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The fact that she put an extra swish in those hips when she realized he was looking. ❤️
Oh, she was SWITCHING those hips. TBH this gifset doesn’t do justice to this exchange–especially Madi’s part in it. I couldn’t fit in the moment she lifts her eyes to meet Silver’s or the way she holds his gaze, so steady and fearless and beautiful. I can see myself doing several gifs of this moment - I love it that much!
Request:@wonderfullyrandomhamilton - Polyhamilsquad where they find out the reader isn’t eating? I’m in need of comfort/angst/fluff. If you’re cool with that of course.
Warnings: eating disorder related things
The bedroom was freezing so you slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Alex or John up. Laf and Herc both snored obnoxiously loud and were exiled to the guest room that you had to sneak past on your way to the living room. All you wanted was to sit in front of the fireplace, but Laf had insisted on an older home where everything squeaked because he needed the “character.” You were never able to sleep through the boys coming home later from work or midnight snacks or other late night activities. It was a beautiful house, Laf refused anything else, but it had taken you much trial and error to figure out exactly how to move around the house without waking anyone up.
Once you got downstairs, you fumbled around looking for a lighter. You’d been shaking all day and now you couldn’t stop shivering, even with the two sweatshirts you were wearing. It was excessive, sure, but nothing had warmed you up at all, which is why you were trying a fire. You could feel the cold of the floor through your thick, fuzzy socks that Herc had knit for you a while ago and you started sorting through things as quickly as you could without making too much noise to get to the carpet. After a few more minutes of digging, you finally found a lighter in the junk draw, so named because whenever you guys were too tired to clean, which was almost always, the things on the kitchen counters were just shoved into that drawer.
When you started back to the living room, your head started getting fuzzy and you couldn’t quite get your eyes to focus. It wasn’t a huge deal, you were just going to sit down. It would pass eventually. This happened a lot lately and you didn’t want to start making a big deal out of it now. But when you moved towards the couch, you couldn’t keep yourself up anymore. Before you knew it, you were falling to the floor. Your head hit the edge of the coffee table and then the floor with a thud. The last thing you heard was someone running down the stairs.
Alex had moved you to the couch while you were out. When you woke up, your head was resting in his lap. He was talking quickly with Gilbert in French, which you had always hated. They always seemed so suspicious or liked they were fighting. It was the same when Alex and John had conversations in Spanish. You and Herc spent a lot of time exchanging exasperated looks.
“Babe,” you mumbled after a minute. “Shut up.”
“Hey!” Alex said with a sigh of relief.
“Mm. What were you talking about?” you tried to sit up, just to be pushed back down.
“You hit your head. You’re not getting up,” Alex scolded. “And we weren’t talking about anything.”
“You, Alexander Hamilton, weren’t talking about anything? Do you hear how fake you sound right now?” you rose a brow.
Gilbert moved your legs and sat on the couch. He put your legs over his, rubbing them a little. “How are you feeling?”
“I think I’m fine,” you shrugged. “I’m kinda thirsty.”
“Freckles!” Alex yelled before you could even finish talking. He didn’t notice you wince at the volume of his voice.
“Yeah?” came John’s reply from the kitchen, just as loud as Alex.
“Can you get water and something for (Y/N) to eat? Please,” Alex called back. Thankful there wasn’t a reply. You closed your eyes again and listened to John slam cabinets as he rummaged through the kitchen. No one else in the house knew how to be quiet, apparently. You had only just registered that you had a splitting headache.
“Ibuprofen, please,” you whimpered. Alex opened his mouth to yell for John again, but you rushed to cut him off when you heard him take the breath. “I love you, but if you yell again, I’m going to have to kill you. Wait until he gets in here or something. It’s okay.”
You could could just feel him roll his eyes. The only reason you let it go was because it hurt to do anything. Just as you thought you were going to get a little bit of quiet, Alex and Gilbert started talking in rapid French again. You moaned softly and tried to cover your eyes with your arm, but really just elbowed Alex in the stomach. The fucker didn’t even wince. What an asshole.
Thankfully John came in and set something on the table a few minutes later, which stopped the other two from talking. “Hey, peaches,” he murmured as he knelt down in front of you.
“Hey,” Alex and Laf replied in unison.
“I was talking to the hurt one, idiots,” John rolled his eyes. “You two can be awfully slow for geniuses.”
You snorted, wincing at your mistake. It hurt your head more than you thought it was going to. John took your hand and played with your fingers.
“Where’s Herc?” you turned your head towards John as much as you could.
“He is upstairs stress knitting. You know that he hates seeing you sick or hurt,” Gilbert answered. “Are you sick?”
“No, I fell,” you grumbled.
“Well, we got that much. Why did you fall? Did you trip?” Alex retorted and started stroking your hair.
“Why with all the questions? My head hurts. I fell, that’s all,” you snapped. John pressed featherlight kisses over the back of your hand. You knew he was trying to calm you down, but you also knew that they weren’t going to like any of the answers you had for their questions. You just wanted them to let it go and you knew they weren’t going to.
“Gilly is going to text Herc and tell him to bring something down for your headache, okay?” John kissed your forehead.
You nodded just enough so that he would see. Gilbert shifted to get his phone from his pocket. You groaned when he started typing. He had his sound on all the way up because apparently he was a middle aged white mom. You felt Alex reach over and the sound stopped. If you could have moved, you would have kissed him more passionately than you had ever kissed anyone before. In that moment, he was like an angel to you. From asshole to angle in like fifteen minutes. How on earth was that even close to fair?
Herc came running down the stairs, each step landing and producing both a thud and a squeak from the stairs. You winced at every footfall until he made it to the living room. Alex and Gilbert helped you sit up so that you could take whatever it was Herc had brought. The bottle rattled rather loudly for a minute before John handed you a few of the pills and the glass of water he had brought in earlier. You downed the pills and chugged the water without opening your eyes. John took the glass back to set it on the table again.
“Do you want to stay sitting up or lay back down?” he asked, obviously being careful to keep his voice down.
“Doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. He kissed you softly before he laid you back down across Alex and Gilbert. You heard the table being dragged across the floor so that Herc could sit next to John on the floor in front of you. You felt all of their eyes on you, you felt the silence, you felt the worry, and it all got to be too much.
“I fell because I haven’t been eating. I’ve been spacey for a while, but it hasn’t been a big deal. I’ve been fine,” you blurted. You realized that you had been almost unintelligible, but there was no way you were going to be able to repeat yourself, so you hoped they understood it.
The boys were quiet for a long time. Now that you needed noise, they were fucking silent. You weren’t able to keep yourself from crying. All of this was too much. Someone started stroking your cheek delicately, as though they might break you.
“Why?” Alex asked.
“‘Why?’” you scoffed. “Look at all of you. You’re all perfect. Stunning. And I’m- I’m not. I just want people to think that I belong with you.”
“But you’re perfect. Better looking than anyone here, including me,” Gilbert said, followed by an insulted “hey” from the other three.
“Girls, girls, please. You’re all beautiful,” you tsked playfully.
Hercules sighed. “We all think you belong. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?”
“We love every bit of you,” John took your hand again. “You don’t need to starve yourself to try and please people who are just out there making people feel like shit just for some weird power trip or whatever.”
“What’s that one song? That that Megan chick wrote?” Alex furrowed his brow. You all groaned.
“You are such an old man, my love,” Gilbert chuckled.
“But we all love him anyway,” Herc winked at Alex. “And if we can accept that flaw, I’m pretty sure we can accept you and your nonexistent flaws.”
You smiled a little. “I guess.”
“They’re being incredibly rude, but they have a good point,” Alex rubbed your arm.
“We’re just telling the truth. If you weren’t such a dad, then we wouldn’t have to call you out for it,” John snickered. From there, the conversation dissolved into a bunch of insults while they all spent as much time kissing you or showing you affection however they could while they were talking. You fell asleep to them making fun of John for his southern pet names.
You’d be surprised to hear that most Americans (correct me if I’m wrong, folks, but I’m basing this on personal experience) use salted butter. I only use unsalted because I like to salt to taste and salt is a preservative so my understanding has always been that unsalted is fresher (shorter shelf life).