your face in general sir

anonymous asked:

138 washette?

(;-; last one!)
At first sight, he was nothing like George had ever experienced in his life. 

“General Washington, I present to you  Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette” a young commander managed to get it all out in one breath. While the commander was catching his breath, George for a moment lost his. He had seen young men come and go in his fleet. He’d seen good men die on the field and some raise up through the ranks. They were all the same, scrappy, faces forged by rebellion and eyes that burned with a kill or be killed fire. This young man, held no sort of flame.

At least not in the forefront of his face. 

He was young, like his aide-de-camp and aspiring soldiers. However his eyes were different they were…softened. Like a child who was always curious, a smile dancing on his lips lazily without much thought. He looked more like man who was on a trip rather than joining a war. He didn’t seem angry or vindictive, he didn’t seem worried or nervous. He took in the campsite, the American soldiers and then looked over George with tenderness no stranger ever showed him before. “A pleasure.” Lafayette crossed towards George, the General had his hand out for him but instead of the routine shake of a hand Laf wrapped his arms around his neck. He placed two soft kisses on either side of George’s face. “I’ve heard so much of your greatness, Sir General.” 

Baffled, Washington blinked dumbly while Hamilton, his aide to his right, poorly stifled his laughter. Warmth swelled on his throat and face, keeping the General mute for a moment. Tenderness was not a common gesture in war…he had almost forgotten what it was like to be touched so kindly in truth. It was a sort of kindness Lafayette wore well. “The pleasure is all mine…” George smiled, trying to peel his thoughts away from Laf. “I’m elated to know we have supporters in France…it will do us will in the Revolution.” 

“When I heard America was fighting for her freedom, I had no choice but to answer her call to arms…she fights for all of us, no?” Lafayette’s eyes seemed to dim in their tenderness. In such a short time, George had gone from awing at Laf’s incredible ability to retain a carefree softness, to watching it fade and now wishing it would return. 

George watched as those eyes that seemed so innocent now seemed to darken. So there was a solider behind the frills of a good looking lad. Of course he was handsome, he had that European air to him. Stood a little too straight, smiled a little too kindly, touched a little too liberally but Washington didn’t seem to mind that all. “Are you cold?” He asked just as an exceptionally chilly wind kicked up the tail ends of their jackets. 

“Oh…oui” Lafayette nodded once, “ a tad” 

“Come, we’ll converse more inside.” He held out his arm and as if this was no more stranger than the breaths George slowly took in to steady his heart, Laf walked over and ducked under the arm. 

“Very well” Laf looked up at the General as his arm protectively whisked the French man to private quarters. 

“Hamilton, get the Roch Marie–” 

“Lafayette will do…” Laf gently corrected the beloved General, taking a spot on a chair, rubbing his hands for warmth. 

Washington looked at him and shook his head a bit, the naivety was refreshing. No one other than his dear aide Alexander spoke to him so freely. It was a welcomed casual tone that reminded him after the war…he was still just a man. “Hamilton will you kindly find Lafayette some throws.” 

My Happy Ending (Phillip Hamilton x Reader)

A/N: Oh dag, my first imagine! I hope you guys like it! This WILL include Phillip’s death, sadly, but I will make one that has an alternate ending in the future. I had to look up so any horse riding facts to write this, oops.Enjoy!
TW: None
Time period: Old!
Basically: (y/n) is the daughter of a friend of Martha Washington’s. Unfortunately, the friend recently came down with a horrible sickness, and in fear for her daughter’s health, sent (y/n) to New York to stay with her dear friend and her husband, George. (y/n) meets the son of Washington’s right-hand man, and her world is turned upside down.

Your fingers danced delicately over the keys of the piano, the sound filling the large room around you with gentle noises. You could hear a bird chirping somewhere outside, and horses being let out of their stables. The room was elegant, of course, nothing less for the president of the new colonies. Limited contact had actually occurred between you and Washington himself, seeing as you both weren’t prone to verbal conversations.
An opened door cued a halt to your practice and made you turn slightly. There stood Washington, and two men, one of which looked to be the other’s father. Quickly, you stood up and curtseyed politely, your (h/c) hair falling slightly into your face.
“Good afternoon, General Washington, and to you as well, sirs.” You quietly voiced. Everything in your head screamed not polite enough.
“Likewise, (y/n). Your piano playing sounded exceptional today.” He replied, giving you a gentle, fatherly smile. This, in turn, forced a small blush on your face. “This is Alexander Hamilton, and his son, Phillip.”
“It’s a pleasure, madam.” Alexander merely bowed, while Phillip stepped forward to take your hand, and after placing his lips on your knuckles, stated his own greeting.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. General Washington has already told us much about you.” The blush on your face deepened, and both George and Alexander noticed. You quirked an eyebrow at Washington and he held up both of his hands in a surrendering motion. “All good things, I can say with certainty.” Phillip reassured. A laugh escaped your mouth and Alexander put his hand on Phillip’s shoulder.
“One of the traits that the General has glorified was your ability to ride. Is this true?” It was, it was your favorite past-time. In fact, as soon as you arrived in New York, Washington bought a new horse in order to make you feel more at home.
“Yes, sir.” You could sense a proposition coming on. “Is there something you need to ask me?”
A glint sparked in Alexander’s eyes and he laughed.
“Lawyer’s intuition! There is something.”
Phillip cut in.
“Before my father exaggerates the issue, I have never been fond of horses, so therefore I’m not the best in riding them…”  He seemed to struggle in saying his next words.
“Do you want me to help you?”
“There’s no time like the present!” You smile at Phillip and turn to Washington, who was quietly conversing with Alexander. “Do you mind if Phillip rides your horse?”
“We’re riding today?” Concern stained Phillip’s voice.
“Right now.” You confirm.
After changing to a more suitable dress, you led Phillip down to the stables, Alexander and Washington watching from his back balcony.
“Do you know how to mount a horse?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll let you get on Glory before I get on mine, so I can make sure of that.”
“Washington named his horse Glory?” Phillip asked, glancing at the large horses ahead. “Which one is yours?”
You gestured to a tall horse, grazing freely inside of the fence.
“Her name is Asgard.”
“She’s giant!” Phillip exclaimed, knotting his eyebrows. You could see that he was walking directly behind Glory, an action that he would one day regret. However, Glory made the decision not to kick the hell out of Phillip.
“Do you realize the Glory could have just killed you?” You ask nonchalantly, placing a saddle on him. A breath escapes Phillip’s mouth before he quickly jumps next to you. As soon as you finish, you gesture to Glory.
“Okay. Get on.”
“Do you really not have that much confidence in me?” He feigns hurt, and puts his right foot in the stirrup.
“You’re already wrong. Left foot.” You correct, and he swings himself up onto Glory. “Good, now don’t kill yourself before I can come back.”
Soon, you both reach the top of a large hill, Washington’s house still in view. You jumped off of Asgard, exhilaration running through your veins. Phillip still had yet to figure out how to get Glory to go faster than a trot. The wind blew through your hair and you released a laugh when Phillip finally dismounted Glory.
“That was…” He hesitated. “Equal parts horrifying and amazing.”
“When we get you all the way up to a gallop, you’ll love it, I ensure.” You sit down on the grass and Phillip copies your motion. Soon, you both began to talk of menial things, like poetry or French. After, talk began to take a slightly darker tone as he asked about your mother.
“She’s a wondrous woman. Our father left when I was young, for which the reasons are unknown. She has taken care of me and made sure I grew to be sensible, and I love her dearly.”
“Pardon me for asking, but why aren’t you with her?”
“She is severely ill. The doctors assure me that it may be treatable, but I know better than that. She will die.”
I didn’t know that I was crying until Phillip’s gentle fingers wiped a tear from my cheek. Again, it looked as though he was struggling to talk.
“If you ever need a mother figure, my mom is pretty amazing!”
I laughed and grew to admire Phillip’s mother as he spoke highly of her. According to his description, Eliza is a remarkable woman, both smart and beautiful. She can raise multiple children and help Alexander when he stays up long after hours.
The glint in Phillip’s eye is endearing, and I can tell that he holds so much love for his family. Something inside me wishes he would speak of me this way, full of admiration and excitement. There’s no doubt there’s tension between Phillip and I, but I am not sure if he reciprocates the same feelings.
“(y/n)“ He says, catching your attention. “We have only known each other for a day, but may I assume something?” He continued after you nodded. “There is something between us, and I’m not quite sure what it is. This feels like what Father said he felt right after he met Mother. He said that it was terrifying, but it was the best feeling ever, but he didn’t say that I would be so god damn nervous.”
“Phillip, what are you trying to say?” You hoped that he would say what you wanted to hear…
“I’m trying to say that I… (y/n), I-” He cut himself off by placing his lips on yours. From what novels you read, this action was supposed to feel like sparks or an explosion. This felt nothing like that. This felt like a warm welcome home, gentle words after a long day, or the feeling of knowing you’re loved. This felt simply right. Your lips moved in sync, and only the sound of a distinct yell pulled you both away.
“Yes! That’s my son! Yes!” Alexander was shouting from the balcony, while Washington simply stood back and watched him in fascination. Phillip’s fingers on your jaw turned you back to look at him. Your lips tingled, as if inhaling on a wintry day.
“(y/n), may I court you?”
You answered with another chaste kiss, a smile gracing both of your faces.

Tears blurred your vision as every possible negative outcome infected your mind. Passerby  had informed you of Phillip’s duel, and you rushed to ride into town, not bothering with a carriage. In the span of two years, you lost your mother, and both George and Martha Washington. You took up residence above a barber shop not far from the Washington estate, but even closer to the stables. Now, after all the death the has plagued your life, you may have to suffer another. As you approached the Hamilton house, you hastily tied your horse to a post and rushed inside. Alexander and Eliza were hunched over a bed, one that contained your dying fiancé. Alexander turned to you, and you could see the tear stain and the red eyes.
“(y/n)“ He engulfed you in a hug as tears finally began to fall. “Here, Eliza, give her a moment.” The beautiful woman you had come to accept as your mother simply switched to the other side of the bed, refusing to leave her son’s side. You couldn’t blame her.
“Phillip.” You whispered as you got close to him, grabbing his clammy hand. The calling of his name stirred him to open his eyes, not fully, but just enough to where you could see his eye color. “Phillip, please don’t leave me.” Sobs wracked your body and you pressed his hand to your lips.
“(y/n), you came.” He whispered, his voice dying.
“Of course I came, you didn’t think I wouldn’t?” You both softly chuckled, which invoked a spur of coughing from Phillip.
“(y/n), I’m so sorry. I love you more than anything in this existence. I always will.” The death rattle cut the air, the sound something you had become all to familiar with.
“I love you too, Phillip, which is why you have to- you MUST push through this. Remember our dreams?”
“Repeat them to me, love.” A sad smile crossed your face.
“We are going to get a small home in Manhattan, where it’s quiet, and you can be a lawyer, and I can play piano for you while you study, and we can have two horses. We will visit France and go on wondrous adventures together, and our children will look up to us and dream that their ending is as happy as ours, and when we get old, we will be old and happy and-”
A hand was placed on your shoulder, and tears soaked your dress.
“He’s gone, (y/n). I’m sorry.”