Lafayette x fem!reader
Using writing prompt: I told you I loved you a couple years ago, but I didn’t think you heard me. Now you keep calling me your girlfriend, what is going on?
I got this idea from a fic I read forever ago from another fandom. I don’t remember the author or the title of it, but I am definitely NOT taking credit for this idea.
Most of this is dialogue
This has been sitting in my drafts for the past two months
Warnings: none I can think of
Word count:916 (it’s really short)
You and Lafayette had been friends since you had first met. He moved to America from France in your sophomore year of high school, and now you were both in your third year of college together. You had to admit, that you had developed a bit of a crush on the foreign boy. He had the personality of a shooting star; full of energy and so bright. And as an added bonus, he was very gorgeous. Plus the sexy french accent? You were more than head-over-heels in love with this boy. You knew though, that he didn’t reciprocate the feelings. That’s a least what you thought. You were positive he just wanted more of a platonic relationship rather than romantic.
Yesterday, Lafayette had brought up the idea of introducing you to some of his friends from the debate team. It hadn’t really occurred to you that you had never met them, as he talked about them all so fondly and often. So you both agreed to meet up with each other at a little cafe on the campus.
With the weather being so nice, you decided to dress some-what nicely, opting for a cute lacy sundress and sandal wedges. You grabbed your wallet and phone, quickly shooing a text to Laf saying you were on your way.
The cafe was three blocks from your dorm complex, so you walked, enjoying the warm feeling of the sun on your skin. You couldn’t help the bubbly feeling in your stomach, the butterflies fluttering about just thinking about Lafayette.
As you saw the cafe sign coming up, you quickened your pace a little. In the glass windows, you saw him sitting in the circular booth with three other men. He met your eyes, waving at you with the brightest smile on his face. The butterflies only grew. You pushed open the doors, running over to their table.
Lafayette stood up, pulling you into a tight hug, planting a big kiss on your cheek. The smell of his fancy cologne filled you senses. He gently tugged you into the seat, moving in beside you.
“Mon cher,” Laf started, wrapping an arm over our shoulders. “I’d like to introduce you to my friends. This is John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton, and Hercules Mulligan.” Directing you from left-to-right from the guy with a head of dark curls and freckles, the slightly smaller man with slick black hair, to the very tall man in the grey beanie. You gave a small wave.
“So,” drawled out John, “you’re Laf’s lady-love he’s talked nonstop about?”
Wait, what? You stole a glance at the man who still had his arm over you shoulder.
“…yes…?” You said, more as a question than an actual answer. Lafayette squeezed your shoulder, pressing another kiss to your cheek. The three other men covered their eyes and gagged.
“Laf, we’re in a public space! Keep your lovin’ to yourselves.” Hercules groaned.
“It’s called public displays of affection, and I’m not afraid of showing the world how much I love my dearest y/n.”
The feeling of butterflies had now twisted up into a knot, and instead of the light airy feeling, it felt strange and unfamiliar. This confusion didn’t sit well with you.
Lafayette walked you home. It was mostly him talking though, you stayed quiet. He started to pick up on your uneasiness after a few minutes. He stopped walking underneath the street light.
“Mon amour, what is wrong?” You bit your lip hearing his soft words.You weren’t sure what was wrong, but you knew it was there. And you couldn’t stop the words from leaving your lips.
“What’s going on?”
“Quelle?” You took a deep breath.
“Back at the cafe, and your friends calling me your girlfriend, and I’m just so confused!”
“Why wouldn’t they call you my girlfriend?” A look a worry crossed his face.
“Since when have I been your girlfriend?” This seemed to take him a moment to process.
“Y/n, we’ve been dating for four years now.” He held his hands gently over your shoulders, eyes locked with each others’.
You ran a hand through your hair.
“I mean, I had assumed you were my girlfriend at this point, considering how long we’ve been together.”
“Wait, you like me?” You said, cheeks flaming with heat.
“Y/n, of course I like you. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I thought you just wanted to be friends!”
“You told me you loved me!”
“That was in eleventh grade at homecoming, I thought you didn’t hear me!”
“I asked you on a date that same night!”
“I thought it was because you wanted to hang out!”
“We’ve literally been living with each other for the past three years! Mon amour, I’ve kissed you on the lips! That’s not something that just-friends do!”
“I though it was because you’re from France and you were being friendly!”
“Are you seriously stereotyping me right now?”
“Don’t change the subject!”
“Mon cher, stop yelling!”
“Shut up and kiss me!”
He took your face in his hands, pressing his lips to yours. It felt like electricity, pulsing through your body at an insanely fast rate, buzzing you to the brim with energy. You couldn’t seem to stop pulling each other closer and closer, digging your fingers in his hair, his hands moving to your back. You pulled away, completely breathless.
“So,” you started after a beat of silence. “You do like me right?”
He only laughed, taking you hands in his.
“Oh, mon amour, you are ridiculous.”