#john lauren’s imagine

[astralaffairs]

put a ring on it 06

title: put a ring on it 06 pairing: philip hamilton x reader words: 15k warnings: gratuitous smut, daddy kink a/n: this is the last part! excepting maybe an epilogue. we'll see on that one. i hope you enjoy it, and it feels very strange for me to be finally finishing this after 6 years. desc: You’ve never liked Philip Hamilton, and you've always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you’re roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away and find them instead taking form in his smile. tags: @beepbeepstop @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @tf2germanvillain @ela-ena @abundant-stars @heytheredee-lilah @katierpblogg @thisshitfucks @celyndavies @quixoticallydelusional @sothisishappiness @ems-alexandra @yxseminx @sadhwstudent @aiifandomsunite @loonaynay @valleryhyde @lxncelot @checkurwindow @katierpblogg @alievans007@nyxie75 @ii-moonlight-ii @sothisishappiness @ems-alexandra @elegantbutedgy @maxi-ride @moose-on-the-l00se @itshaileyn @someinsanefangirl @theirishhufflepuff @golddiggs-x @drreamhugs @sillyteecup @notebookgirl30 @marvelouslyemily @checkurwindow @kmsmedine 

“What do you mean, you kissed him?”

“I know.” You were in Philip’s room then, calling Patsy for the second time that afternoon. You cringed, pinching the bridge of your nose. As far as you were concerned, the world had been turned entirely on its head since you last spoke with her. “It just… I don’t know; it all happened so fast. I have so much to tell you.”

You recounted your conversation with Peggy, the debacle with your “engagement,” Philip’s reaction to it, and finally, when you found yourself alone with him up in his bedroom, holding him tightly, kissing him softly. It had been five hours since you last called her.

————

EARLIER

At first, he didn’t kiss you back.

When your lips met his, he froze — his embrace was tense, his body rigid against yours as he processed what you’d done, but it was within a moment that he was responding to your touch. He pulled you closer with the hand at the small of your back, and he held you gently, savoring the feeling of your body. That was when you realized what you’d done.

You pulled back abruptly when his tongue brushed against your lower lip, and your eyes were wide. Your words were caught in your throat; you were struggling to keep from choking on them as you pushed yourself off of him, scrambled off of his lap, and his hand was still hovering where your head had been, grasping at the cold air where your warm skin retreated from. His brow was furrowed as he watched you.

“I…” You trailed off, your attempts to speak coming out as stuttered, breathy syllables. “Fuck. I… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… fuck.”

“Wait, Y/N, don’t—” But you were already standing, fixing your dress where it’d bunched up around your waist and making your way to the door. “Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Philip, but I can’t…” You trailed off, trying to find the words, but you let out a frustrated huff, shaking your head as you left.

“Hey, c’mon, wait.” You were still scolding yourself as he went after you, followed you down the staircase. When you neared the bottom of the stairs, his family was hovering — not waiting for you, but within earshot. Philip grabbed you by the arm. “Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about." His hold on your bicep was gentle, and you didn't struggle to pull away from his grip. You scoffed, cursing yourself inaudibly as you continued down.

“Y/N.” He had paused behind you, but when you didn’t stop, he sighed heavily, and his footsteps were hardly audible over the noise from his family as he hurried after you. He didn't take long to catch up to you, and your teeth clenched when he reached you, walking alongside you with a hand at the small of your back. "What the hell just happened?" he asked urgently.

"A mistake," you insisted, turning your head hardly enough so that he could hear you.

"Then why did you do it?"

You ignored him entirely as one of his relatives caught you by the arm, congratulating you in passing on your engagement, and you offered her a smile in return, squeezed her forearm affectionately. Philip was still staring down at you, visibly annoyed.

"Y'know, if we're gonna pull off this whole 'engaged' thing, you've gotta start acting more like my fiancé." You glanced back with an eyebrow raised.

He huffed. "Sorry if there's something else on my mind right now."

"Just don't let your family see," you told him in a sing-song voice as you caught sight of Georges approaching the pair of you.

“Hey, now there’s the happy couple.” His grin was broad as he approached the pair of you, and Philip forced a smile when Georges nudged his arm. “See, Will didn’t mess things up too bad for you. Everyone’s elated.”

You laughed, and you could only hope that he couldn’t tell that it was strained. “Thanks, Georges. Now we just have to worry about everyone nagging us to set a wedding date.”

“Oh, don’t sweat it. They’re just excited.” He raised an eyebrow, though, fixing his attention on Philip. “But I’m not gonna pretend not to be a little offended that someone hasn’t asked me to be his best man.”

“I’ll get around to it.” Despite his smile, the tension in Philip’s voice was obvious. Georges furrowed his brow.

“Is it really bothering you that much that William spilled?” he asked. “Listen, it was an accident, and—”

“I’m not mad at Will,” he cut Georges off abruptly, and you sighed. “But thanks for your concern.”

Georges pursed his lips, glancing between the two of you — apparently the pair of you weren’t playing off the events of the past few minutes as well as you would’ve hoped. After a moment of silence, Georges said, “Right. Anyway, uh, congrats, you two. I'm gonna go join Emilie outside; I guess I'll see you in a bit?"

"I, actually, am gonna go grab a jacket from my bag. It's gotten cooler out as it's gotten later." You were quick to respond, and Philip raised an eyebrow when you rested a hand on his arm, glanced to him with a strained smile. "But please, go ahead without me. I'll join you in a few."

"No, that's okay. I'll come back up with you." Philip's tone was firm, and you pressed your lips together. You were certain your discomfort was obvious, but you still had to keep up appearances.

"Really, I insist. I'll meet you back down here." Your bright smile didn't meet your eyes as you stared back up at Philip, daring him to turn this into a fight in front of Georges. He just watched you for a moment, eyeing the tension in your stare and the strain in your shoulders. Even your hand on his arm was shaky. He glanced back at Georges. He looked down at you.

"You sure that's what you want?"

"Just give me a minute. I'll be back."

He did not watch you as though he believed you'd be back in a minute. "Fine."

"Alright." Georges broke the standoff between you as he clapped a hand on Philip's shoulder, and the tension between you shattered at once as his focus was shifted. "Wanna grab some drinks? Cooler's on the porch."

Philip nodded before glancing back at you. “We’ll see you soon.”

————

That was the last thing he’d said to you before you shut yourself away in his room once more. You gave Patsy the play-by-play, and there was no doubt that you’d been gone more than just a minute.

"Holy Hell, Y/N. That… that's insane," she said, and you sighed. "Where are you now? Is everyone still around, or has most of his family gone home by now?"

"I'm in his room. A lot of them are still downstairs. I don’t have much time before someone comes looking for me, either — I told them all I was just up here getting a sweater."

"Why the hell are you in his room? Are you waiting for him?" she asked. "If you're calling me, are you sure you're ready to talk to him?"

"No, I know I'm not," you groaned. "But I don't have anywhere else to go. This is where I'm sleeping this weekend, so I don’t have any space to myself."

“Then you’d better figure something out fast.”

“I know, I know.” You sat down on the end of his bed with a huff. “But… I still don’t know how I feel about all this. Or how I feel about him. I don't know what I want."

“I think it's time to figure it out,” she said dryly. You didn’t respond, and after a moment, she asked, “Do you… regret kissing him?”

“I don’t know that, either,” you answered hesitantly.

“D’you regret running off after you kissed him?”

“God, no. I needed to — still need to — sort out how I was feeling.” You flopped onto your back on the bed as you spoke, holding your forehead. “I feel guilty about it, though. Philip obviously wanted to talk through what happened earlier, but I couldn't do it when my head was so scrambled."

"Y/N, for what it's worth, keep in mind that you called me earlier today in a panic because you thought you were crushing on him," she reminded you, "and now you kissed him. And he wants to talk to you about whatever’s going on between you. Do you really still not know what you want?"

"I…" Your voice faltered as you tried to reply. “I know what I’m feeling, but I don’t know what I want. I’m scared, Patsy. He was just trying to comfort me earlier; what if kissing him was totally out of line?”

“Did he kiss you back?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah.”

“So then who broke it off?”

“...Me.”

“Are you fucking serious right now, Y/N?” You winced at the annoyance in Patsy’s tone. “It’s been, what, five hours since we talked? Earlier, you were telling me that you thought you were only there to make his ex jealous. Now you’re telling me that even after kissing him, having him kiss you back, and you having had to have been the one who broke it off, you still don’t think he wants you? You still don’t think that’s the entire reason you’re there this weekend?”

“I…” You swallowed. “I guess so.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” she snapped. “I told you earlier that you needed to talk to him about how you were feeling, and I’m gonna say the same thing now. Don’t call me back until you’ve communicated.”

“What? Patsy, I don’t—” Your jaw went slack when the dial tone sounded, signifying that the line had dropped. She’d really had the nerve to hang up on you. And after all you’d been through.

You threw your phone onto your bed with an angry huff, and you dropped your hands onto the mattress beside you, groaning loudly.

“So that’s the whole story.” A soft voice at the door to Philip’s bedroom interrupted your pouting, however — immediately, you were shooting back up to where you sat, propped on your hands with your eyes wide. It was his sister Angelica who stood in the doorway, watching you with her arms folded. “I should’ve known you were too good to be true.”

“Angelica,” you said breathlessly. You were frozen to the spot in which you sat. She sighed, walking into his room to join you on the end of his bed. “How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it,” she admitted. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when you started talking about how, as you put it, ‘all of this was a sham,’ I kind of couldn’t help myself.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I can’t blame you.”

“Can I join you?”

“Sure.” You shifted over, and Angelica took a seat beside you. “I’m guessing you want an explanation.”

“I wouldn’t mind one,” she replied quietly. You nodded.

You gave her the abbreviated version, the gentle one; it felt merciful to omit the parts about your long-standing feud with Philip.

“I’m just here doing him a favor,” you concluded weakly, and she pursed her lips.

“Still?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I did hear that entire call,” she reminded you. Of course. “You kissed him, apparently."

"I…" You couldn't deny it. "Yeah, but… I don't know. It's complicated."

"It sounds complicated," she granted, "but I don't think you're just here doing him a favor anymore."

Your sigh was shaky. “I don’t know what you want me to say," you admitted.

"Do you care about Philip?"

"Of course." The question had you taken aback; your answer was a reflex.

"Then you should be downstairs talking to him instead of hiding up here making phone calls," she said bluntly, and your stare was bewildered. "The least you could do is have an adult conversation about what happened. Philip cares about you, y'know."

"What makes you say that?" The look Angelica gave you was disbelieving, but you didn’t think the question was out of left field. By then, it'd been reinforced by so many of his family members that you knew this was a common understanding, but you couldn't fathom why.

"We've been hearing about you in this house since you showed up as Philip's new coworker. At first it was just in passing as an update about what was going on in the office, that somebody new had joined his department, but you became a recurring character pretty quickly.” The day you’d started that job felt like a lifetime ago, both a different reality and a different version of you who’d walked into that office: recently widowed and sleepwalking through your daily life. Of course, at the time, Philip had known none of that. “I don’t know where this lie started, but Philip’s fond of you. He lights up when he’s talking about you.”

“I think he just finds me entertaining to torment,” you corrected her, but she shook her head.

“It’s always been more than that.” Her insistence was as though it were obvious, immediately apparent to everyone in his life other than you. “If you care about him at all, I think you owe him a conversation about all this.”

All you could do was nod. You wished she’d spare you the lecture, but she was right, even if you didn’t want to accept what that meant for you.

“You’re a good sister, y’know,” you said after a moment, and she smiled.

“Actually, I just like being privy to drama.”

————

You went down with her after that to find Philip — you didn’t yet know what you had to say to him, but you could at least afford him the reassurance that you weren’t avoiding him. After all, he’d done nothing wrong (if you could look past the years he’d spent spinning a lie about your workplace romance).

You found him settled in with Georges and Emilie in the midst of a heated debate over whether sushi is seafood, and he and Georges appeared to be getting worked up to a point where you couldn’t decipher which side either of them was on.

“Y/N, thank God, maybe you can settle this.” Georges was the first to notice your arrival, and your eyebrows shot up. Philip turned quickly upon hearing Georges address you.

“Hey, you came back.” Philip’s voice was soft, and you smiled as you met his eyes.

“Yeah, what did I miss?”

“Is sushi seafood?” Georges' loud voice broke any interaction you were having with Philip, and you raised your eyebrows as you looked over at him, pulling up a chair beside Philip.

“I mean, like, it doesn’t have to have fish in it. Can it be seafood if it's made without food from the sea?” you said.

“That’s what I’m saying,” an exasperated Philip piped up, and Georges groaned.

“Y’know, I hate that there’s someone here to take his side now,” he said seriously, shooting you an exhausted look. “You’re gonna be more trouble to my relationship with him than you’re worth.”

“I’m sure you must be devastated,” you replied dryly, but Emilie smiled.

“I’ve been needing someone to help me keep these two in check, so believe me when I say that I’m thrilled, at least,” she interjected. You still weren’t sure how to respond to people talking to you as if you were a new member of the family.

“Anyway, Philip, can we see your engagement ring now that the secret’s out? I just know it’s gonna be flashy,” Georges said, and Philip offered a weak smile.

“Nah, not right now.” He spared you a hesitant glance. “I don’t have it on me.”

“Where is it? You shouldn’t be leaving your engagement ring just anywhere; it’s too valuable for that.” There was concern in Emilie’s voice.

“It’s safe; don’t worry. We just packed the rings away before coming here,” he said. “I’ll show you both some other time.”

“C’mon, we wanna see it now,” Emilie said. “Can’t you just go get it? Is it upstairs with your bags?”

Philip sighed. “Emilie—”

"We'll go find it later tonight and bring it around tomorrow, alright?" you cut in, and Philip's eyebrows jumped.

"We will?"

You shrugged. "We may as well, if people are curious to see it. I think it's somewhere in one of my bags upstairs; it shouldn't take long to find."

"If you're sure," he acquiesced. You did have a ring for him, if nothing else; you just weren’t sure it would fit him.

By then, the sun was beginning to set, and you were glad that you grabbed yourself a sweater after all on your previous trip upstairs. As Philip and his friends sat and talked, you were content to mostly just listen — you didn’t have any input to offer on the stories from college you were sure they were lamenting for the thousandth time. Angelica joined you all not long after, bringing you a beer you didn’t ask for but, according to her, “you looked like you might need.” Georges and Emilie took the comment in jest, picking on Philip as your grateful gaze wandered back to Angelica. She winked.

Somewhere in the yard, one of Philip’s relatives had lit a bonfire, and after more of the family came outside, you found yourself migrating toward it with Philip in tow. He’d suggested the relocation, noticing your shivering. You’d acquiesced easily. That was how you found yourself beside him on a picnic blanket, melting into yourself where you sat with your knees folded up to your chest as fatigue ebbed at your body. Philip’s younger cousins were roasting marshmallows, and frankly, you would’ve been joining them if you had the energy. However, you were confident that you’d had a longer — and almost certainly more taxing — day than anyone around you, save for Philip. You glanced over at him.

He was watching Eliza Jr. with an amused grin as she tried to fit her small mouth around a s’more, covering the bottom half of her face in chocolate and marshmallow fluff in the process. More graham cracker was going to the grass below her than was staying in her hands, but she looked rather pleased with herself as she shuffled over toward you.

“D’you wanna come roast a marshmallow?” she asked, and it wasn’t until Philip turned to you with an eyebrow raised that you realized she was talking to you. It startled you when his eyes met yours, as though you thought he wouldn’t be able to see you watching him, and it seemed to surprise him nearly as much to see that you had been. Your face was hot when you turned to Eliza.

“I, um… I don’t think so. I’m getting tired, and you’re doing such a good job of it that I wouldn’t wanna take away from your fun.”

She frowned. Apparently your excuse wasn’t good enough for her, but she turned to Philip. “Do you wanna come roast a marshmallow?”

“Not this time, kiddo.” There was a trace of a laugh in his voice as he reached out to wipe a smear of melted chocolate from Eliza’s nose. “Be careful around that fire.”

“Can I roast you a marshmallow?” she asked, and you couldn’t help but smile. She was nothing if not persistent. Philip’s expression mirrored yours.

“I dunno; I think it would be wasted on me. I might head up to bed soon,” he said, and Eliza huffed. He glanced over at you. “You want one, though, princess?”

Eliza’s eyes were wide and hopeful as she looked at you, and you shrugged, your smile endeared. “Yeah, sure, I’ll take one. Thanks, Eliza.”

“You’re welcome. I’m gonna roast you the perfect marshmallow.” She started tottering off back toward the bag of marshmallows before she even finished her declaration, and it made you grin.

“Thanks for being a good sport.” Philip’s voice was soft, and it wasn’t until he spoke that you were quite aware of how close he was beside you. You turned to see him watching Eliza, leaned back on his hands with his legs outstretched on the blanket. “She loves when people let her make things for them. Inherited the family people-pleaser trait, I guess.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What, does it skip a generation?”

He laughed, and the sound was quiet and warm. “Man, can’t even go easy on me after the day you’ve put me through?”

His tone was light, but it held residual bitterness, and your smile faltered. You couldn’t blame him, but the tension in his jaw as the glow from the fire flickered across it had you on guard. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin your weekend with your family.”

He turned his head, and you felt hyper-aware of every twitch of every muscle in your body as he looked over your apologetic expression. “Relax. I know,” he assured you after a moment, looking around at the group. “I can’t be mad, anyway. We both know I kinda bullied you into coming here with me.”

“You didn’t bully me into anything,” you replied, and he pursed his lips. You looked down at your hands. “If I was really that opposed to it, I would’ve just gone on the work trip. It’s not that big a deal.”

“But d’you still think this is the lesser of evils?” There was disbelief in his voice. “I’d guess that you also didn’t expect this weekend to get quite so stressful. I think we both just figured it’d be a funny story to tell when we get back.”

“I can’t deny that,” you admitted, glancing around at the group to determine whether you were within earshot of any of his relatives. “But tomorrow’s our last day here. We don’t have to do this for much longer.”

“And then we can go back to being office neighbors who torment each other on the daily?” he asked, and you huffed.

“Woah, you torment me, not the other way around,” you corrected him, and the look he gave you was skeptical.

“So then all the time you spend nitpicking my habits is just, what, collegial cohabitation?” he asked, and his disbelieving tone made you roll your eyes. “You’re more attentive to my ticks than even my mom's ever been.”

“Maybe if your ticks weren’t obstructing my work day I wouldn’t have to pay such close attention.”

“Please, I’m never in your way.”

“You borrow my pens and never give them back.”

“You steal the coffees that Theo brings me.”

“You don’t even pay for them.”

Your retort elicited a smug smile from him, and he shrugged. “I can’t always help being so charismatic, princess. I won’t apologize for the things people do for me because of my natural charm.”

“Natural charm,” you repeated skeptically. “We both know Theo just has a crush on you. It’s honestly getting to be mean the way you keep entertaining it.”

“Theo has a girlfriend,” he informed you, and your eyebrows shot up. You turned your head to look at him, and he eyed your stunned look with amusement. “I’m not leading her on. She runs the coffee shop around the corner from our office, which is why she always brings an extra latte to work. She doesn’t actually drink coffee, but apparently her girl likes making it for her.”

“You’re making that up,” you accused him, but he shook his head.

“You’d know this if you actually ever talked to her,” he said, and you frowned.

“I thought she didn’t like me. She never even says ‘good morning.’”

“She thinks the same about you,” he said, and as your pensive gaze wandered, he went on, “When you started at our office, all you seemed to want to do was put your head down and work. You didn’t give anyone the time of day. I think it just intimidated a lot of people.”

“Yeah, well, I’d recently had my life as I knew it blown to bits. It turns out work is a good distraction when you’re recently widowed.”

“I didn’t know that then,” he said softly, “but it does explain some things. I know I didn’t always treat you the best when you joined staff, and I’m sorry if it made all that harder.”

“Yeah, what was all that about?” Both your and his eyes followed Eliza Jr. across the yard as she stuffed her face with the marshmallow she’d purported to be roasting for you. “We got off to such a bad start, but upon further reflection, I’ve decided you’re not just an egoistic asshole, so what happened? Was it some weird office hazing?”

He sighed. “I just didn’t know what to do when you showed up. Some big shot up-and-comer out of Columbia giving me the silent treatment for eight hours a day. Some part of me figured you thought you were better than me, and another part of me thought you might be right about it.”

“Seriously?” Your brow was furrowed as you looked over at him. “It was the start of my second job out of college, and I was working ridiculously long hours because I was afraid of being alone with my thoughts.”

“Y’know that’s still why Susan pawns my workload off onto you?” he asked. “I thought you were trying to show me up, and she ended up convinced that you were just more reliable.”

“I should start slacking now that she’s stuck with me,” you mused, and he cracked a grin.

“Maybe I’ll finally go back to being top dog around our office then,” he quipped, but you couldn’t find much humor in it.

“So, what, you were just mean to me because you were afraid I’d upstage you? It was just some high-school mean-girl insecurity bullshit?”

“Honestly, it was more because I thought you didn’t like me,” he said. “You barely said a word to me, and when you did, it was usually criticism. You greeted me in the mornings by reminding me that I was late. I remember asking Georges for advice about you, and he told me that if I acted even colder, you’d warm up ‘cause you’d see I wasn’t messing around. I believed that for longer than I’m proud of.”

“That’s the advice Georges gave you?” There was disbelief in your voice, and he just nodded. “He mentioned when we were at his bar that he’d given you some bad advice when I joined our office. When he said that, I wasn’t imagining that he was the reason our working relationship was so bad from the get-go.”

“I took the advice, so I think I’m as much to blame,” he admitted, and you shrugged. “When I started bringing you coffee in the mornings a few weeks later, I was trying to make good ‘cause I realized it was only making things worse.”

“Then I just thought you were hitting on me.”

“I was.” Your eyes widened, but his tone was casual, and he chuckled. “I get in hindsight that it was in poor taste. I think I’m starting to see why you thought I was a nuisance for so long.”

“What d’you mean, ‘thought’?” Your words were sardonic, but he couldn’t take offense at the dry quip. Despite the amusement in his smile, he looked you over with disbelief.

“When are we gonna get past this whole routine of you pretending to hate me?” he asked. You weren’t sure you were comfortable with the audible sincerity in the question; you didn’t know how to answer it. “It’s been a weird day. We both know that. But I think we’re past the point where you can claim you don’t want anything to do with me.”

Your throat was tight, and you were afraid to speak. “We shouldn’t talk about this when your whole family’s around.”

“We’re out of earshot.”

“We should be cautious.”

“Or maybe we should just go up to bed,” he suggested. You swallowed. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” you acquiesced, your breathing shaky, “I guess it is.”

————

You lingered by the fire a bit longer before going upstairs. Eliza Jr. had made another round through the crowd, and she was giving out graham crackers as if she were bestowing awards (“it is an honor and a privilege,” she told you with no further explanation before repeating the same to Philip). You helped pack up the blankets that had been left as Philip’s younger siblings had gone one by one up to bed, and you wished Philip hadn’t been so quick to give you an extra set of hands. You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t offer to do it as a stalling tactic.

You walked together in silence back to the house and upstairs, and he took the blankets you carried to pack them into his family’s linen closet. As you returned to his room, you weren’t sure what to say. You sat on the side of his bed you’d been sleeping on and began to remove your earrings.

“So, that engagement ring you told Georges I have…” You glanced back at him with your eyebrows raised. He leaned back against his desk in the corner of his room, hands in his pockets. “Please tell me that wasn’t a bluff?”

You sighed. “No, no, I have my late husband’s. I didn’t think this through very far, so we’re just gonna have to hope it fits you.”

You withdrew the pendant of your necklace from beneath your dress, turning away from him as you looked down at yourself, but he was silent another moment. You pulled your hair aside and started fiddling with the chain’s clasp. After a moment, you huffed and glanced back at him. "Could I have a hand?"

He was watching you bewildered, and his expression made you furrow your brow. “What?”

“You sure you’re comfortable with me wearing your late husband’s ring?” His voice was soft, apprehensive, and you pursed your lips.

“It’s fine,” you said after a moment. Your voice lacked conviction, and when Philip knit his concerned brow, you gave him a weak smile. “I’m serious. He always loved a good con; he would’ve been in full support.”

“Of his wife loaning his ring out to some other guy?”

“Only as part of an elaborate hoax,” you said. He appeared tepid. “Are you helping me with the clasp or not?”

“...Yeah. Sure.” Though his words were hesitant, you turned back toward his nightstand where you sat, sweeping your hair back over one shoulder. You stood when he reached you, turned away from him, but you visibly flinched when his hands first brushed the back of your neck to take the clasp between his fingers. His movements stalled. “I can just tell my family my ring is being resized or something if this is all too much for you.”

He stood close behind you; though his voice was quiet, its low thrum felt heavy in the proximity. You shook your head.

“That’s okay. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't alright with it," you assured him. When he didn’t answer, you turned your head to look back at him. His brow was furrowed. "I trust you with it, Philip. Just help me with the necklace, alright?"

"If you're sure." His voice was little more than a whisper, and his hands were gentle with the delicate chain you wore as you turned back around. A beat passed, and he let out a frustrated huff that tickled the hairs on your neck. You shivered. "This clasp doesn't wanna come quietly."

"You might have to wiggle it a bit if it's stuck. Don't worry about breaking it; it's strong."

"I'll do my best," he said. Another moment passed as you both waited patiently for the necklace to come undone, and you looked down at your feet.

"I really am sorry about today, y'know."

“Do you regret it?” His response was immediate, and as you felt the movement of his hands slow against the skin of your neck, your necklace going still, you were confident he was stalling.

“Which part?”

“You know which part.” The impatience in his voice made you sigh. “Do I really have to say it? Or can we finally stop pretending that things haven’t been weird between us all weekend?”

“It hasn’t been weird all weekend.”

“If everything was normal before that, why did you kiss me?”

The question was pointed and blunt, and you could feel your heart rate pick up. Philip slid your necklace off, taking both sides of it in one hand and reaching around you to set it on your (his) bedside table. You leaned away from him as he did so, giving him room to take a step toward the table, but when he did, he didn’t take a step back. He turned to you with his eyebrows raised, and your stomach turned as you found yourself trapped between him and the bed.

“Here, we should see if the ring fits,” you said, voice unsteady as you broke his gaze, reaching around him for the necklace.

“You’ve gotta stop deflecting,” he said impatiently, and you ignored it as you slid the ring off of the necklace’s chain.

“Gimme your hand; I need you to try it on.” You held the ring up to him between your trembling fingers. He eyed you with exasperation.

“Fine.” You inhaled sharply when his steady hand came to cover yours, holding it in the small space between you to still your grip on the ring, and he slid the ring finger of his other hand through it effortlessly. He barely spared it a glance as his tired stare bordered on irritation. “It fits.”

“Yeah.” The word in your anxious, high-pitched voice was barely a breath.

“Now answer me,” he said, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes; your gaze was stuck on the perfect fit of the ring around his finger. “I…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know,” was all you could say at first. Your heart was in your throat; you were struggling to speak past it. “I shouldn’t have done it. I was just… I was sad, and you were comforting me, and this is the first time anyone’s felt like home since…” You trailed off with a tired huff, dropping his now ring-clad hand. “I can’t do this right now. It’s late, and I’m not thinking straight, and I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You pushed past him where he had you cornered, and although he didn’t try to stop you, he rolled his eyes. “You can’t keep using that excuse.”

You didn’t look back at him as you walked toward his bathroom, but his words made you frown. “When have I used that excuse?” you asked incredulously.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he postured, “maybe earlier after you kissed me? You’re messing with my head, Y/N, and it sucks.”

“Like you haven’t been messing with mine all weekend?” you shot back, turning on him furiously. “You wanna know why I kissed you? Well, I want to know why you asked me to come here in the first place.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’ve covered this.”

“No, actually, I don’t know that we have,” you argued. “I poured my heart out to you about my late husband and gave you a full explanation for why I acted how I did when I joined our office, and you haven’t even explained why you needed a fake girlfriend in the first place.”

He sighed. “I just wanted my parents off my back. They were incessant when they thought I was single.”

“Then why didn’t you change your story once they started insisting you bring me home?” you asked. “You could’ve told them we broke up and that you weren’t back to dating yet. Or that you’d met someone else. But instead you blindly agreed to bring me here before you even knew whether I’d be willing to come.”

“I just wanted them to think I was in a stable relationship,” he defended. “I’m their oldest; I’m supposed to have my shit figured out by now. Nobody wants to hear that I’m all alone with no stable plan for my future. You don’t know how much time they spent trying to control my life when they thought I had my options open.”

“Then why me?” you pushed, and he raised an eyebrow. “Why not tell them it was a friend or someone you met on a dating app? What about Henriette? I’m sure she’d be more than happy to play the part of ‘doting girlfriend’ when your family’s around. The way she fawns over you, I’m surprised she didn’t come up with this story first.” Your tone was jeering, and Philip’s eyes were narrow as he looked you over. His jaw was tense, and you were confident you’d hit a sore spot.

“Henriette’s exactly the problem.” His voice was low, and the frustration in his tone made you raise an eyebrow. “Our relationship was terrible, but my entire family kept trying to push me to marry her. Nobody stopped for even a second to consider whether that was what I wanted.”

“Then grow up and tell them,” you bit back. “Even if they adored her, bursting their bubble about what kind of person she is would’ve still been easier than lying to them for two years about a fake relationship.”

“You don’t get it,” he maintained. “My father sees me as his legacy. He worked his whole life so I could settle down and start a family, and Henriette was his ticket to seeing grandkids. When we broke up, he barely talked to me for weeks. We only started talking again when I told my parents I’d found somebody else.”

“But why me?” you reiterated. “You couldn’t have thought that choosing me was going to make your life easier. When we first met, we barely spoke.”

He eyed you with his tongue burrowed into his cheek for a moment. “I did think it was gonna be an easy out.”

“And what the hell made you think that?”

“The office Christmas party,” he said. “That’s about when I told my family I was seeing someone new.”

You furrowed your brow. “What happened that night that made you decide to tell them that?”

“You really don’t remember?” He quirked a brow, and your expression must have been resolutely blank, because after a moment, he sighed, taking a seat back on the side of his bed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew you were drinking that night, and I didn’t exactly get a warm welcome back into the office the next Monday.”

“What happened at the Christmas party?”

“It’s more what happened after we left the Christmas party,” he said, and you frowned.

“What does that mean?” you asked, and you narrowed your eyes as you considered the implication in his words. “I’m sorry, we didn’t hook up, did we?”

His eyes widened at the question, the alarm in your voice. “Jesus, no. You were drunk half out of your mind; what kind of person do you think I am?”

“Don’t act like it’s an insane question. Do you even hear yourself? ‘After we left the party’?” you echoed, and he pursed his lips. “You must know how that sounds.”

“Fine, that’s on me,” he admitted. “We didn’t ‘hook up,’ you dragged me out to, like, three different clubs. You were all over me that night. By the time I managed to get you home, you’d pulled my shirt off of my body so that you could wear it.”

“Oh, please, there’s no way I was ‘all over you,’” you scoffed, mocking his voice. “I do remember talking to you at the party, but the rest of this just sounds like revisionist history.”

“What else do you remember from that night?” he asked, and although his tone was accusatory, the question was sincere. “Anything past leaving the office? Do you even remember leaving?”

You pursed your lips as you considered the question; you didn’t want to admit the answer. “I do remember waking up in a shirt that wasn’t mine to credit card charges from bars in the area. I froze the card, though, ‘cause I thought they were fraud.”

The laugh he huffed out sounded vindicated. "There you go."

"But that doesn't prove any of what you're saying."

"Argue all you want, but this is how I remember it," he said, "I'm just trying to explain why I did what I did. I shouldn't have dragged you into all this, but it also wasn't a plot to make you miserable."

"And it didn't occur to you to just cut it when your dad started insisting you bring me home?"

"If I'd told him we broke up, he would've never believed me about anyone else I dated. I would’ve been expected to go back to Henriette." His gaze was low; you were struggling to stay mad as he explained himself. "They can’t stop talking about it while you’re here; imagine how bad it is when you’re not."

You didn’t respond at first; you couldn’t look at him as his words sat with you, and you couldn’t help but quietly resent everyone who’d told you to communicate with Philip. The silence was heavy, but it felt clear. You walked through Philip’s room back toward your suitcase, looking for something to sleep in.

“God, I feel pathetic,” you huffed quietly as you dug through your clothes. Everything had happened so fast, and you’d made so many assumptions, all of them now seemingly incorrect. “I thought this was all a ploy to make Henriette jealous. It somehow feels worse knowing that I’m actually here because you thought I was pining for you.”

“Hang on, that’s not what I said, either,” Philip defended, and you rolled your eyes.

“You can’t walk this one back after you just insisted that I was throwing myself at you at the office Christmas party,” you said. “Spare me the further humiliation.”

“In all fairness, you came onto me like three hours ago,” he pointed out, and when you turned to meet his eyes with a dead stare, you found him watching you with a small, playful smile. “C’mon, princess, don’t tell me the irony’s lost on you.”

“You didn’t exactly shut me down,” you reminded him pointedly, pajamas-in-hand as you stood.

“No, I didn’t.” You raised your eyebrows, and he shrugged, standing to join you at the end of the bed. “What? You want me to deny it?”

“No, I just… didn’t think you’d be so unapologetic about it.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to apologize.” He folded his arms as he leaned against the bottom post of his bed. “I didn’t drag you into this lie ‘cause I thought you wanted me. You were all over me at that staff Christmas party, but that’s besides the point.”

"Then what… ?" You trailed off, unable to articulate exactly what it was you wanted to ask. You didn't know what to make of his words.

"I know you haven't missed my friends and family telling you how I talk about you. I've been calling home about you since you joined the office, and it's felt pathetic," he confessed, and the way he spoke so frankly put you on edge. You could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth to a point where you couldn't fathom that he meant what he seemed to. He eyed you hesitantly for a moment. "I felt so dumb doing that that part of me wants to let you keep feeling dumb here for a few more minutes."

"Classy," you commented, and when he laughed, you could feel your face warm.

"Can't help myself," he said. "You kept me sweating bullets all afternoon. I think it would be fair payback."

"That wasn't my greatest move.”

"It scared the shit out of me," he informed you, and you pursed your lips. "A lot’s happened this weekend, but I thought we were at a point where we could finally talk about it."

"I wasn't sure you'd think there was anything worth talking about." Your voice was small.

“Seriously?”

"I figured I was just here to make Henriette jealous. Anything between us was an afterthought.”

“You only met her earlier today. If my plan was just to make her jealous, what about the rest of the weekend?” Your breath stalled as you met his eyes; you were afraid to ask what he meant. You’d been reluctant to assign any meaning to the way he’d sought you out with his family around or the way he spoke to you when nobody was around to hear it. “Not much of the time we spent together was necessary to sell the story that we were dating.”

“We did a pretty good job selling it, though.”

“And then some.” You hadn’t forgotten the way you’d woken up in his arms every morning you spent at his house. You hadn’t missed his excitement for your road trip to his childhood home nor the care he took to make sure you were comfortable at his family dinner. You’d tried to ignore the little touches and passing glances all weekend, but apparently, he knew that you, too, had been keeping score of what was done in private that should have been for show. “I didn’t think I could be any clearer, to be honest. I figured you’d clocked it in the way I seek you out at work, all the time I spend hanging out at your desk.”

“I thought you just found it funny to rile me up.” You shrugged, refusing to acknowledge the heavy implication in his words. It had your heart rate rising; the hand that held your pajamas trembled.

“So you just thought I was an asshole?”

“...Kind of.” You swallowed, and your throat felt tight. He chuckled.

“Looks like Georges was right about me being tactless.”

You wore a small frown when you looked him in the eye, and his gaze was soft as he watched you. His words were heavy with meaning, but the air felt light — it was as though a haze was lifting and you were seeing him clearly for the first time. “What are you saying?”

His smile was melancholy. “You kissed me earlier today, and I thought it meant that something was different. You've gotta have some idea of where I’m coming from when I ask whether I was just in the right place at the right time.”

Your heart was in your throat; you raised your eyebrows. You were sure you looked dumbfounded, but all you felt was sick. “You…?”

“I already feel stupid; don't make me come right out and say it." He raked a hand through his hair as he sighed, and you could only watch him, stunned. "Did it… mean anything? Or were you just looking for comfort?"

Your voice was breathless and weak. “Can’t it be both?”

“That’s such a cop out,” he said, and you sighed.

“I don’t know anymore, Philip; you’ve taken care of me this weekend in a way I never imagined you could, and when everything came crashing down with the truth about my past, I was such a wreck, and it would've been so easy for you to be angry after I was so careless, but you were so gentle with me." You glanced down at the pajamas you were still holding, playing with the fabric between your fingers. You couldn't meet his eyes. "You've been better to me than I've deserved today, and that sucks, because I really had my heart set on hating you when we got back to town."

His smile was soft. “Sorry for making myself so hard to hate.”

“It’s been a real inconvenience.” Though your tone was lighthearted, your nervous gaze was heavy as you looked back at him.

“I think you’ll get over it.” He winked, and you could feel the heat rising from the nape of your neck to the tips of your ears. He looked you over, and a beat passed before he unfolded his arms and took a step toward you, hands in his pockets. “So what now, princess?”

His gaze was confident, expectant as he looked down at you; only the tiny crease in his brow betrayed any crack in his self-assured front. You, however, were a deer in headlights, frozen and sure that this was some kind of trap leading you to meet your maker.

“I don’t know.” You weren’t sure you could force the words from your tongue to form a real answer. You felt faint when he took another step toward you, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“You don’t hate me, apparently, but you’re giving me a whole lot of non-answers.”

“You’re not exactly asking easy questions,” you defended, and he smiled.

“Then let me give you something a little simpler.” Your breath caught when his stare flickered to your lips, lingering long enough that it was unmistakable. “If I tried to kiss you right now, would you stop me?”

Your eyes were wide as they met his, his confident gaze almost imposing in the proximity. But you didn’t move — you didn’t speak, you didn’t back away, and you certainly didn’t stop him. He took another step, and he reached out, brushed a hair away from your face. “Tell me this isn't what you want, and I won’t bring it up ever again.”

“Philip…” You trailed off when his fingertips brushed over the skin of your cheek, and when he closed the space between you, his hand fell to cup your face. The pajamas you held fell lamely from your limp grasp.

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, and the look in his eyes was expectant as he lifted your chin up toward him. “C’mon. It’s not like you to go all quiet on me. Where’d all those opinions of yours go?”

“I…” He was holding you at your cheek and your waist, pulling you into him, but your arms were still anchored to your sides. You knew what you wanted. But you didn’t know if you could bring yourself to reach out and grab it— no, grab him.

“Do you want this, or don’t you?” He combed a hand into your hair, his eyes following the motion, and his thumb swept down the side of your jaw. “Because, princess, trust me: I know what I want.”

Words were failing you. The silence between you stretched on, but he didn’t press any further; he waited, and his actions were patient. His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back. His eyes were fixed on your lips, so when you spoke, he couldn’t have missed it.

“Please…”

“Please?” he repeated.

“Please kiss me.” Your voice was no louder than a whisper, and after you said it, his smile widened, but it wasn’t smug. His gaze was soft.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

When he leaned down to kiss you, his lips were gentle, and your hands rose to rest on his chest as he pulled you close. Your eyes fluttered shut as your nose brushed against his, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling at the sound that escaped him when you pulled lightly on his hair. His hands settled low on your waist when you pulled him into yourself.

As you threaded a hand into his hair, the way he handled you grew needier; his grip on you tightened, and his mouth against yours became more insistent. His tongue was in your mouth; he held you by the nape of your neck, and you were doing all you could to keep up with him as his touch became sloppy. He pressed open mouthed kisses down your jawline, and you tilted your head back, enjoying the way his grip on you tightened and his hands migrated to your lower back.

You stumbled backwards as he leaned into you, sucking a hickey into the delicate skin of your neck, and though you knew you should’ve stopped him, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d deal with the consequences come morning. He hooked a hand under one of your thighs, pulling your leg up to his waist, and you wrapped it around him, pulling his body closer as he pushed you back against the bedroom wall. Your dress was riding up your thighs, but your exposed skin was hardly a fleeting thought as you pulled his head back up to kiss him on the mouth. That time, his lips were slower. After a long moment, he pulled back to look you in the eye.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he said, voice breathless, brushing a hair off your forehead, and your chest was heaving.

“Then don’t stop there.” You looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, and his eyebrows jumped. His hand fell to the side of your head, his thumb brushing over the skin under your ear.

“Really?” Despite the surprise in his voice, he looked far from upset, and you shrugged.

“I mean, as long as you’re amenable,” you said softly, and the tension in his raised eyebrows made you hesitate. “You do want me, don’t you?”

“I do,” he said, but something in his words was tentative, and it made you frown.

“But?” you prodded, and he sighed.

“I need to know if this is a one time thing.” Your eyebrows shot up, and he was quick to continue, “It’s fine if that’s all you want. But I’d rather get on the same page beforehand.”

“I don’t want it to be,” you said. “I don’t know what that means for us going forward, but I don’t want this to be just tonight.”

“First clear answer I’ve gotten today,” he said softly as he leaned in to kiss you once more, and you rolled your eyes. He kissed you hard, shamelessly as you ran your fingers through his hair, and you smiled against his lips. His tongue brushed against yours when his hand ran up your thigh, pushing your dress with it until his fingertips met the lacy material of your panties; though he slid his fingers under their hem, moving toward your inner thigh, his confident lips faltered against yours when you shivered under his touch.

“Can I?” he whispered into your open mouth, and your hand came down to cover his as you sucked softly on his bottom lip. You moved his hand to your center, and you could feel his breath as he inhaled sharply. You released his lip from between yours.

“Please.”

That was all he needed to hear; he ran his hand over your clothed slit, and you tensed, arching against him as your hand ran up his arm. Your breathing was labored when his fingers breached the hem of your panties, and you froze as the fabric pulled at your hips. You squeezed his bicep when his fingertips dipped between your lips, and you dropped your head back against the wall behind you.

“You’re so wet already,” he murmured as he kissed the side of your head.

“I’ve been thinking about having your hands on me for the past hour,” you confessed, and he chuckled.

“The feeling’s mutual.” His slick fingertips circled your clit, and your hips lurched, chasing the feeling of his skin. He only drew back a touch, but the loss of the feeling drew a whimper from your pouted lips, and you rolled your hips down against his hand as you tightened your leg around his waist, pulling him closer. You felt him grin, lips brushing against your ear. “God, you’re needy.”

"Because I need you," you pleaded. "Touch me properly."

“Gladly.” You tensed involuntarily when he rolled your clit against the soft skin of his middle finger, and your breath was caught in your throat, your jaw tight. His touch was alight, and you bit your lip as your hips lurched. “You like that?”

“Mhm.”

“Talk to me, princess. Use your words.” His fingers slid down to your dripping pussy, and you whimpered, tightening your hold on his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt. When he slid two fingers inside you, you gasped, rolling your hips against his hand.

“Fuck,” you breathed as he started thrusting his fingers inside you, and he nipped the skin of your jaw. His other hand lifted the skirt of your dress from your other side, settling at your waist, and as you tried to grind down on him, he pinned your hips back against the wall. “Philip, harder, please.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, and when his fingers hit you deeper, his palm struck your clit, and you cried out, scrabbling for purchase on the fabric of his shirt. He pushed another finger inside you without notice, and your moan was stuttered, the stretch just a shadow of a burn as he curled them against your walls; you could feel your knees going weak under your shuddering body. “Just let it out for me.”

And that was all you could do. His hand sped up against you, and one of your hands ran up the back of his neck as the other knitted itself into the front of his shirt; his smile was smug as you frantically grabbed at him. Your whimpers were weak when Philip pressed his fingertips against the front of your walls, and he felt you clench down against him.

“Right there,” you whined.

“Right here?” He did it harder, more intentionally that time, and your thighs trembled, you bit your lower lip. You nodded deliriously.

“Yes,” you moaned as his thrusts grew quicker and more forceful. The only things keeping your spent body upright were his hands under your hips and your grip on his shoulders; your cries were growing louder. “Oh, God; oh, fuck.”

“Shh, princess, we’ve got my family next door,” he chastised you, but the smile in his voice was distinct. Your groan was muffled through pursed lips. “You don’t want to ruin their impression of you as such a sweet, wholesome girl, do you?”

You shook your head frantically, pressing your lips together, but— “I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna come for me?” He pressed the heel of his hand down against your clit, and your mouth fell open in a silent whine, brow knit. “Come on. Let me have it.”

Your nails were digging into the skin of his back through his thin button-down as pressure built in your groin, but he didn’t seem to mind. Your leg around him was a vice, and your hips jerked helplessly against the hand he used to pin you against the wall; the stretch of his three fingers inside you was dizzying, and you were struggling to form words, overwhelmed by the sensation as you approached your peak.

You came with a shriek, and his lips met yours, muffling the sound as he worked you through your orgasm. He released your hip to pin you against the wall by the neck. His tongue was in your mouth; your whimpers were close to cries as he fucked you with his fingers, and his hand only slowed against you when you went limp in his grasp.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes fell shut as you leaned back against the wall, and Philip kissed down your neck as he withdrew his hand from you, instead pushing your dress up to your waist.

“Take this off,” he muttered against your skin. You didn’t respond, chest heaving as you caught your breath, but you helped him lift the dress up over your head, leaving you only in underwear as you fixed the hair it ruffled. He tossed the garment aside. While your arms returned to his shoulders, he held you back by the waist for a moment, making your eyebrows jump. His gaze roamed your figure while he took a step toward you, and your breath was caught as his hands ran down your hips, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered. “You’re stunning.”

Your smile was self-conscious as he pulled you close, tilted your face up toward his with his fingers under your chin, and he kissed you softly. His hands settled atop the swell of your ass, and when he pulled you against him, his erection pressed against your lower stomach through the fabric of his pants, drawing a gasp from your lips against his. He smiled when you rolled your hips up against his, pushing him back toward his bed. You kissed him hard, undoing the buttons on his shirt, and he laughed as he stumbled backward.

“Easy there.” As he bumped into the end of the mattress, he stilled you by the waist, and his hands ran up your back to unhook your bra. He slid the straps down your arms. “I’m not going anywhere, princess.”

“I’m allowed to be impatient when I look like this and you’re still fully dressed.” You gave him a pointed look as you discarded your bra, and he grinned.

“In all fairness, you look good like this.”

“Shut up, Hamilton.” You could feel his smile against your lips when you kissed him, finished unbuttoning his shirt, and he sat back onto the foot of the bed as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. You climbed onto his lap without hesitation, and he pulled you close with a firm grip on your thighs as your arms hung loosely around his neck. When your lips again met his, it was slower; your hands moved to his body, his bare torso and his warm skin, and ultimately to his belt buckle.

You kissed down the side of his neck as your hands traveled south, and he squeezed your ass when you latched onto the skin below his ear, sucking a deep purple bruise into the tender space.

“Marking your territory?” he asked between heavy breaths as you pulled the tail of his belt out from its buckle. You smiled.

“Trying to make sure Henriette gets that you've moved on.” You undid the button on the top of his pants and unzipped them, dragging your fingers over his bulge as you did so, and he let out a ragged breath.

“Don't tease me.” His voice was rough as he lifted your face by the chin, and you looked up at him with wide eyes to see his weary expression. You traced your fingers over the outline of his dick in his boxers.

“Or what?” you asked softly, tilting your head as you watched his chest heave. His thumb ran across your jaw, and his gaze was fixed on your lips.

“Or I won’t invite you to the Hamilton Thanksgiving?” His tone was mild, and your scandalized gasp was weak.

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare.”

“I know, I’m really cruel, huh?”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna handle it.” The final few words were murmured against his lips as he leaned in to kiss you once more, but you pulled back a moment later as you pushed yourself off the edge of the bed to stand and lowered yourself to your knees. You tugged his pants down with you, looking up at him as you reached for the waistband of his boxers. “Can I?”

“By all means.” He sounded winded as you pulled his underwear down over his hard cock, and you leaned in to kiss his stomach, running your hands up his thighs as you settled between his legs. His breathing was heavy as you ghosted a finger up to the tip of his hard cock. His hips jerked forward the moment your lips touched the head, and you pulled back with a soft laugh.

“You’re so needy.” He didn’t seem to have much patience for your playful gaze as you took his dick in one hand.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Do you want me to do something about it?”

“Wouldn’t mind it.” You took his dick fully in your mouth, then, hollowing your cheeks as you brought it to the back of your tongue, and he groaned, a hand flying to your hair. You pulled back to spit on it, pumping it in your hand. “Do you have it in you?”

You ran your tongue up the underside of his cock before taking it as deep as you could, gagging as you massaged the base. Philip’s moan was gratifying as he weaved a hand into your hair, grasping it by the roots, and you looked up at him with wide eyes when his grip went firm. He gently pushed your head down further after you bobbed back up, making you choke. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. He held you there a moment, but when you came back up for air, you went back down on him almost immediately. He grunted as you tried to take him deeper, coming up to trace your tongue over the head of his cock. You sucked it gently, lowering your mouth on him slowly, and when you reached down to cup his balls, his hips lurched forward. You gagged when his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Shit, sorry—”

You pulled back with a cough, spit dripping down your chin as you looked up at him with wet eyes. “I don't mind.”

His eyebrows jumped. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You guided the hand he'd begun to withdraw back to your hair. “Go ahead.”

“You want me to fuck your throat, princess?” He pulled your hair back by the roots, forcing you to look up at him. The corners of his lips quirked up. “C'mon. Say it.”

“Fuck. Yeah, I do.” You leaned into his touch, pumping his dick in your fist. “Please, Philip.”

“Alright, just be good for me then.” When you took his cock back between your lips, flattening your tongue against the underside, he pulled you down on it firmly that time, holding you in place when you started to choke. “You can take it.”

Your brow was creased as you looked up at him, and when he thrusted gently into your throat, prodding your gag reflex, you had to remind yourself to breathe through your nose. Your lips touched where your hand had been working the base of his cock when he pushed his hips forward, and he pulled you back to move your hand, interlacing your fingers with those of his free hand where it rested on his thigh. “Come on. Take it all. You're doing so good.”

His gentle tone contradicted the force that was growing behind his thrusts, making you tear up as he abused the back of your throat. His grip on your hair was tight then, and he squeezed your hand in his.

It was only a moment later that he pushed you down to the base of his cock, and he groaned at your throat convulsing around him, rejecting the intrusion. He pulled you back up for air.

“You okay?” You only nodded as you wrapped your lips around his dick once more, going as far as you could without him forcing you, and his soft grunts were encouragement enough. “Fuck, princess. You're so good.”

Your eyes fell shut, preening at the praise and trying to focus on your breathing as he rolled his hips into your mouth. You looked up at him when his thrusts grew quicker, his breathing heavier, and you squeezed his hand in yours. Your other hand came up to roll his balls between your fingers, and he moaned.

His hips stilled a moment later, his body going rigid, and when you kept bobbing your head, he had to pull you back.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Although your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath, you managed a weak, “What?”

He inhaled slowly. “That's too fucking good. I don't wanna come like that, though; I wanna fuck you properly.”

Your smile was smug, but your voice was hoarse when you responded, “Aw, you're struggling not to come already?”

You gasped at his sharp tug on your hair. His gaze was entertained. “Play nice if you still want anything more from me.”

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, but you weren't fazed. “What, you don't wanna fuck me anymore? You haven't even come.”

“Maybe I will come down your throat, then. I've been trying to shut your smart mouth up for years.”

Your pout as you blinked back the tears from him fucking your throat made him smile. “Please don't tease.”

“You've already come. What makes you think you deserve to get fucked?”

“I'll be so good.” Your strained plea didn't budge his expression, and you eyed his amused look. “And you know how long you've wanted this for. Me on my knees, begging you to fuck me. Why would you keep both of us from getting what we want?”

His tongue was burrowed into his cheek as he eyed you for another moment, reaching down to wipe the tears and smeared mascara from your cheeks. “Fuck. Yeah, alright, c’mere.”

You smiled as you stood, and he pulled you up toward him with the hand on his thigh. He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you onto his lap, and you leaned in to kiss him once more, softer that time. He had a different agenda. As you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his hand was at your neck and his tongue pushing its way into your mouth, and you moaned against him, grinding down against his dick.

“You're so gorgeous.” The heat of his breath was in your mouth. You tugged at his bottom lip with your teeth.

It was sudden when he stood, picking you up with him by the thighs, and you yelped, clinging to his shoulders. The sound made him laugh as he pulled back, his nose resting against the side of yours. “Relax, princess, I've got you.”

“You've gotta stop calling me that,” you murmured against his cheek, and he bit your lip playfully.

“Don't hold your breath.” He stepped out of the pants that hung around his ankles as he brought you around to the side of the bed, and when he laid you down beneath him, it was careful, and he kissed your neck as he laid your head back.

You tried to pull him back onto the bed with you with your hands at his shoulders, and you pushed yourself further onto the mattress with your feet. “Come here.”

Ever obliging, he followed, kneeling above you as you pulled yourself up to kiss him once more. His mouth dropped to your neck as his hands ran down to your hips, tugging at the band of your underwear.

“Can I take these off?” he whispered.

“D’you have a condom?”

“Yeah, hang on.” He kissed your shoulder before he rolled off of you to stand. He grabbed his wallet from the bedside table and withdrew the foil packed from its inner pocket, and you raised your eyebrows.

“You've just been carrying that around?”

“I've carried a condom in my wallet since I was sixteen.” He tore open the packet, withdrawing the condom and rolling it down his hard cock.

“Hope it's not expired since you haven't had a chance to use it yet.”

He looked down with an eyebrow cocked at your self-satisfied smile. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

You shrugged. “Still considering it.”

“You're such a pain in my ass.” His voice held no ire as he grabbed you by the ankles and yanked you toward him on the bed, and you squealed. He leaned down to take the fabric of your underwear between his fingers, pulling it down your legs, and you bent your knees for him to pull it over your feet. He took you by the thighs, then, parting them for himself and settling between them on the mattress as he pushed you back to where you'd been.

Your breathing was quick as he leaned over you, pulling one of your legs up to his hip, and you gasped when the tip of his cock ran up your soaked pussy. His other hand landed on the mattress beside your head, holding him up above you.

He furrowed his brow as he looked into your wide, nervous eyes. “You're sure you want this?”

“Please.” You ground your hips up against the shaft of his dick, and you flinched when it brushed against your clit. “Wanna feel you inside me. Come on.”

“Okay,” he said, voice breathy as he reached down to line his dick up with your entrance. Your stomach turned when you felt his tip against you, pushing firmly inside, and it didn't take long for it to start to burn.

“Wait, wait, go slow.” You scrambled for purchase in the sheets, ultimately pushing yourself up onto your elbow and holding him by the chest. “You're too big. I need a second.”

“Hey, relax.” He held your hand that laid on his chest. Your eyes were wide as you looked up at him. “It's okay. Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, just…” You swallowed. “Be gentle at first? Please?”

“Of course.” He leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. “Just lay down. I'll take care of you.”

You did so hesitantly, and he followed you back down to the mattress, his hand on your hip and his lips on your neck. The second push of his hips against yours made you groan, his dick pushing further inside of you, and he fell into a rhythm rolling his hips down as he eased you open.

“There you go. Good girl,” he whispered at his final shallow thrust, bottoming out. You whimpered as he ground his hips gently against yours. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was barely a breath. “You can move. I'm okay.”

“Okay princess. Lemme go slow.” One of his hands ran up the bottom of your thigh, bending it for him and spreading you wider as he pulled back. His first few thrusts hurt, stretching you slowly open, and you could only groan into his shoulder atop you, but as he fell into a rhythm, you could feel yourself begin to relax.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you said softly as you arched against him, letting your head fall flat against the bed.

“Yeah?” He thrusted his hips harder against yours in a way that made your eyes widen. He ran a hand up the back of your leg, spreading you wider for him as he increased his pace. “Yeah? Like that? You like that?”

“Oh, shit,” you groaned, “I need more. I need you to fuck me harder.”

“And I need you,” —he grabbed you by the jaw, turning your head to look him in the eye— “to be quieter.”

“You're still thinking about your parents next door?” Your words were jeering. “At a time like this?”

“Well, now I'm thinking a little less considerately.” His hand dropped to your neck, and your eyebrows jumped. “You promised you'd be good for me.”

“I think I'm just the picture of decorum.”

“Uh huh.” He leaned into you as he slowed down. “It's alright. You will be.”

“Wait, please, harder,” you whined, eyes falling shut. He stilled inside you, watching you expectantly. “Philip. Please don't stop.”

“What'll you do for it?” He kissed you softly with a smile, running his thumb along your jaw.

“Fuck. Anything. Please.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Call me daddy.” Your eyes flew open, but his grin was easy as his hand left your next to rest on the mattress beside you. “Come on. We both saw how you reacted to the jokes I've made about it. I might've been a little stupid this weekend, but I'm not dumb.”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“You know what I'm saying, though. Don't you?” He kissed your jaw. “Tell me that doesn't get you off, and I'll leave it alone.”

“Philip,” you whined. “Just want you to fuck me.”

“Gladly. Just say the word.”

“I don’t…” You clearly had every intention of defending yourself, but as he raised his eyebrows, he could feel your pussy tighten around him. “Please. I need you.”

“Please what?”

He smoothed your hair back away from your face as he watched you, and you swallowed hard. “Please, daddy.”

Your voice was hardly audible, but it made him smile as he ground his hips down against yours. “Say again? I can't even hear you; you're mumbling.”

“Come on,” you pouted. “You promised.”

“I want to hear it. Say it like you mean it.” He'd returned to thrusting shallowly in you, then, but only slowly. It was barely enough stimulation to tease.

“Fuck me harder. Please.”

“Are you really gonna make me ask you again?” Philip lifted your head with a hand beneath your chin to look at him. His pupils were blown wide. Between the way he felt, stretching you wide, and the way your skin rippled under his fingers on his neck, soft but firm, there's little he could've asked for that you wouldn't have done.

“Please, daddy,” you finally said. “I want you to fuck me. Properly. Like you mean it.”

“Oh yeah?” He sped up the roll of his hips against yours, his grin widening as he dropped his head to rest against your skin. “How properly? Hm? You want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, fuck, please,” you moaned, and he moved the hand on your neck to rest against the mattress, holding him up above you. “Please, please, please.”

He didn't respond, only pushing your thigh in his hand further against your chest as he lifted himself onto his knees. As he leaned over you, his grip on your leg lifted your hips into the air, driving your upper back into the mattress as he thrust harder into you.

“Shit, you're so tight,” he huffed, “that feels damn good.”

His words made you groan, and he pulled back fully onto his knees, holding you against him by the hips for leverage. Your grip twisted into his bedsheets as his back hovered out of reach, and you rolled your hips against him, meeting his thrusts as you arched your back.

“I don't know how long I'm gonna last.” His words were breathy. “You feel too good. Want you to cum for me first, though. What do you need for that, princess?”

“Touch me, daddy,” you pleaded, and he groaned, driving into you harder. His grip tightened in one hand, but the other released your hip to find your clit, circling it softly.

“Here?” he asked. “This good for you?”

“Yeah,” you moaned. “So good.”

Your hips jerked and your legs trembled at the dual stimulation, and it wasn't long before you found yourself close to orgasm, worked up from how overwhelmed you were. When you clenched down on him, he could feel it.

“Shit, you close?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Don't stop.”

“Never.” His thrusts into you slowed down only slightly so he could fuck you harder, your entire body jostled by the force, and your legs tensed as you finally reached your peak. You came with a gasp, and he didn't stop fingerings you, working your clit through the orgasm.

It was only when you found yourself too sensitive, jerking away from his touch, that he slowed down.

“You okay?” he murmured, thrusting gently into you. You nodded. “Can you keep going?”

“Please. I want you to cum. Want you to feel good.”

“Shit, okay.” His hand that was fingering you had been on your lower stomach, but it moved to your other thigh so he was holding you by the legs, pressing them into your chest. When he picked back up his pace, his grip tightened, and your mouth fell open in a silent whine. “Fuck. Yeah. You're so tight. You like that?”

“Mhm.” Your response came out a whimper as you sank your grip into the bedsheets, and you barely registered your fingernails digging into your palms.

He groaned. “Oh, God, I'm gonna cum.”

“Cum in me,” you pleaded, rolling your hips pathetically up against his. His thrusts were growing sloppy and frantic. “Cum for me.”

“Shit.” He came with a gasp, and although his grip tensed on your thighs for a moment, you barely had time to wince before he was releasing them, dropping them gently to the mattress before leaning over you to kiss you. “You okay?” he whispered against your lips.

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, and he pulled back enough to look you in the eye, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pulled him down to kiss you again. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He dipped down to kiss your jaw as he slowly pulled out, and your arms were limp on his shoulders as you caught your breath. “That was… I… well, fuck.” His voice was ragged as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, both your bodies damp with sweat. You had his hair between your fingers, fingertips tracing his scalp, and you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at his declaration.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” you murmured, and he chuckled as he lifted his head to kiss you on the mouth, leaning on his arm beside your head. He brushed a hair out of your face, hand coming down to hold you by the nape of your neck as his thumb ghosted over the bottom of your cheek. When he pulled back, he eyed your features thoughtlessly, gaze never leaving your face, and you squirmed under his scrutiny despite his soft smile.

“You’re staring.”

“Let me keep this moment for a few more seconds.”

You scoffed. “My hair is in knots and there’s mascara running halfway down my face. I’m not exactly a vision right now.”

He creased his brow when he looked you in the eye. “You have no idea how stunning you are, do you?”

You smiled timidly. “I won't turn down the reminder."

He grinned as he dipped down to kiss you softly once more. "I'm happy to let you know, princess." He rolled off of you and sat up to take off his condom, tying it off before discarding it in the trash. Your eyes ran over his toned back as he did so, watching the low light dip and swim in the clefts between his muscles, and he glanced back over his shoulder at you as you pulled yourself up to sit at his headboard. He raised an eyebrow when he saw you watching him. "What?"

"This still feels surreal," you said quietly, and he didn't respond as he came to sit beside you, waiting for you to go on. "Three days ago, we barely spoke. This isn't how I expected this weekend to end."

"That makes two of us." He glanced down at you, eyeing your pensive expression. "Even my most optimistic imagination was that we would come back friends."

"This never crossed your mind?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that, exactly." His playful grin made you roll your eyes. "What, like you never thought about it?"

"Only in moments of weakness," you defended, and he quirked a brow.

"'Moments of weakness'?" he repeated. "What does that mean? Late nights at the office when we're the only ones around? When I take off my jackets and you see a little too much skin?"

"When Susan's getting a little too handsy," you corrected him, and he grinned. "I wish she wouldn't do it in the middle of shared spaces, though, because God does that woman know how to paint a picture."

"Now I might actually have a good reason to cut her off," he said. "I wouldn't wanna make anybody jealous. That sounds like a bad way to facilitate a healthy workplace dynamic."

"What d'you mean, might?" you asked incredulously. "You're gonna go back to flirting with our boss after all this?"

"Depends," he said, and you self-consciously pulled your knees into your chest where you sat. "What are we doing when we get back?"

"I don't know." Your voice was small. "What do you want?"

"Well—" He took your hand in his from where it rested atop your knee, watching your fingers as you laced them into his. "—first and foremost, I want you to stop stealing my parking spot."

"It's not your parking spot."

"But then I want you to let me take you out." Your eyebrows jumped as he squeezed your hand. "Properly. Somewhere we're not putting on a show for my family or worrying about work."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned gently into you, bumping your shoulders with his. “Let's finally go on that first date I've been lying to my family about for so long.”

Your smile was soft. “And where would you take me?”

“Well, I could always use a date to my company Christmas party,” he said, and you couldn't help your laugh. “I have this hot coworker that I share a space with who I've been trying to make jealous for years.”

“Maybe if you just tried being nice to her you'd have better results.”

“Would you believe that never occurred to me?”

You glanced over at him, and he was watching you with shining eyes. “God, you're so dumb,” you finally said, and his laugh was surprised, “I can't believe it took us this long to just talk. All this goddamn time.”

“I didn't think we ever would.”

“I didn't think we had much to say. I guess I'm glad I was wrong.”

“You guess?” he repeated, and your eyes widened as you jumped to defend yourself before you saw his grin. “You really know how to make a man feel special, princess.”

“I try my best.”

He took you by the chin when he leaned in to kiss you, but this time it was clumsier than it was passionate, one smile pressed against another.

“So are we done pretending you're not a cuddler?” he whispered, and with a groan, you shoved him hard enough that he fell onto his back beside you, pulling you down with him.

————

“There's the happy couple.” Philip's family had let you sleep in late, and you didn't want to question whether it was because they'd heard you up as late as you were the night before. It was Eliza who welcomed you down to the brunch she'd made, beaming at your sleepy smiles and mussed hair. “I know you have to get on the road today, but will you linger just a bit at breakfast? It's been so long since you've been home.”

“Of course, Mom. It's good to be back.” He kissed Eliza on the head, releasing your hand as he followed her to the kitchen counter to take a plate. “We're not in any rush, are we, princess?”

“To be stuck in a car with you all evening? I'd be happy to wait.” The usual bite behind your words didn't land how it tended to, as your snark was half-hearted. He took one look at your soft smile and couldn't even tease.

“I'm sure.”

You followed suit in taking a plate from the counter, helping yourself to some eggs and fruit. When you and Philip sat, the table was uncharacteristically quiet, and you filled your glass with orange juice, taking a sip as you glanced around.

"So you two sure got a lot of sleep, huh?" Angelica was the first to speak after you sat, and when you turned to her, her smile was knowing. You pursed your lips, a grin threatening to break through when you met her eyes.

"Yeah, it's been a tiring weekend. We needed it."

"You really haven't had much time to yourselves, have you?" Alex asked. You raised an eyebrow. His voice was sincere. "I guess that's what they say about engagements. Once you're getting married, it's about everyone else as much as it is about you."

"I think we'll manage," Philip responded, resting a hand on your knee under the table. When you turned to him, he winked. "I don't think we're in any race to the finish line. Can't speak for you, princess, but I wouldn't mind taking a little time to enjoy where we're at."

"I don't disagree," you said softly before turning back to Alex. "Anyway, we've got work in the morning. We might be a little busy to wedding plan for the time being."

"But you'll get there, right?" Concern tinged Eliza's voice, and you and Philip shared a look.

"Everything in due time, right?"

"Of course," Philip said, squeezing your knee under the table. You took another sip of your orange juice to hide your smile.

“So Y/N?” It was William's small voice that piped up, making you raise your eyebrows. “When are you having a baby?” he said, and you choked on your drink. Philip patted your back as you set the glass down, coughing.

“What?”

“You said you weren't gonna have a baby until you got married. But now you're getting married, so when are you gonna have a baby?”

You took a deep breath as you looked at Philip with wide eyes. He barely seemed to register it, glancing back at you with an exasperated smile.

“We just sat down for breakfast, Will. Give Y/N some time.”

“Well I don't mean you should have a baby right now. Finish your eggs first.”

Your laugh was stunned, but it occurred to you that you should've anticipated this. Philip seemed to have.

“I think you might need to give us a good few years to finish our eggs first then, buddy. We're in no rush.”

“But I wanna be an uncle,” William argued, and Alex finally chimed in.

“Finish the first grade before you start worrying about being an uncle.” The chuckle this garnered was collective, but he did turn his eyes to you. “Congratulations, though. You two must be excited.”

“We are,” you answered before Philip could say anything, and you squeezed his hand where it sat on the table. He met your eyes, and when he turned his hand over to lace his fingers into yours, your skin tingled. “I think it's safe to say we've still got an adventure ahead of us.”

[snacho-to-ur-nacho]

'time heals all wounds' the entire john laurens tumblr page today is living proof thats not true!!!

[icarusbetide]

john laurens vibes!

are you normal or did you read a poem about how it's better for an athlete to die young with glory and immediately go "omg this is so john laurens' legacy and him never having the chance to be corrupted by politics or any future mistakes/failures!"

The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. Today the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay, And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose. Eyes the shady night has shut Cannot see the record cut, And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears. Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran And the name died before the man. Excerpt from "To an Athlete Dying Young" by A.E. Houseman

[my-deer-friend]

Okay, well, if everyone's drawing Kinloch...!

Inspired by @vocalized-intrusive-thoughts sharing their version, and based on the Rosenthal etching, but we're making him twenty-some years younger and giving him the most fashionable romantic cut that a 1770s boy can buy.

[almaprincess66]

It came to me in a daydream but the following scene got into my brain:

Hamilton standing on a table delivering a monologe being real magestic and prideful and collected. And when he finishes he realises that he has to get off the table but stumbling down would ruin this amazing picture so he hushes Laurens there to take him down the table.

And Laurens does by grabbing him like he weights nothing and puts him down directly in front of him and they stare into each other's eyes but then realise that they are in fact surrounded by people. So Laurens quickly brushes off Hamilton's shoulder and they both hold up their hands with a thumbs up going

"All good? " "All good." And then they akwardly smile while nodding.

Idk why but this looked really funny in my head.

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Meeting- John Laurens

Pairing: John Laurens x Hamilton!Reader

Characters: John Laurens

Warnings: N/A

Request: Wattpad- Then from new prompts a historical one for John Laurens with prompts "Let them see. It's not like we're doing anything wrong." with me being Alex's sister.

Word Count: 601

Author: Charlotte

Living with your brother and his family had its ups and downs. You loved Alexander and Eliza, along with all of their children but it did mean you were under constant supervision from one of them. You were grateful for everything Alexander had done, he had brought you into the country and gave you a life that so many people dreamed of, but it could never be the life you wanted.

There were so many expectations for a woman of status in New York, and that meant you had to follow more social rules than you could truly understand. Alexander himself, didn’t fully agree with what there was for you, but he didn’t want you to be shunned by society, so you had to behave and be who everyone thought you should be. You tried your best but sometimes you couldn’t help what happened.

Alexander did his best to keep you away from his friends, not wanting you involved with rowdy men or any discussions for war, but you didn’t see why you couldn’t be part of it just because you were a woman. Through the regular meetings and following your brother to meet his friends, you had gotten to know John Laurens, and it didn’t take long before you were meeting up with him without the others.

Of course, you never told Alexander about your meetings. Today he believed you were going for tea with a friend across town, but you were actually going to the corner of the park that had become your regular spot to see John.

Normally you could see his happiness and excitement when you first laid eyes on one another, but this time he looked solemn.

“What’s wrong?” You questioned.

“We shouldn’t be doing this anymore,” he stated.

It had been months since you started sneaking around together. You stole as many moments as you could together and exchanged letters when you were unable to meet in person. It had been unspoken, but you were both aware it couldn’t go on forever, but you had assumed things would go well, not end in flames.

“What do you mean?”

“I do not mean to hurt you, Y/N,” he said. “But I cannot keep hiding that I love you but if I told the world… no one would accept it… least of all Alexander.”

You paused for a moment. “I don’t care who accepts us, John. I do not care what my brother thinks, I only care what you think. Do you not love me?”

John took your hands in yours, pain clear across his face. He took a second, clasping your hands in his before he could say more.

“I love you more than words could say. I wish I could marry you and let the whole of New York know my heart is yours, but I do not want people to see you negatively.”

“Let them see! It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong,” you frowned.

“You are my best friend’s sister. You wouldn’t care what he thought if he knew we had been seeing each other?”

You shook your head. “Alexander will not be happy if you asked for my hand but he loves us both and he would have to accept our union, or lose us both. I love my brother, John, but I love you too. I hope you are both part of my future, but if he cannot value my happiness, then so be it.”

John raised your hand to your lips. “If you are sure, then we shall tell your brother.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything at all.”

[relovaaa]

Laurens, struggling to keep upright in his 1 inch heels: Yeah, I-I don’t really think heels are for me Philip, pointing at him and walking flawlessly in sparkly golden 6 inch heels: WEAK

[peterlorrefanpage]

Jan 26, 1946 | Hollywood Caption data: "John Garfield has his audience - consisting of Peter Lorre, Humphrey Bogart, and Lauren Bacall - well in hand at LaRue. He's telling them all about the difficulties of changing over from a gun to a violin for his part in Humoresque."

Who else was at that table? There's another arm there to the left of Lauren!

Also I first read that blurry caption title as "Hungeresque" until I looked it up, being unfamiliar with this violin film, and now I want to see that one instead.

======================

HUNGERESQUE

Where forks just get in the way!

=======================

ICYMI: John Garfield, Peter Lorre, and Richard Conte clowning around

[unproduciblesmackdown]

compilation of 54 below's instagram posts about the fri 7pm xmas show

[yanderedrabbles]

do you have any physical descriptions for each yanderes? like for cowboy yandere I’m imagining a dirty blonde tan skin, freckles and stubble on his face

Yandere boys and their physical descriptions

It kind of shifts around a lot and this is how I picture them but it's not a definitive description by any means. This is not canon.

Yandere! Cowboy is literally exactly as you described him. A real cornfed American cowboy. Strong jawline, stubble and blonde hair he keeps swept back under his Stetson.

Yandere! Soldier is the quintessential soldier from a Post-Soviet state. Buzzed hair, tattoos, a straight nose and high cheekbones. A bit on the pale side with dark eyes. Ridiculously buff.

Yandere! Boyfriend is a big guy. That's all I know. I usually picture him as Samoan. With shoulder length, wavy hair and olive skin.

Yandere! State Trooper is the definition of never trust a blond. He keeps his hair short and in a regulation cut but it usually gets a bit messed up whenever he runs into you. (We all know why). I see him as having forearm tattoos and he's almost always clean shaven. Usually has a light tan.

Yandere! Cop has a friendly, approachable face. He looks like a nice guy, someone you can trust to listen to you when you get in trouble. I see him as African American with a flat Midwestern accent. Usually keeps his hair short and within regulations, but he might sometimes get it braided. He's got plenty of lean muscle and he ain't afraid to use his strength when he needs to.

Yandere! Gangster is tall and strong, but still a bit on the thin side. Usually wears a suit but almost always takes off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. I picture him as a dark haired Denji from Chainsaw Man. Definitely wears one of those slutty silver chains that boys like so much.

Yandere! Incubus is tall with a slightly muscular build. Where does a supposed priest find time to get buff? Who knows. He has long dark hair that he keeps neatly swept back and that brushes the edge of his dog collar. He wears a dark wood rosary. His canine teeth seem unusually sharp. In his demon form, his eyes are usually a deep wine red.

Yandere! Desert Bandit is inspired by the Tuareg and Amazigh. I see him with dark skin, long black hair and golden eyes. He definitely has a hooked/Roman nose and a traditional tattoo on one cheekbone. Wears kohl in his eyes that gives him a very sexy glare.

Yandere! Academic Rival is a nepo baby so fashion wise, he usually wears suits, vests and shirts. He basically looks like a Ralph Lauren model. Goldish hair that's kind of wavy. A bit on the thin side. He relies on wits more than strength when he wants you to do something.

Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor is pretty much inspired by Deacon St John from Days Gone. Dark hair cut in a mullet and grey eyes. He's got a few tattoos on his back and he wears silver studs in his right ear. He's got a mean right hook too.

Yandere! Greek Champion is one buff bastard. Shoulder length black hair and olive skin darkened by the Mediterranean sun. I see him as having hazel eyes. A colour you'd think would be warm and inviting, but on him they look like the eyes of a hawk. Dangerous and just a little sadistic.

Yandere! Riot Cop is... well, he's in his riot gear so I guess you'll never know. Strong as hell, that's for sure.

[snacho-to-ur-nacho]

immigrants

we get the job done

[revolu]

I'm dropping (a bit old) john laurens yap here. Please correct anything you must + provide the source.

and we know very limited about John but whatever !!

Laurens was described by Hamilton to have honey blonde hair when clean. His hair was generally said to be light brown/blonde. As seen on portraits, he had soft features, blue eyes, and a big nose. He was described to be very handsome, and IMO I agree!! We don't know exactly how tall he was, but he was most likely over 6 feet. One day before Laurens' 15th birthday, his father wrote to James Grant; ''my Little Jack, now as big as I am...'' (Jack being John's nickname). We don't know Henry Laurens' height, but if he was as tall as Henry at 15, he certainly grew to be taller. In 1778, Henry wrote to John ''A Taylor has cut off as much of your Scarlet as will make he says a Wascoat for 6 feet 3 inches...'' which suggests that John could have been 6'3. It's not clear what exactly Henry means in the letter but as said, John was probably over 6 feet. Laurens was one of the strongest abolitionists of the time despite coming from one of the bigger slave plantations and growing up where slavery was normal. John could speak English, French, Italian, Greek, Spanish and Latin. We know that he was fluent in English and French but we don't know about his fluency in the other languages.

Laurens got Martha Manning pregnant and ended up marrying her out of pity (supposedly to protect her reputation too and to keep illegitimacy of their child.) He wrote to his uncle ''...Pity has obliged me to marry...'', When Laurens left for war, he left his pregnant wife in another country. When John was chosen by congress to be a special minister to France and had him travel there, Martha traveled with their daughter to reconnect with him upon hearing about his arrival in France. But John supposedly made no effort whatsoever to visit them; he completed his mission and went back to America. Martha later died during the trip and their daughter, Frances, was sent to live with her aunt.

John Laurens is believed to have been gay... The man didn't seem to express any attraction towards women, though I think his sexist beliefs played a role in this, as well as his lack of effort to humble his wife. His letters to Alexander Hamilton, and Francis Kinloch also suggest he had an eye for men... ESPECIALLY Kinloch's and his correspondence.

Henry Laurens wrote ''Master Jack is too closely wedded to his studies to think about any of the Miss Nanny's''. But it's important to note that he was a teenager at that time and not every teen develops those feelings at the same time. But I would imagine that since he was as tall as his father at 15, he was early in puberty... Romantic/sexual feelings usually come with puberty, but what do we know? Anyways. John expressed a lot of sexist opinions, even towards his own sisters, which can be read in letters. Most men were sexist, but John seemed to be more ''strict'' on the subject... This definitely plays a part in his supposed ''homosexuality''.

John hid the fact that he had a wife and child from Hamilton for nearly two years. Why? The reason is unknown. It's only up to debate. My guess is that he just wanted to try to ''forget'' them in some way, seeing as he literally left them... Why would you bring up that you have a family that you abandoned? But maybe it was because he never found the right time to tell him, or was it to get a better chance with Hamilton? We will never know, sadly. But what we DO know, is that Laurens referred to his wife as ''dear girl'', and Hamilton, and supposedly ONLY Hamilton, as ''Dear boy''. We know for a fact that Hamilton was close to Laurens and was special to him, but why did he call his wife that? Out of pity? He didn't necessarily show any real attraction towards her... But whatever the reason is, it's kinda cute.

We know that Henry Laurens was emotionally manipulative of John, which is like read in letters... So there is no denying that, really. BUT John was close to his father, attachment issues tsk, tsk tsk... But jokes aside, when John told his father that he wasn't super interested in becoming a lawyer or merchant like his father wanted, Henry wrote this to his brother; ''if he enters upon the plan of Life which he Seemed to pant for when he wrote the 5th. July, I Shall give him up for lost & he will very Soon reproach himSelf for his want of Duty & affection towards me, for abandoning his Brothers & Sisters, for disregarding the Council of his Uncle, & for his deficiency of common understanding, in making Such a choice_ if these reflections prevail not over him, nothing will_ he must have his own way & I must be content with the remembrance, that I had a Son.'' Basically, Henry said he would disown John if he pursued his interests in medicine. So, John ended up becoming a lawyer/statesman to please his father. There are more examples of John trying to please his father, but let's not take that now... HOWEVER, after John had died, Henry wrote of him in response to John Adams' letter; ''Thank God I had a Son who dared to die in defence of his Country'' ... We get a lot of mixed signals from Henry... Though I do believe he loved him, at least somewhat.., even if he was controlling/manipulative. Henry wasn't too nice to his other children either, but since this is about John I'm not gonna talk about that.

John's brother James died at the age of 9-10 (1765-1775)

James, or Jemmy, was supposedly scaling the outside of their house and tried to jump to the landing outside of John’s window but fell. He received life threatening injuries and cracked his skull. The doctors had figured that the injuries were too severe to save him and John described it to his uncle four days later; "At some Intervals he had his senses, so far as to be able to answer single Questions, to beckon to me, and to form his Lips to kiss me, but for the most part he was delirious, and frequently unable to articulate. Puking, Convulsions never very violent, and latterly so gentle as scarcely to be perceived, or deserve the Name, ensued, and Nature yielded."

Since John was supposed to watch over James during this time, John felt guilty and as if it was his fault. James' death was very difficult for John, and it weighed heavily on him.

Henry did little to alleviate those feelings of guilt, which suggests that he either didn't care enough, or that a part of him also blamed John. (I am not saying he 100% did, but it would not be surprising if he so did, considering how he treated John.)

He could also have been in too much grief to console John... Which, as said, would not be too surprising considering his treatment of John. But nevertheless, he did not do much to help John and John's guilt.

TW: mentions of suicide.

It is highly speculated that John was suicidal. We have a couple of written exchanges where John discusses suicide with friends and family. In February 1774, John wrote to Henry Laurens about two men who had attempted suicide. We don't have the whole letter, but here is a part of Henry's response; ''...But, my Dear Son, I trust that your opinion on that Question is So firm, that you are armed with Such irrefragable proofs of the Impiety as well as Cowardice of Self Murther, as puts you out of danger of being made a Convert to Error...'' (Not gonna put all of it). Another time, when John was a prisoner of war and didn't handle imprisonment well, Hamilton wrote to John ''For your own sake, for my sake, for the public sake, I shall pray for the success of the attempt (of being exchanged) you mention; that you may have it in your power to act with us. But if you should be disappointed, bear it like a man; have recourse, neither to the dagger, nor to the poisoned bowl, nor to the rope.'' It is clear that Hamilton (and Henry, despite how he treated John) were worried about John's thoughts of suicide. John's last letter to Hamilton was probably one of the, if not the, most emotional. He wrote ''Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.'' John died about a month later. On the day of his death, John and his men surprised a troop of British soldiers that outnumbered them. Instead of retreating, John chose to immediately attack. He did not really actively end his own life, though it seems as if it was planned or that he was trying. Which is just sad. Also, it's not sure that Hamilton's last letter to Laurens ever got to him before he died. (In that letter he tells John to quit his sword and come to congress with Hamilton)

I don't know what else to add actually but here you have it!! This is as accurate as I can get it, especially cause it's like mostly based on letters... Uhm. But yay!

[almaprincess66]

Can I offer a new Lams coded song?

Good Riddance from Hades

[my-deer-history]

Poor Laurens was killed in one of the last skirmishes in Carolina, he was a brave and generous Enemy_

Thomas Boone to Johannes von Müller, 7 October 1783

I was hoping for a mention of John Laurens in the Müller letter collection at the Schaffhausen archives, and I found one! It is, of course, about his death.

Thomas Boone was a British official and a Tory, which is why he calls Laurens an "enemy"; however, as with other British accounts of his death, there's an acknowledgment of his virtues.

The inclusion of the news in a letter to Müller also strengthens the case that Laurens and Müller met when they were both in Geneva. There's no doubt that Müller knew of him, given that Francis Kinloch was corresponding with Laurens over the time he was living with Müller (and you can practically imagine them huddling together and dissecting John's heated letters), but it's more likely that Boone would include the mention if there was a direct acquaintance.

[shotmrmiller]

Need to ask what kind of cologne the 141 waers?

kyle is the classic bleu de chanel. sexy. simple. delicious.

johnny is LV's imagination. it's light. (some say it smells like luxurious soap lol) + it matches his eyes.

john is musc ravageur. it's in the name. musk. cmon.

and simon i fear is a classic man who doesn't care for big names and whatever else. ralph lauren polo eau de toilette.

[therealestwizard]

solving my life problems by imagining alexander hamilton and john laurens to every song i listen to