oneshots » hamilton x reader

Say You Won't Let Go (Alexander Hamilton X Reader)

I met you in the dark, you lit me up
You made me feel as though I was enough

His life had been chaotic. Anyone could attest to that. 

​​​​​He had pushed his childhood away from him, as far as he could. Reliving those hellish years was the last thing he wanted to do. But lately, they had begun to resurface, and the dreams, the nightmares that shook him and forced him awake, sweat pouring off him, began to drain him. His work was growing busier and the load forced upon him became too much to bear. There was no time for anything else; his days consisted of writing and eating quickly, with an hour or two of sleep shoved haphazardly into his crammed schedule if at all possible. Even a man of his constitution and pure stubborn will couldn't keep up with such a timetable. He began to feel dark tendrils of hopelessness, of depression, curl around him, their hold ever tightening. 

That was, until he met her. 

He hadn't wanted to go to the party, but Hercules and Laf had insisted. 

"Alex," Hercules pleaded. "Only for a few hours. I promise it won't be much. You don't even have to drink. Besides, you need a break and I'm going to push you out of this door and into that bar if it's the last thing I do."
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"You might even meet someone special," Laf added. 

"That doesn't interest me," Alex told him, although something inside him, a small voice in both his head and heart exclaimed that it did. His weary soul was desperate for some type of companionship, someone who would care for him and make sure he was fine. 

Needless to say, Lafayette must have predicted the future. He walked into the bar and promptly sat on a stool, shaking his head at the bartender when asked if he wanted anything. He prepared himself for five hours of extreme boredom, until the voice came along and wiped everything away. 

"Is this seat taken?" you had asked, your light perfume wafting across him. He looked up and promptly forgot how to speak. 

Beautiful eyes, soft-looking mouth, hair slightly disheveled. Every small imperfection blended into a perfect vision.

"Uh—um, no, no one's sitting here," he stuttered out, feeling his face grow warm. 

"(Y/N) (L/N)," you said, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Alexander Hamilton," he managed. "Can I—can I buy you a drink?"

The rest was history. He stammered out a request for your number and texted you ten minutes after you had left the bar. That led to a couple dates and he finally asked you out three months after that fateful night. 

You made him feel like he owned the world, like he was worth it. You gave him an incentive to work through the fog in his brain, to endure the long hours of stress, and your smile swept him away every time. 

We danced the night away, we drank too much
I held your hair back when
You were throwing up

"Alex, please? It's my birthday!" You pleaded with him until he finally gave in. It was your birthday, and you wanted to go to the same bar you had met him at. He was wary (he didn't like to drink and his tolerance levels were astronomically low) and secretly didn't like you being in such an atmosphere (he felt like the first man you saw would sweep you away from him), but he finally relented. You bounced excitedly on your feet and kissed his cheek. 

"You're the best!" He blushed and touched his cheek softly. Your heart melted at the small action.

"You're so cliché. I love you," you added. 

No matter how many times he heard you say those words, a spark went through him that felt brand new each time. 

"I love you too."