Historical Fics

George Washington X King George III

Ahah

So, this should be... fun!

This but it is... ✨Historically inaccurate and sexy✨

Well, now that that thought has cursed your mind, I hope you enjoy it! 

So, a rundown of this chapter if you just want to skip it. King George and Washington have a sit-down discussion of whether the war is actually necessary. It escalates into a frenzy and... I assume you know what happens next. 

Disclaimer: King George III and George Washington never met in real life, the plot is solely for fun.

C/W

Strong language, kinky shit, rough kinky shit, hate sex (sorta one sided), and a few other things. Please don't read if you don't like anything mentioned here. 

Story Begins!

Washington's P.O.V

I growled slightly, looking at my papers. If Hamilton had actually gotten everything into order as he was supposed to, then it would've been easier on me. I slammed my hands down against the desk, entangling my fingers into my hair. I'll just meet with the king myself. This damn war is wearing me down. I need a fucking break before I actually lose it. 

I look towards one of the blank papers, pulling it over, debating whether I should be the one to write it or wait for Hamilton to arrive. He's always been better with wording. Speaking of Hamilton, he is a lot later than usual. I stood up, making my way to the tents' exit. I pulled back the flap, looking around. Strangely enough, I couldn't spot the loudmouth. 

Guess I'll write it myself. 

I walked back into the tent, sighing heavily. Things like these tents make me miss the winter's cold weather. The only times we honestly stayed in cabins. 

With a huff, I sat down at my desk, grabbing a quill from the well. I haven't been this stressed since the French and Indian War back in 1754. I dipped the quill back into the ink, thinking about how I should start the letter. 

'To the one and only King George III...' 

I scribbled over the writing simply because that's not the proper way to greet a tyrant. 

'Your majesty, King George III...'

I scribbled it out once more. Too formal, especially for someone who is supposedly against the king. I sighed furthermore, just wishing Alexander was here. He knows how to write more convincingly than I do. 

I sat the quill back in the well for a moment, tapping my fingers against the desk. As my hopes were about up, Hamilton stumbled in, panting. I gave him a questioning glance, and he merely offered a weak smile. 

"Alexander..." I spoke softly. 

"I'm so sorry..." The freckled boy gasped, acting as if he was about to pass out. I rose a brow, straightening my posture. 

"Where have you been, son?" 

"... I was up for so long writing I lost track of time... I was so indulged in what I was doing..." 

I sighed, figuring something of that sort was what happened. It was apparent as well. His face was swollen from lack of sleep, bags were heavy under his eyes, and his hair was sticking up. I rolled my eyes after a moment. 

"Your tardiness shall be excused. I have to request something from you, however." 

"Yes, sir?"