You’d been working for the royal family for over a decade now. You knew every nook and cranny—every secret passage and hidden room in that palace. It was practically your home. You took care of it, constantly sweeping and dusting and mopping.
You also took care of Jung Hoseok, the spoiled prince residing in it. You always cleaned his room, washed his clothes and made his meals. But then somewhere in the mess of everything, you began taking care of him in a different way.
You always had a close friendship with the prince but that’s all it was—friendship. Until one day, two years ago, he approached you. That’s when it all began, your secret relationship with the seductive prince.
No one knew about your relationship, everyone always assumed it was purely friendship. No one ever expected the handsome prince to fall for a lowly maid like yourself, which made the relationship all the more perfect, in a sense.
At least twice a week you two would meet up for discreet, eager sex, and today was one of those days.
“Come ride me,” Hoseok demanded sternly, eyes already mentally undressing you. He sat in his gold throne with his crown sitting crookedly on his head. His robe fell around him, engulfing him in a pool of black fur.
Yuuri and Victor got too drunk in Sochi and decided they really hit it off, so they got married. Right there. Victor cries because his new son vicchan passed away before he even met him...
Victor Nikiforov tries to make it a point in life to not have any regrets.
So marrying Katsuki Yuuri is definitely not going to be one, if he can help it.
“Victor,” the man giggles now, poking his cheek. “Your turn.”
He’s so, so beautiful. A drizzle of champagne drying on his chin, that god-awful tie wrapped around his hair. His shirt wrinkled, half of its buttons gone. His trousers, entirely disappeared.
(Victor likes that. He likes that he’s marrying a man who’s not wearing any pants. He’s so trendy. Always doing things no one’s done before, surely. He can’t wait to tell Yakov, already eagerly anticipating the strangled sigh-groan-combination that’s become sweet music to Victor’s ears.)
“Your vows, Vic-Victor,” Yuuri prompts him, his laughing mouth relaxing into a small smile on his perfect, perfect face.
Victor blinks. “Right.”
He glances at the minister, who is smiling very politely at them. He’s a bit red-faced from having a wad of rubles thrown at him to “marry us right now, пожалуйста, right now, right here, onegai.“ The man had pointed them towards some preliminary paperwork, asking them several times, “Listen, you have to sign here but are you absolutely sure—”
The looks that they gave him shut him up right away.
“I’m marrying this man,” Yuuri had announced. “So hard. I’m marrying him so, so hard, and then afterwards…” He hiccupped. “Afterwards, I get to take him back to the hotel and-and…”
Yuuri went on to describe in full detail—or in as full a detail as a man pumped full of two bottles of champagne can go—several lovely, intimate, exhaustive courses of action that he also swore he would do so hard. It was perfect (everything he does is so perfect), the minister said he appreciated it, and Victor found himself nodding along tearfully and crashing hard, the impact greater than any fall he ever made on the ice but softer than the thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton comforter he falls into every night that he’s back home in St. Petersburg.
Which reminds him.
“St. Petersburg, Yuuri,” he says excitedly, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him close. “Can’t wait to take you home, show you around, you’ll get to see Makkachin and—you have a dog, right? You’ll bring your dog, and we’ll…”
Yuuri’s eyes fill with tears. “Vicchan is dead.”
“Vicchan? Oh, that’s so cute, that’s like my name, maybe we can make Makkachin’s middle name Yura, then, except—” Victor stops. “Did you say dead?”
Yuuri nods, clutching fistfuls of Victor’s shirt, tears streaming steadily down his face now. “He… there was…”
Perhaps the only regret he’ll have of tonight, then, is learning the news that he’ll never get to see his son and namesake, but he includes in his vows several animals that they’ll raise together, along with the names of four children that he’d decided on since thirty-eight minutes ago. Yuuri sloppily wipes his face with his wrist, pushing his glasses up adorably before adjusting them back on his perfect, perfect nose and saying with a cracked voice and a perfect, perfect smile—
harry saying nothing rn is totally cool and fine IF he’s still on hiatus and not dropping an album in 10 weeks (or less). the registration of a touring company does show an intent, regardless of when it’s going to happen. so, i really hope he’s not putting out an album until after dunkirk. mainly because he’s so distanced from 1D fans right now and it makes him look like a person that i know he’s not.
if he were to wait until after dunkirk, it would be perfect timing. he would have re-engaged his fans and also engaged new ones with dunkirk promo…awesome segue!
and yes, i’ve been a total supporter of harry’s right to silence during this hiatus. which he DOES have and it’s totally copacetic IF he’s continuing hiatus until around when dunkirk promo starts. but to just not be engaged at all and then suddenly drop something out of NOWHERE and just expect everyone to buy it just because we’re here…seems arrogant and presumptuous and i don’t like it.
so…in conclusion…i love harry TO DEATH, as if he were my own, but i don’t like this vibe right now. don’t get me wrong, i’mma still buy his album but…i don’t like the whole… situation (IF it is in fact, the real situation) and jeff should Do Better if this is happening Soon.
Pairing: none. this is the father-son relationship between Washington and Lafayette. all of you washette shippers, prepare to be disappointed
i have no idea what universe this is, could be either Hamiltime or modern AU
Request: @the-small-croissant : Love your work OML! I just found you and I’m hooked, a huge part of me is obsessed wit the adorable father-son relationship with Lafayette and Washington, it’s not really an actual ship as is is just a father-son thing, but a cute fluffy thing in your writing of that would kill me in the best of ways and yeah, sorry to bother, just not throwing away my shot here to request~ ^^
Word count: 631
A/N: i don’t know if lafayette’s dad was actually a dud, that’s just what i decided to do. i don’t write washette, i don’t ship it. i know there’s got to be someone else who writes fics who does ship it, so go ask them. :) also this is really sweet and i loved writing it. super short and it took me less than an hour. i guess i’m making up for the lack of fics this previous week. anyway, enjoy!
Lafayette heard Alex’s yell from several yards away, and the Frenchman winced. Alex had a temper, and he didn’t have very good control over it. Personally, Lafayette was fine with Washington acting as his dad. The guy was great at it, and Lafayette would much rather have had George Washington be his father than his actual one.
Lafayette couldn’t hear what Washington said afterwards, but Alex came out of the command tent with his head hanging, looking dejected. “He’s sending me home,” the Caribbean immigrant muttered. “Says that I overstepped and need to leave.”
“I heard your yell,” Lafayette said tentatively, well aware that he was treading on dangerous territory. Alex’s face scrunched up and then fell.
“Yeah. He kept calling me ‘son’. ‘Son, I need you alive’ and ‘son’ this and ‘son’ that. I…just…my real dad, the shittiest dad to ever dad, he left. Up and left, leaving my mom and me alone and I don’t want the general to leave me too…I’m just scared,” Alex rushed out, his eyes reflecting his pain. He clenched a fist. “Anyway…see you sometime, Lafayette. Good luck in France.”
Lafayette nodded and let Alex walk down the path.
He cautiously stepped up to the command tent and poked his head inside. “General Washington?”
The general was pacing, back and forth, back and forth, worrying a rut in the floor. He was muttering distractedly to himself, turning a letter over and over in his hands. He looked up at the sound of Lafayette’s voice. “Yes, son?”
“Is everything alright with Hamilton, sir?”
Washington shook his head, lowering himself into a chair. “No. His wife wrote a month ago and asked for him to come home, as she is pregnant. Then the whole mess with Charles Lee…in short, he’s not doing so great.”
“That’s unfortunate, sir.”
Washington gestured to the chair next to him. “Come sit.”
Lafayette sat next to the general, staring into the fire. He started when Washington cleared his throat.
“He did make it pretty clear that he does not want me to call him son anymore. Would you also like for me to refrain from calling you son?”
Lafayette shook his head. “I don’t mind, sir. You see, Hamilton’s real dad left him when he was a kid, and I think he’s simply afraid that you’ll also leave him. He probably doesn’t want to get too close to you, so that if you do abandon him, he won’t be hurt as badly.”
Washington made a murmur of agreement in the back of his throat. “I can see that. But what about you? From what I understand, you also had a bad father experience.”
Lafayette shifted a bit. “Umm, yes, sir. But I’m fine with you calling me son. You’re a much better father than he ever was. I like having you as my dad.”
A smile broke out over Washington’s face, and memories flashed through Lafayette’s head. He saw Washington welcoming him into the army, being patient while he stuttered half in English and half in French, having trouble learning a new language, encouraging him, training him, making him feel welcome and loved. Washington was a very good acting father to him, and he was glad.
“I’m proud to be thought of as your father,” Washington said quietly. “Now, son, leave, before I get all overly emotional. Go to France and get us some support.”
Lafayette stood, saluting the general. “Yes…” He debated for a second. “Father.”
Washington sighed. “I told you to leave before I got emotional!”
Lafayette laughed and ducked under the tent flap. He walked through the camp and to a port, to find a ship, to sail to France, to come back to General Washington, his father.
Likes are appreciated, reblogs are wonderful, comments make my day
Hey! I’m Sky, 13/14, I’m from Portugal and I’m pan (I think)
I’m a very soft bean and I love Dnp/A bunch of other YouTubers, anime, music, space, musicals and a bunch of other stuff!
I’m also (He/They) even though it may not seem!