophical cornerstone, Apes transcends the hollowness of its contemporaries and sets itself in a whole different league.

To really break apart Apes’ use of sound and silence, I want to look at it through a few lenses, and I want to start by talking about silence in the special effects. Before going to see War, I rewatched Dawn with my brother who’d never seen it. When we got to the climax battle, the duel to the death between Caesar and Koba on the tower, and the battleground itself began collapsing beneath them, my brother said, “Huh. That looks expensive.” He was referring of course to the scene itself, the animated amalgamation of girders, pipes and apes, all bending and contorting in a giant computer-generated fireworks display. It looked expensive. And it was.

But the whole movie was expensive. At well over $200 million, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is in the VIP box for film budgets. The CGI aura emanates from every shot, but it wasn’t until that tower fell that my brother took notice. In a world where every film with a noteworthy effects budget uses it make as many star cruisers and laser blasts, as many explosions and faceless robots, as much noise, as possible, Apes uses its quietly. It builds believable characters in a believable place. And that’s enough.

It’s no secret that Hollywood is suffering from effects-fatigue. It’s the reason Valerian bombed while War did so well financially. Those explosions and collisions that Luc Besson dazzled us with in 1997 do nothing for us now. We expect them, and not excitedly. No matter how many aliens you model on screen, or how many missiles you shoot, the wow factor is gone. So, Matt Reeves went a different way. He took that money and built a world with it. A world that doesn’t look expensive. And he filled that world with a compelling community of characters. When everyone else was competing to see who could make the most noise, Apes created a beautiful silence.

That silence that carries over into the trilogy’s pacing, which is the next piece I want to talk about. While all three have been marketed as action films, none of them really are. Rise is a disaster movie with only one real action scene to its name. Dawn is a post-apocalyptic drama that raises the ante to two fights in the film’s second half. War has elements of a war film, sure, but its equal parts western and prison story at the same time. Every chapter is a distinct piece. That’s what happens when the narrative dictates the franchise, instead of the other way around.

Look at the virus subplot in Rise. That virus is the most important plot device in the whole series, bringing about both the rise of ape society and the fall of man, but we only see it on screen to the extent that it affects Caesar. It’s his story after all. The global spread of the disease and the ensuing downfall of civilization is relegated to a motion graphic in the ending credits, which sounds absurd, but that’s where it belongs for the purposes of the narrative. The same thing happens in Dawn when the human colony contacts Woody Harrelson’s extremist military base. The plotline is there through the whole second chapter, but we don’t see it brought center stage until War.

By deftly weaving these arcs, Apes successfully dodges the trap of cliffhanger and instead creates a compelling, interwoven story. A story with a quiet momentum. It never rushes itself or loses focus, but it also keeps everything in frame. Even the dialog has a calm, peaceful pace. When Caesar speaks in Dawn, we feel how difficult it is. The language doesn’t come naturally, and he constantly struggles to find the right words. The trademark fast banter and witty quips of the blockbuster are replaced with slow, careful dialogue, the noise replaced with silence.

Lastly, I want to talk about how Apes uses silence as a narrative device. From the very beginning, the shifting fortunes of man and ape hinge on their polarized methods of communications. When Caesar learns to speak, it’s through sign language. And when he builds his brotherhood, his family, he uses the same foundation. Everything from school lessons to council meetings are conducted in silence in the ape society. It’s not about being the loudest. It’s about what you have to say.

The humans, on the other hand, shout and riot. The soldiers in War start the day with organized battle cries. Gary Oldman controls the chaos of his city in Dawn with a megaphone and a stirring speech. They talk and shout and eventually, all too ironically, lose their voices altogether. All their noise ultimately amounts to nothing, merely embodying the chaos, violence, and madness that defines their downfall. The apes, on the other hand, say something. The difference is, they say it in silence.

There’s a lot more that sets War for the Planet of the Apes and its predecessors apart, like the methodical development of Caesar’s character, and the genre-bending nature of the franchise as a whole. I also know that for all my praise, these movies aren’t perfect. But I do honestly think, at a time when so much in the theater looks so similar and so empty, that there is something unique and important about Planet of the Apes. The fact that I felt more in three lines of subtitles in War than two hours of noise in anything else is incredibly significant. And I hope people start talking about it. Because it matters, it really matters, that there is a movie out there with a $150 million budget that wants people to sit down in a theater and read.


[ The Wait ]

Testing out a new process for extra dreamy and soft illustrations, quite pleased with how it turned out. Can’t really decide which version I like best, so here have them both! <3

(~short story under the cut for those interested in things like that~)

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TRANSLATION: “I’m so lonely. Sandra won’t even take my calls any more. So lonely.”

Night Walks - Part 1

Summary: You like to take late night walks to de-stress, you meeet a stranger named Bucky who does the same.

Prompt(s): Okay I’m combining two: pandarosita: 93 and 94… but Reader being upset rather than Bucky? and an anon request for 64.

93.“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”
94. “I had a bad dream again.”
Bonus: 64 “Here, take my blanket.”

Warnings: angsty reader

Word Count: 3093

Author’s Note: Ah fuck. I sort of hate this but I just need to post it to get it out of my head, so here you go. Enjoy the angst. I’ll post part 2 tonight when I get to my next hotel. 

Side note, please do not interpret this as me advising taking careless late night walks. Be safe, know your surroundings if you must.

Originally posted by sssmcdlove

You’d always been a night owl, preferring the quiet dark when everyone was asleep over the busy days in too small a home with too many people. You liked the calm stillness that fell at night when everything finally just… stopped.

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Originally posted by xjasperhalex

A/N: requested. Hope it is alright.

warning: none


Jasper’s POV

It started with her smell, it was alluring but not how other humans are. I didn’t feel the need to drain her or hurt her in anyway. I followed the smell and found a woman in the woods, she was crouched down and looked to be trying to help an injured animal. Her scent was so powerful I couldn’t even smell the blood of the creature. When I saw her a sense of protectiveness came over me and before I knew what was happening, my legs started moving towards the woman. A loud crack sounded throughout the quiet forest, startling the woman, the animal and me until I realised that it was me who made the noise by standing on a stick.

“Oh hello” a sweet melody came from her, making me freeze in my spot. From my time in Forks no one has had a different accent they were all the same except her, a southern accent and it was enthralling.

“Hi, you know these parts aren’t the safest of places” for the first time someone has made me incomprehensible.

“Oh I was just explorin’ and found this little guy” gesturing towards the animal looking genuinely concerned for the animal it made me almost jealous that the animal had her attention more than me.

“Why don’t I help you? I know a little bit about animals I could be useful” she gave me a bright smile and gestured for me to come closer and examine the animal.

While taking care of the animal we got talking about anything and everything, well almost everything, of course I didn’t tell her about who I really am or what I am but maybe in time.

Now there’s an interesting idea

Tony gets in an accident. His heart is shredded to pieces, but they manage to find a donor – a woman who had come into the hospital a few days earlier shot to hell and back. She was just declared brain dead.

Tony wakes up in the hospital. It takes him a while to realize he’s the only one who can see the quiet young woman standing in the corner. It’s too bad he only met Natasha after she was dead. She’s a riot, and he enjoys messing with her. Although if she was alive, she probably could’ve (and would’ve) killed him by now.

But then other things start finding them. Turns out Natasha and him have become a beacon for all things paranormal – ghosts, poltergeists, demons (holy shit). Natasha doesn’t seem to mind that he’s in perpetual danger. Then again, it is her heart in his chest that seems to be anchoring her here.

That’s how he meets the others. He’s not quite sure when he gave them permission to move in though. Turns out living with ghosts is messier than expected.

One day, the wise woman of the village called all the children to her house.

She sat with them in a circle, and they ate and sang together until the moon was high in the sky. The children had never been allowed to stay up as late. They were excited. Their tongues prickled with the spicy soup that the wise woman had given them.

When the fire was just a low glimmer of ash and wood anymore, the woman lifted her hand.

The children that had been laughing and chattering fell quiet.

The woman said: “Show me the palm of your hand, and tell me only the truth. Swear on it.”

“I swear,” said the children. Some whispered it, some barely got out the words, but all of them were shivering because they felt something old and large reach for their hearts. They didn’t know if it was the soup, the woman’s power, the moon, or just their own awe before the world and the night that made them speak truthfully.

The wise woman lowered her hand. She looked at one after the other. Her eyes were warm as the fire, dark as the moon’s shawl above.

“Speak what you wish to raise in your life.”

Everyone was silent for a long time.

The woman turned her head towards the first boy.

“Family,” the boy mumbled. Then, a bit louder, clutching his empty soup bowl, he looked at everyone with honey golden eyes, wide with kindness. “Mine and others.”

The old woman said nothing. Only her head moved from then on, and it pointed to the next, the next, one after the other.

And the children spoke.









While the children said their words, the old woman drank them in. She let then settle into her memory, anchored them where they were safe.

One day, when the children were of age, she would ask them again.

Some would have changed. If they had lost their path, she would remind them of their old words, of the dreams their hearts had forgotten about. That there was a way forward, in whatever direction it may run. If they had found another way for themselves, she would gift them their once-adored word still, so that they had something to always return to and would know that once feeling something did not mean that you wouldn’t ever feel something else.

And if the children still chose the same way, then it would be their time to raise something.

So the children spoke their words. Only two were left now and before the woman could turn her head, they spoke at the same time.



The other children shivered. For a long time, nothing moved. Even the fire seemed frozen in the moment. Finally, the woman tilted her head.

“What do you mean?” she asked the two. She hadn’t asked anyone else.

The first child stood up, hands curled into fists, eyes burning. “If anyone gets in my way, I’ll bring all of the world down on them!”

“I’m scared,” whispered one of the children.

The woman looked at the other child, whose eyes were calm as the dark sky above. “And you?”

“Myself,” said the child once more. “Nothing more and nothing less.”

The first child laughed. “That’s stupid. Just yourself? What can you do with that! When I’m older, the world won’t stand a chance against me.”

Before the second child could speak, the old woman stirred. She reached out for the child’s fingers and took them into her own. The other children watched, wary and confused.

“Before you raise any of your dreams,” said the old woman, a smile on her fire-warmed lips, “I want all of you to remember this.” And when the child who stood glared at her, she took its hand as well until it sat and put its head against her shoulder.

“Raise yourself, children, and you will stand against anything. Raise yourself, and the whole world will rise with you. Hell and heaven and every fear will fall if you hold yourself upright and look to the stars. And if you cannot rise anymore, stand. Stand. The horizon has been born for thousands of years, every morning and every night. Admire its strength, when you are weak, but do not forget:

You are the dawn. You are the dusk.

The world will follow. Raise all that you are, before anything else.”

INFP Issues #3

Me: Yay! I’m finally ready to emerge from hermitdom and rejoin the rest of society!

*One hour later*

Me: If I don’t go home in the next five minutes, I think I’m gonna die.

MariChat May: The Oracle’s Gift

Special thanks to @toukabunni33 for playing Beta for me!

Love Square

Rated: T

The Oracle’s Gift

MariChat May Prompts:

Aged Up! Chat

Aged Up! Marinette

Identity Reveal

One Shot

Adrien, in the guise of Chat Noir, had been enjoying one of his few moments of leisure at Marientte’s, laying down on her chaise, eyes watching as the girl fussed over a new design that she was making.

This moment, this was one of his favorite moments of time. Where he was able to spend time with Marinette without her stuttering. He adored watching her work, playing video games with her. Everything seemed platonic between them. Adrien quickly and easily called her his best friend after all the time he spent with her as Chat.

Sadly, he wouldn’t tell her his identity. Not until he showed Ladybug. Marinette had an ever-growing spot in his heart, but Ladybug was there first, and her grasp was still firm. He hoped one day she’d have it completely as his partner, friend… and hopefully his girlfriend, maybe more one day.

He had few days like this. When he meant days, he meant daylight hours. It took much pleading and bribing, but he had convinced Nathalie to give him a couple days off just to hang out with friends and get his energy back. Between school, modeling, and all of his extra lessons—not to mention his time as Chat Noir—he was completely burnt out energy wise.

It was when his Baton sounded off with an Akuma Alert from the Ladyblog that he hissed in annoyance.

He heard a lighter hiss, Marinette shaking her hand, the sound having startled her enough that she stabbed herself in the finger with a needle.

“I’m okay! Just got my finger.” She moved the digit between her lips, looking towards him. “Go. Go save people, Chat. I’ll be here when you get back.” She said, pulling the digit away once the bleeding had stopped.

A small smile was tossed her way as he moved to go out the hatch that lead to her balcony.

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Ten Paces Fire! (G.Wash x Reader)

a/n: i was trying to think of a prompt for this gwash request and this idea just popped into my head and??? i couldn’t stop laughing lmao hope u guys enjoy! (ps if u want more all u have to do is ask ;)

request: Please please please write George Washington x reader fluff. I’m begging.

word count: 1011 words

“Burr, get a medic for the general.” Washington growled.

“Yes, Sir.” He stated as Lee was carried away.

After a talk with Hamilton, General Washington decided to check on Charles Lee.  Although Lee said some very rude things, it was his duty to make sure his men were ok.

“Lee, since you are unfit to serve here any longer I am afraid to tell you that you will be discharged.  Is there anyone we can contact to assist you on your way back home?” He asked formerly.

Lee hissed as he moved upright on the cot to look at the other general. “My sister, Sir.  She shouldn’t live too far away from here, although she might not be very pleasant when she arrives.” He shivered.

Washington furrowed his eyebrows and marched to his tent to write a letter to Ms. Lee about her brother’s current state and the situation that brought them to this conclusion.  After he was finished, he asked one of his men to deliver it.  Now all he had to do was wait.
“Where is he?!” Washington heard a women’s voice shriek as he was drafting plans for the next battle.  He heard Hamilton’s voice trying to calm her down but to no avail she kept demanding to see whomever “he” was.

His tent was flung open and saw Alexander walk in with a red face after being told off by said woman.

“Ms. Lee has arrived, Sir.”

George’s eyes widen as he put the pieces together and realized that it was Charles Lee the woman was searching for.

“Shall I escort her to him?” Hamilton asked.

Washington shook his head and stated he can do it as he grabbed his hat.  He opened the flap to his tent and held his hand to his face as the sun’s beams showered upon him. It took his eyes a bit to adjust to the new lighting and looked to see the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on.  

She had a simple navy blue dress, gorgeous (E/C) eyes, and hair that looked slightly messy from the journey to the camp.  Her lips, however, were knitted in a tight frown as she looked angrily at him.  Washington gulped as he made his way over to the furious but beautiful woman.

“I assume your-”

He barely got a few words out before she interrupted him.

“The sister of that idiot who got himself shot in a stupid duel over something stupid he said?” The woman spat.

The general moved slightly back, afraid if he said anything wrong she might release more of her wrath onto him.  He opened his mouth but was cut off yet again by the woman.

“I am so terribly sorry,” She said as she dragged her hand across her face. “It’s just that my brother is…not the brightest.”

Washington chuckled and shook his head. “It’s quite alright, Miss.  It’s completely understandable that you would be upset.” He smiled at her.

She smiled back. “I’m (Y/N) Lee.”

Washington bowed and took her hand to kiss her knuckles, “George Washington at your service, Ms. Lee.”

The lady blushed as she realized that she lashed out on the general and because he kissed her hand.

“Can I escort you to that ‘idiot brother’ of yours?” He asked as he looped an arm around hers.

Ms. Lee’s face flushed an even darker pink and nodded.  The general chuckled at her silence since it was very hard to keep the woman quiet almost moments ago.  

On their short walk to the medical tent, he asked about her life. She told him of her hobbies but the thing he was intrigued about her the most was that she was an assistant to a professor in the nearby college.

“You must be a brilliant woman then.” He told her.

She grinned at him, “I wouldn’t say brilliant but I would like to think I’m more educated than I should be.” She added with a wink.

The general laughed again, “You have quite the sense of humor, Ms. Lee!”

“Please call me (Y/N), General.” She told him.

“If you call me George I think we can arrange that.” He grinned at her.

When they arrived at the nurse’s station, the two were still chatting and giggling with one another and the men stationed at the tent stopped to gawk at the scene.  They have never seen the general so…happy, so carefree.  And to be completely honest George couldn’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable with someone else.  

“Don’t you boys have somewhere to be?” The general demanded.

The three soldiers’ eyes widened and stammered an apology while scurrying off.

Washington opened the tent and allowed (Y/N) to enter first.  She was about to walk in before she turned around to look at George.

“Could I have a moment alone with him?” She asked with her big (E/C) eyes.

George blushed and simply nodded his head so he didn’t say anything stupid. He watched her walk in and find her brother on his cot, dead asleep.  He smiled and turned around to walk back to his tent but before he could leave he felt a soft hand clutch his.  

The beautiful woman he was taken with stood up slightly on her tippy toes and whispered, “Write to me.” and kissed his cheek.

She smiled softly at him while closing the tent.

George stood outside in shock.  He simply stared at the opening while reaching up to gently touch the cheek she brushed her lips against.  Afterwards, he grinned and walked towards his tent to finish some business with a slight spring in his step.  He was only a little ways down before he heard a yell.


George’s grin widened and set down to already write a letter to the woman he was so suddenly infatuated with.

Like an Angel ~ An Oh Sehun Series

An Oh Sehun We Got Married series

Not Requested

Genre: Romance // Angst // Smut (later on)

Summary: (of this series) Two idols, one show, one marriage. Can you and Sehun fake your marriage for the fans? Or will that fake marriage start something between the two of you?

Word Count: 3,500 words

A/N: Yay you guys correctly guessed the member! Like an Angel takes place in the same universe as Strangers, but Yixing’s version does not. Yixing’s version (which is coming soon) is in its own universe.

{Chapter one} {Chapter two} {Chapter three} {Chapter four, coming soon}

You look down at the very first mission card.

Your husband’s favorite colors are white and black. Make sure to dress in those colors!

Your eyes move to look at your choice of wardrobe. Everything they gave to you was either black, white, or both. Not caring about what you wear, you settle on a pure white blouse with black leggings. Looking at the shoes, you randomly pick up a pair of mary jane heels.

It was time. It was finally the time you got to find out who your husband was going to be for the next few months of filming. Well, fake husband. You had wondered about this show long enough. Was the hand holding real? Were the hugs real? Was the affection itself real? People had different opinions, yet you yourself had never really had one. Some people said everything was scripted, and others said everything was real. But what if it was in the middle? What if it was both scripted and real? You wanted to find out for yourself. So, after pestering your agent and manager begging them to get you a part in this show, they finally caved.

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Bit of a Flirt

Character/Person : Alexander Hamilton

Pairing : Alexander Hamilton x Washington!Reader; Platonic Washingdad x Reader

Time : Hamiltime

Reader’s Gender : Female

Warnings : Mentions of slaves, Alexander being a huge flirt, thats it this is just pure fluff

Possibility Of Having a Second Part : Not really

Genre : Fluff

Request : None

Word Count : 3196

Summary : You are George Washington’s only daughter and you’re attending a ball being hosted at your house. After hours of people using you to get some sort of connection with your father, you’re surprised to find someone who just wants to know you for you. You find out he’s quite the flirt, though.

“Mother, it’s gorgeous, but it’s just a bit.. I don’t know..”

“Hush, surely you’ll find a way to fit your head in.”

You stood from your seat and reached for the wine red dress. Hooking your hand through both of it’s sleeves, you held it up to your chest and at your mother with a raised brow in question who only eyeballed the dress to find the problem with the dress you were worrying about.

“It’s not my head I’m worried about. It’s just, a bit revealing. It looks like I’m on display.”

Your mother, Martha Washington, nodded in understanding. Or the best she could understand. Taking the dress from your hands she handed it off to a slave that awaited by the doorway. With a hushed whisper into the woman’s ear, she waved her hand and sent the woman off.

You examined your mother, a questioning glint in your eye. She only smiled and shoved her finger into the air, silently telling you to be patient. You decided it was best to obey and remained quiet until the woman returned back with your dress, not wanting to cause any trouble with your family the day that they were all stressing for anyways. And just as you expected, the woman came back with the same dress with small modifications. She returned to your mother with the ruby dress. You noticed a bit more cloth covering the chest area.

“Thank you, Mary.”

Said woman curtsied and made her way back to the doorway to wait for any more things that you might have needed her for.

Your mother turned to you and held it up to your chest, eyeing both you and the dress for your approval.

“Is this better?”

Your let your eyes wander down the dress that was currently being held up to you, admiring every swirl of pattern or trying to look for any splotch of discoloration, none. It was imperfectly perfect. You nodded and thrusted your head upwards to look at your mother.


Martha grabbed one of your hands gently and used it to take over hers, you held the dress steadily as she stepped back and admired you for a few beats.

“Go on and get dressed then, the ball starts soon and we can’t have the host and hostess’s daughter being late, can we?”

“No, mother.”

She left the room sporting a smile with Mary and, from what you could assume, went off to go check on your father.

“Y/N, be done in an hour’s time. I’ll send Mary back up here by then to do your makeup and hair.”

You silently nodded at your mother’s voice that was faint and muffled.

“You look lovely, darling.”

Your eyes darted to your father in the mirror. You could see his figure peeking out from the doorway and into your room from the reflection of your vanity table. Mary made quick work of clasping on your necklace, adjusting it slightly so it was centered right between your collarbones and stepped away from you.

You murmured a quiet ‘thank you,’ and faced your father with a frown.

“Mother want’s me to court someone. She said this ball is a good opportunity to meet someone.”

Your father crossed his arms and tutted his head up in a swift motion.

“My only daughter? Courting someone? No, tell your mother to wait for you to be at least eighty.”

You raised one brow at him and leaned against the vanity, propping up your elbow.

“Dad, I’m not going to wait sixty years to just court someone.” With that, you rotated your seat so you could face the mirror again.

George walked over to you and clamped a hand over your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror.

“Fine. But if you’re going to court someone, wait a few years before marriage at least. And the man better be capable of courting my daughter. I’ll decide if he’s good enough.” His statement was halfheartedly playful and serious.

You rolled your eyes and slumped your shoulders,

“he definitely requires your blessing for my hand, but I believe I can court whoever I please to.”

He shook his head at your stubbornness,

“sure, honey. Let’s just get you ready and head downstairs and into the ballroom, okay? The Winter’s Ball is going to be the most important one of the century!”

You smiled at your father’s enthusiasm,

“Lucky for you, I just finished getting ready when you came in.”

“Great, then allow me to escort you down.”

Your father held out his arm for you to link and you did so, happily.

Both of you walked out, arm in arm, out of your room and down the extravagant curved stairway that was covered in flowers. You were hauled up in your room all day trying on every dress your mother threw at you that you haven’t noticed the flight of stairs in your house was decorated nicely. Besides the flowers, you were oblivious to the crowd of people that quieted at the sight of you linking arms with Washington. Noting this, he leaned over and whispered,

“Seems you’re the main attraction.”

At his words, you scanned the wave of people with wide eyes. Your eyes shone with excitement as you smiled and let your hand linger over the flowers you passed on your way down.

“Is that Washington’s daughter?”

“Think I have a chance to court her?”


Everybody grabbed someone and whispered among themselves, trying to pry their eyes off of you. Washington smiled at this and grinned,

“with this much appeal, you’ll be marrying someone by the end of the night.”

You laughed quietly, trying to scan the crowd for someone suitable to dance with. It was quick, but your eyes met with brown ones. They belonged to someone who tied back brown hair and a goatee.

“Not without your blessing, of course.” You joked, diverting your gaze from the stranger.

“Good. But, just, don’t go for one of my soldiers, okay? If things go wrong at war I don’t want to risk your heartbreak.”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. Removing your hand from the scattered roses you held it up to your forehead, saluting him playfully.

“Yes, sir!”

“Y/N,” He chortled. Removing his arm from yours and placing it on the small of your back, he pushed you forward.

“Good luck.” With those words, you were in the crowd. Instead of getting lost in it, everybody moved aside so you had plenty of room to yourself. You politely smiled and shook hands with anybody and everybody that greeted you. It wasn’t a shock that half of the people that came up to you wanted to have an upper hand than others and wanted to have some sort of connection with the Washington family.

“Ms. Washington,”

“If you want to talk to my father, he’s open. I ask of you, please do not socialize with me just to talk to my father-” You groaned at your drink, swirling it slightly and spoke without sparing a glance at the speaker. The voice chuckled lightly,

“Actually, miss, I’m here to ask for a dance.” Your eyes quickly snapped up to the speaker and you apologized quickly for the misconception.

“Oh! I apologize,” awkwardly, you laughed.

He held out his hand for you to take, and gladly, you did. You didn’t let it go unnoticed that this was the same man you’ve seen among the flock of people a few moments ago. He had the same chocolate brown eyes you could get lost in. A few strands of hair strayed from his ponytail and onto his face, giving him a frazzled look, but you admired it either way.

“Washington, Y/N.”

He smiled at you and placed a hand against your clothed waist.

“Hamilton, Alexander.”

You raised an eyebrow and returned the grin,

“Hamilton? You’re one of my father’s soldiers.”

You both swayed to the music. He dipped you low and pushed closer,

“that bad?”

Your feet clanked against the floor with a thud, and you used it as leverage to push yourself up, causing Alexander to stumble a bit.

“I was told not to marry a man that worked for my father.”

His head tilted to the side, and he twirled you before pulling you back flush against his shoulder.

“Who said anything about ‘marriage?’“

Your breath hitched. You just had to say that, didn’t you? God damn you and your loud mouth. But it was too far to turn back now and embarrass yourself further, so instead of backpedaling you carried on with your burst of confidence.

“I believe I didn’t stutter, I just mentioned it.”

His grin morphed into a smirk.

“You’re very straight forward.”

“So I’ve been told,”

from the corner of your eye you could see everybody switching partners. Hamilton seemed to take notice of this too, so he let out a toothy smile and spun you into someone else’s arms.


“’till we meet again, Hamildin.”

“Hamilton.” He corrected, still spinning you.

“Right,” with that, you were in another man’s arms. He had curly hair tied back into a ponytail. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Hamilton was a handful. Sure, you were used to being flirted with, but doing the flirting is something you never imagined yourself to do. It just seemed out of the picture whenever talking to any other guy. You, yourself didn’t realize you had the capability to flirt. And from the results of it, you were proud you did.

“Mademoiselle.” The deep voice startled you a bit but after a bit of composing, you faced your new partner with a bright smile.

“Lafayette, je vous ai manqué!” /I missed you/

“Moi aussi, mon ami.” /me too, my friend/

He paused to take a quick glance behind you and at Alexander, who was currently dancing with Margaret Schuyler. /that’s peggy lol/ His attention quickly diverted back to Peggy once he caught on to Lafayette’s eyes that stood warily on him with a suggestive grin.

“Je vois que vous connaissez le Tomcat.” /I see you know the Tomcat/

“Tomcat?” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head in confusion and amusement.


“il a l'air sympa, charmant, même.” /he seems nice, charming, even/

Lafayette narrowed his eyes at you before breaking out into a grin, quickly disregarding his French language to speak to you straightly.

“You’re falling for him, Y/N.”

“I am not!” You slammed your foot against the wooden floor, mimicking a child’s actions. Lafayette bellowed, spinning you back to Alexander and taking Peggy into his arms from Alexander. Both of you switched partners and now you were back to Alexander, dancing with him and adjusting to the different partner you now sported.

“You just couldn’t get enough of me, could you?” Your eyebrow raised at his words, trying to suppress a roll of your eyes to remain your ladylike aura and the reputation as ‘Washington’s only, lovely, quiet daughter.’ But you couldn’t help but let a little bit of sass slip past your cherry tinted lips.

“Oh? I seem to believe it was the other way around. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of me while I was dancing with Lafayette. Or am I wrong, Hamilton?” He paused his dancing at your comment, freezing his movements, causing your grin to grow twice it’s size. He shook it off, returning back to his smug attitude.

“Please, no formality from such a pretty girl. I’d prefer for you to address me as Alexander,” he leaned into you, pressing his chest against yours. The chocolate brown eyes you adored flickered from your orbs to your parted lips, and you swore his face was getting closer to yours. You could feel his breath fanning over yours, mixing.

“Besides, that’s what you’ll be screaming later.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you could a feel a pool of heat swirl around in your stomach. Butterflies swarmed it as you longed to feel his lips against yours. But before you could feel that, your eyes glanced over to the side to see George Washington, your father, getting a clear view of what was happening. He held his glass with champagne with a raised eyebrow, as if he was mocking you he puckered his lips and pressed the rim of his glass against it. You let out a breath and pulled away from Alexander, still in his arms but with enough space so that your face wasn’t inches away from his.

“I think I prefer calling you Hamilton, if that’s alright.”

You could see the disappointment flash across his face and you almost felt bad. Almost.

“No, of course. Whatever fits you best.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand, removing it from your waist and taking a quick scan of the room to make sure nobody had their eyes on the two of you.

“Great! Now let’s get outside before my father starts questioning where I’ve went.”

Hamilton, who was somehow able to mask his disappointment with amusement, trailed behind you and chuckled.

“Someone’s eager to get their dress hiked up.”

You continued to walk elegantly towards your destination, scowling at Hamilton’s words.

“Gross. If you want the privilege of having fornication with me, you’ll have to court and place a ring on me first.”

Hamilton shrugged as you tugged his arm from behind you.

“Guess I can wait for you.”

You smiled at this and removed your hand from his to pull open two tall, grand, glass, double doors. You made your way out onto the balcony. The wind of the night hit you square in the face, brushing past the hair that sat on your shoulders onto your back. Your eyes narrowed from the burst of wind, but you didn’t let it bother so much that you spun yourself and laid your warm fingers against a cool railing.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You questioned, staring up at the night sky. The question was more directed to yourself than him, but he answered anyways.

“It is,”

You were so concentrated on watching the stars twinkle that you almost didn’t register that he laid both of his hands against your waist and pressed the front of his body against the back of yours. With a bit of annoyance that he took your attention away from the view you slightly turned your head so that you could take a peek at him from over your shoulder.

“This seems a little suggestive, what’s the rush? Didn’t you say you could wait?”

He closed his eyes and laid his head against your shoulder.

“I know, and I did.” He opened his eyes to see you smiling down at him. He, too, smiled at the sight.

“I’m not doing this to get closer with your father, or for the sex. God, Y/N, I want to live this moment with you forever.”

You felt your jaw clamp shut and you cheeks burned with something you identified as blushing. Your laugh was small, making it painfully obvious how flustered you were. Quickly, you turned your head away from him to focus on the stars again. Cocking an eyebrow and snickering, he reached forward and placed a hand against your cheek, lightly pulling so you could return to looking at him. You could have easily pulled away and continued to stare at the bright forms of gas that float in the sky, but instead, you turned your head with his touch and melted into it. Once your eyes met with his, you felt something more than just a want. You needed this man. He smiled at you adoringly and you turned your entire body to meet his. 

“Damn, what I would pay to see this forever.”

Both of your brows flew upwards and you laughed loudly, unattractively even.

“That was a sad try, Hamilton.”

He let out a small noise, that could pass as either a scoff or a laugh, you were unsure of which it was.

“You’re adorable when you laugh, much better than the ‘I’m practically the princess of the states’ act you wear.”

You jaw opened in offense as you leaned against the railing and crossed your arms over your chest, puffing it up.

“I don’t put up a princess act!” You huffed.

“Please, I can see the crown sitting atop of your head.” You rolled your eyes and shoved a finger against Hamilton’s chest, pushing him back.

“Oh, yeah?” 

You cleared your throat and let out a quick puff of air.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton. I’m the biggest flirt in the world and I have a strong belief I can get any girl into my bed!” You laughed. He opened his mouth to protest, but you continued,

“If your ego was a person it’d be taller than you.”

“Hey! I’m not that short.” He whined.

“Yeah? I’m almost the same height as you.”

He eyed your head, double taking your height difference. He searched his head for any sort of excuse or comeback,

“you’re wearing heels.”

Your body shook from laughter, not caring about formality with Alexander anymore. You both were beyond formalities at this point.

Lifting part of your dress for Hamilton to see, you wiggled your feet to show that you in fact weren’t wearing heels, but flats. He grunted.

“Okay, I’m short. But I’ve got the brain twice my size.”

Snickering you spoke up,

“don’t forget your ego is too.”

It took a little longer than last time to compose himself, but he straightened out his posture and smiled,

“it’s good to have a big ego. It shows confidence.”

“Yep, narcissism is definitely the way to a girl’s heart.” You quipped.

He inched towards you, thought you didn’t notice it and placed both of his hands against your cheeks, pulling your face against his. The feeling of his slightly chapped lips against your smooth ones cut off your laughter. Your eyes shot open from revelation. Your eyes scanned over his face, checking to see if he meant was he did, but no matter how hard you tried to seek for it all you could see was his closed eyes and flushed cheeks.

After a few seconds of convincing yourself he wanted this, wanted you, you allowed your eyes to shut and enjoy the moment. Though, with the need for oxygen coming in the way, he pulled away and eyed you to check if you regretted anything, just as you did a few seconds earlier. Instead of what he expected to be you pulling away and mumbling about how the kiss was a mistake, you smiled widely at him and let your eyes flutter shut again.

“Damn.” Both of you were breathless from the kiss and from each other’s presence.

Your hands flew to his jaw to hold as his adjusted to your waist, slowly maneuvering downwards.

“Keep your hands above the equator, son.”

Startled from the sudden voice, you jumped away from Hamilton as he did you. Your eyes searched the balcony for the owner to the voice and when it fell flat against the speaker, you groaned and buried your face into your hands, turning more red than you were before.


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