Mar 15, 2019
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
More Kingsburr! Please!!!
I did fluff i hope thats ok its just that i’ve been doing fricken nsfw and i wanna break off from that and have more fluff and angst on my blog for my lovely handsome followers hhhhhhhhhhh but if you want nsfw ill write another thing for you hhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHH- ok here take
Aaron Burr was in his college dorm room, trying his best to stay quiet. Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens were on Alexander’s bed, making out and being as loud as possible while they did it. Aaron Burr was on the phone with his… “friend”. Or at least, he prayed to God that that’s what everybody thought they were.
George “King” Frederick III was the most popular and known boy on college campus. He had a fan club, popularity, a million girls or more to flirt with, and was in the best classes. He was majoring in beauty and fashion and minoring in politics and psychology. So he had the same political science class as Aaron, and that was about the only time they talked in front of people.
“Hey,” King sighed, “So where are you that you managed to call me?” He was outside a Starbucks, waiting for Samuel to come out with his unicorn frappuccino.
Aaron mumbled quietly. “I’m in my dorm. Alex is… distracted right now. He’s with John.”
“Ah say no more,” King groaned, “I don’t want details on that hot mess. Blegh. So how’s my favorite blue bird doing?” Aaron blushed and rolled his eyes. George and all his silly little nicknames for him.
Aaron replied, “I’m fine, idiot. How’s your silly little fan club? Nobody stalking you today?” He heard laughter on the other end and smiled with contempt. George’s laughter was so beautiful and stupid at the same time.
“Oh I’m being stalked alright. They think I don’t see them around the corner or in the bush over there.” King spoke loudly, waving at the two girls hiding in the bush nearby. He winked and went back to his phone conversation. “I wanna see you, why don’t you come here?”
“I’ll ruin you.” Aaron whispered, “You know that. Believe me I would love to cuddle with you… Be held by you… let you kiss me everywhere-”
“Save the sweet talk for the bedroom, blue bird.” King teased, “I’ll see you tonight. I’m coming to your dorm. What’s the number?”
Aaron huffed, “John and Alex are fucking, I’m not telling you my dorm number.”
“Soooooooo, 406?” King giggled. Aaron huffed and hung up, rubbing his eyes in annoyance.
George got his frappuccino from Samuel and went to his car with a smile. He waved goodbye to the stalkers and sped off to the college. Once he got into Aaron’s room he immediately picked the boy up, brought him to the bed, and forced him into a cuddle session. Alex and John, naked but covered with a thin sheet, were staring in awe as the most popular rich and privileged boy in school was cuddling with Alexander’s snotty roommate.
“Love you, blue bird,” King said in a singsong voice. Aaron huffed and buried his head in the other’s chest.
“I love you too, ya dork,” Aaron sighed before closing his eyes and dozing off.
idk if i ever posted these but have some more kingburr yall @badromantics
KingBurr prompt- cuddling
@badromantics
A prompt in exchange for the set terms. The Contract is sealed.
Burr turned and twisted in his opulent, feather soft bed. He was lying in the literal lap of luxury, but he could not sleep. All because of his damn cold. Burr sneezed again, for what had to be the tenth time. Tears streamed down his cheeks, not from pain or sorrow, but from a simple watering of the eyes, taken to the extreme.
That wasn't even the worst of it. Burr sneezed again, wiping the resulting mess of his nose onto the fine silk bed sheets. He knew it was gross, but couldn't even care. He was too tired to get up for a handkerchief, but his nasal passages were completely blocked through.
Another unconscious tear dribbled down the side of his nose. Aaron flipped onto his other side, wiping it off on the pillow as he did so. It had to be well past midnight by now. All he wanted to do was sleep, but his stuffed nose, dry eyes, and dry, swollen throat said otherwise. This was almost worse than the journey to England he was forced into during his abduction. Certainly it was the worst thing to have happened since being taken into the King's dubious custody. That included his strange lack of propriety and the way he kept draping his arms over Burr like a heavy coat. It even included the vaguely humiliating dress-up session that the King called 'developing your wardrobe, little bird'.
Funny, that Burr's most miserable moment was due to something that the King had nothing to do with. Burr decided not to analyze that.
The King... was a strange character. Burr hadn't been held in the palace for all that long, but he'd figured that out pretty quick. The only consistent, predictable thing about him seemed to be his bizarre, unending interest in Burr. It was unnerving, but between the choices laid out for him- the King's company, or the isolated, yet accommodating safe house originally meant to imprison Hamilton- Burr would pick the King every time.
Burr tossed himself again, burying his leaking nose deep into the pillow, an act of pure frustration. Also, however, an act of regret as thin strands of mucus stretched from the pillow when Burr pulled back. He huffed, wiping his nose with the cloth of his nightshirt and flipping the pillow. This was disgusting, and he was never getting to sleep.
Finally, he sat up, swinging his legs to the edge of the bed. Burr wasn't sure what his plan was, beyond retrieving his handkerchief from his desk. Burr blew his nose as harshly as he could, thinking. Again, his mind wandered back the the King. Was he asleep? It was a distracting thought.
It wasn't like the King could order away Burr's dratted cold. Additionally, it was really putting his majesty's strange affection to the test, bothering the King of England at the crack of dawn because he was frustrated about being just a little too sick to sleep. On the other hand, Burr was miserable, incredibly sleepy, and frustrated and bored in equal measures.
The King bothered Burr all the time over nonsense reasons, and even over nothing at all. He could afford a taste of his own medicine. Burr padded out the door.
The guard night shift nodded to Burr as he passed. Anyone in this wing likely already knew all about Burr, so it was little surprise. What was slightly surprising, however, was the guard standing right in the way of the King's bedroom. It probably shouldn't have been a surprise.
Burr coughed, only slightly forced- his throat was incredibly itchy. “Ah, his majesty wouldn't happen to be sleeping here..?”
The guard gave him a very strange look. Burr almost wilted then and there, suddenly wishing with all his might that he hadn't bothered- there was no way the guard would let him in the King's room while he was sleeping! Burr was a revolutionary officer! What was he even doing? But, before Burr could apologize and turn around, the guard nodded very slowly and very cautiously, then proceeded to rap sharply at the door before sliding out of the way.
The guard opened the door for Burr, shooting him a strange, cautious look the whole while. Burr, just as cautiously, thanked the man and slowly crept in.
“Who is- it's the middle of the night, what?” the King's half asleep voice echoed through the ridiculously large bedroom. “...Burr!?” the King blinked in front of Burr, bedside candle flickering and only barely illuminating his face.
Burr stared as the King rubbed his eyes wearily. It was a vulnerability he hadn't been expected. Like this, in fine but nondescript night clothes, he just looked like another wealthy man, rather than the most powerful person in England. He certainly didn't look like the man responsible for the whole war, and Burr's capture in specific.
“Little bird, is something wrong?” The King frowned, stepping closer but not pushing. Burr sniffled- mucus attempting to drip down once again. The King jumped, eyes widening at the sound. “Little bird?”
“I'm-” Burr coughed, his throat too scratchy. Again, he started to regret everything. “I've got a cold and I can't sleep. I don't even know why I'm here, I'll just-”
The King seized Burr's hand as he tried to turn around. “So, you've come to me?”
Put like that, it sounded even more ridiculous. “Sorry for waking you.” He made to tug his arm free, but the King gripped tight, adding his other hand as well.
“Don't be sorry,” The King's voice was quiet, so sleepy that it lacked his usual flair. It sounded more genuine than Burr had thought possible. “Didn't I tell you I wanted you to come to me for anything? There is a reason I've ordered my guards to allow you full access to my person. Here, come.” The King was tugging now, and Burr found himself gently following, guided to the bed. Burr sat down on the edge.
“Now would you like to sit here while I fetch the doctor?” The King placed a hand on Burr's chest, easing him into a lying position. Burr let it happen, his embarrassment drained from the earlier moment; he was left only with his ever-present sleepiness.
Burr sneezed yet again, and turned over on the bed so he wasn't facing the King for his next words. “Please don't,” Burr asked, voice just above a whisper. “I just want to sleep.”
“Oh, I- oh.” Burr couldn't see the King's reaction, but he could feel the confusion. No doubt he wondered who Burr thought he was. “Well, what kind of help would you like?” Cloth shifted, Burr could feel the King lean closer.
Burr sighed. He was already this far, congested and miserable and thoroughly out of line. He might as well just admit what he secretly wanted, too sleepy at this point to really care. “Just cuddle me, please.” This, he really did only whisper. Close as he was, and silent as the room was, the King had no trouble hearing.
The King didn't verbally answer, instead slipping immediately in behind Burr. He scooted over to give the King more room- who wasted no time closing the gap and pulling Burr into a possessive embrace. It was so warm that Burr felt himself relaxing almost immediately. He nestled back into the chest behind him, slotting his head against the King's cheek. Arms tightened securely around him, and their legs tangled.
Burr sneezed, whining at the almost violent motion. The King shushed him gently, laying a warm kiss on his forehead. “It's okay, my songbird. I'll take care of you.” His arm shifted, bringing with it a soft handkerchief to wipe at Burr's nose.
Being absolutely coddled like this should have shamed Burr. The fact that it was the King of England should have degraded Burr utterly.
Burr had no use for should haves, here. They were left back in America. Here, however, he was warm and relaxing and he might finally be getting some air through his nostrils. He shifted in the King's hold, turning towards him and curling inwards. The King patted his back, drawing Burr impossibly closer. His face squished comfortably into the King's neck as comforting circles were rubbed gently into his back.
Burr slept like a baby. When he woke up, the King was still holding him tight, smiling contentedly against Burr's scalp, each puff of breath tickling his short hair. It was impossibly comfortable, to the point where Burr dreaded getting up. He decided to doze off again or at least relax and pretend to sleep- it wasn't like he could regain his dignity after last night, anyways.
The King's smile stretched wide.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
All Aaron could see was water. A map of the Atlantic Ocean was laid out on the desk with a course drawn over it. “Where are we going?” Aaron asked. “We’re sailing to England. You're not a hostage, Mr. Burr. You’re a guest.”
Butler Pt. 10
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But C O N S I D E R : king georg / herc boi / bURR
……
*SCREAMS*
hercukingburr