Warnings: horrible writing, oh my god its horrid, angst??.
Prompt: Loved the poppa-fic!! Please do a King George x reader in Hamiltime with these prompts:20, 282, 645,727? Maybe reader wants to go to America and George wants them to stay.
Pairing: John Laurens x Reader, Alexander Hamilton x Reader
Words: around 500
A/N: It’s so messy my god. Also, sorry this’ll be done in parts
because im a lazy ass bi-
(Y/N) - your name
The cold sheets beside you was a common feeling nowadays. George had rarely came to bed when you were sleeping, that is at night. You hugged the duvet closer to your body, imagining George’s body beside you, remembering the good old days.
You laughed as you sprinted down the empty halls, George, the king of England, chasing after you.
“(Y/N)! Wait!” He wheezed before doubling over to regulate his breaths. He seemed fine before he started coughing.
“Ah! George!” you squeaked, turning around to dash to his side. You patted his back while he coughed. Wait- that wasn’t coughing, that was laughter! Before you could do anything, you were lifted from the ground.
“Eep! George put me down!” You yelped as he spun you around in circles. He laughed at how cute you were being.
“But my Queen, you’re so cute! And you’re just pure eye candy if I do say so myself.” He smiled, stopping and setting you down on the floor. You let out a small gasp and playfully punched his arm, causing him to chuckle at your reaction.
“George! The way you flirt is shameful,” you mocked him.
“I know, I know.”
You finally decided to get out of bed. The cold wooden floors sent shivers up your spine as your bare foot made contact with it. You walked to the closet, grabbing a (f/c) dress with a beautiful lace covering the neck area and sleeves. You put on your flats and headed out of the bedroom.
“Hu- woah!” You were shocked George suddenly falling onto you. You noticed how his eyes had dark bags larger than the ones yesterday. He was already falling asleep. You slowly but surely dragged him to the bed, removing the thick coat off of him in the process. How many times had this happened now? Ten, eleven times? You’d lost count. You set him on the bed and bounded out of the room. You wondered what he was doing before he collapsed into your arms. You walked through the hallway to make your way to his ‘office’.
The ‘office’, I guess you could call it, was rather messy. For someone who prefers things to be organized, this was very uncommon. You took hesitant steps towards the desk, scanning the items on it. There were letters and letters spread out over the wooden table. Why was he getting so much mail? You picked one up and skimmed through some of its content.
“Yada yada… the rebels are uncontrollable yada yada … War is about to start blahblah blah. Blah blah send backup yadayada.”
War? That explains his unusual all-nighters. You could see why he was getting so much mail now. You skimmed through some of the other letters, all following the same lines of a war and needing help or guidance. You wondered why these people wanted freedom, these rebels. George wasn’t a bad ruler, was he?