the first one is funny because the actual color is bastard amber

Yellow (Peggy x Fem!Reader)

Hello lovely people! My name is Angelina and this is my first imagine for Hamilton! I’ve been wanting to start a Hamilton blog for a long time but I’ve never worked up the courage. I have another writing blog for girl meets world, but since it ended I figured I should start this. I’m really nervous, but I hope you guys enjoy this! Please, please, PLEASE give me feedback. I would love to know your thoughts and any criticisms you may have. So, without any further ado, here is a cringe-worthy Peggy x Fem!Reader imagine :) (I know this sucks, but honestly I’m just trying to get a feel for writing for this new set of characters) 

(Y/E/C)= your eye color

Prompt List//Request Something//Masterlist

Prompts used: 

5) You’re cute when you’re jealous.

83) Are you drunk right now?

155) Do I look okay? I don’t normally wear things like this.

Warnings: alcohol/ getting drunk, cursing

Summary: Peggy slowly starts to realize that she loves Y/N, but will jealousy and one too many shots ruin her chances?


Originally posted by elo-art

Peggy’s POV

“Open up please! It’s freezing and your food is almost as cold as I am!” I hear her voice from the other side of the door to my New York apartment. I rush to open the heavy wood door and immediately drag her inside.

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The Case of the Shady Santas

Doing a bit of self promotion today: This was my 2015 Gutter Flower Secret Santa gift for @spartanguard

Summary: The local charity Give a Care has a shady Santa in the house. One of their bell-ringing Santas is skimming donations. Private investigators Emma Swan and Killian Jones need to find the thief quickly and quietly. As they spend the day chasing leads, will an office flirtation blossom into something more?

Rated: F for fluff (There is innuendo, but no smut—I’m a virgin fanfic writer, y’all. Maybe next time.)

Words: 3K+

Notes: For those who don’t know what bell-ringing Santas are: In the U.S.—and in some other countries that celebrate Christmas, I believe—some charities have traditionally solicited donations during the holiday season outside shops and on street corners. Generally, there is someone who rings a bell (and says Merry Christmas, etc.) next to a stand with large kettle for cash. Sometimes these people are dressed as Santa Claus. I haven’t actually seen one in years, so I don’t know if they actually take credit cards, but not many people carry cash anymore and I needed a plot device to identify the shady Santa. So in my universe they take credit exactly how I’ve portrayed it.

Emma Swan roared up to the modest looking townhouse in her bright yellow VW bug, and leaned out the window, yelling, “Come on Jones,” at the man currently locking the front door.
“Jones” was Killian Jones, Emma’s fellow private investigator and a menace to society.
Watching as he approached the car, all dark, artfully tousled hair and perfect scruff, Emma mumbled under her breath, “No one should be that fucking hot.”

Sliding into the passenger side with a quirk of his perfect eyebrows, Killian grinned and said, “At your service, milady.”
It should have been a cheesy line, but it wasn’t. He wasn’t. It wasn’t just that damn, sexy British accent, either. He was charming and funny and smart and had amazingly blue eyes that looked like the ocean and despite her best efforts, she had fallen for him. But Emma Swan didn’t do relationships. At least that’s what she told herself.

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