When Lance was a kid his mom would say his skin looked like the wings of a butterfly.
Something that was beautiful in how the colours stood out over the base.
She would tell him that he was her little butterfly painted by the angels.
She would tell him this everyday he came home crying because of the teasing from the other kids and the pitying looks from the adults.
When Lance turned ten he stole his sisters makeup and used it to cover the pale areas that were visible on his face, neck and arms. Just to see what it would be like he went to town and for the first time ever blended in. He felt absence of confidence coming from the makeup. But he didn’t want to upset his mom. However getting makeup off is much harder then putting it on.
That’s why hours later his Mom found Lance in the bathroom desperately scrubbing at his skin as she called him for dinner.
He broke down and began to cry begging her not to angry for trying to cover up.
His mom just smiled and kissed his temple telling him that if he wanted to cover up he could or if he wanted his skin on show that was fine too, that he was perfect ether way.
So Lance started wearing makeup and gained a new kind of confidence that he never had before. He was louder and happier even flirting.
When he went away to the Garrison he took enough makeup with him to last until Christmas telling himself as long as he had makeup then everything would be ok.
But the night they found Shiro, Lance didn’t have his makeup with him.
He went to space without it.
With every day that passed the small container he always carried for touch ups became emptier and emptier. He knew it wouldn’t last forever but tonight of all nights to run out.
Lance stared in the mirror at the pale splattering that stretched over his eyes as he desperately rubbed at his skin praying to be able to cover up.
But it was no good.
He was out of makeup.
He wondered if Allura had any and if she would mind him borrowing some. But if he asked then she would see.
What if she laughed?
What if she told the others and they treated him differently?
He couldn’t take the teasing again he just couldn’t.
He put his hands on the sink trying to will himself to calm down. If he could just get to Allura’s room then he could steal her makeup and look normal.
Wrapping his blanket round his head allowing it to trail along the floor behind him Lance tip toes through the hall way.
At this time in the morning most of the other paladins were usually in the kitchen having breakfast or for Keith getting in some training before grabbing a quick bite to eat. This didn’t do much for Lance’s anxieties through. Just the thought of being outside his room without makeup on caused his chest to tighten with panic.
This was so much worse.
He felt like every cell in his body was on edge, vibrating with fear of being caught.
When he reached Allura’s room he had to wipe the sweat off his hands before getting the door open.
Allura’s room was huge.
Much bigger then all the paladins rooms combined and filled with various alien nick nacks and photos from Altea.
Lance felt bad about being in her room without permission, but he told himself it would be worth it in the end.
However after almost an hour Lance had found nothing.
He felt his chest tighten as the tears began to fall.
What was he going to do?
The team already thought he was nothing but a pretty face, he’ll be even less then nothing if they realise he’s not even that.
As his breaths came less frequently and quicker Lance slowly slipped down to the floor holding his throat with his hands.
He didn’t hear the door slide open.
He didn’t hear the gasp or the sound of footsteps running over to him.
But he did hear his name.
“Lance?” Allura asked panic clear in her voice. She put a steadying hand on his shoulder trying to get him to look up at her. “Lance tell me what is wrong! Are you hurt? What happened?” She asked sounding like a worried mother.
Lance’s only response was a slow shake of the head.
Allura recognising the panic attack hugged him in her strong arms humming a calming tune.
After a while the tears stopped and Lance found himself able to breath normally again. He stayed in Allura’s arms letting her rock him gently back and forth closing his eyes and listening to the calming sound.
“Pretty song” Lance whispered.
“My farther would sing it to me when I was young.” Allura answered a note of pain to her voice. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong?”
Lance shook his head earning him a sigh from the princess.
“Well…is there anything I can do to help?
Lance was quiet for a moment “do you have any makeup I could borrow?” He asked nervously playing with the hem of the blanket.
“Of course. But I do not understand, you often boast about how perfect your skin is.”
A bitter laugh escaped Lance’s throat. “My skins ugly.”
Allura was so surprised by this answer she pulled back just to try and see if the blue paladin was joking. He had to be joking…right?
“Lance why would you think that?” She asked gently.
Lance slowly, very slowly looked up. The blanket falling off his head and showing his face to the older woman.
Allura couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her lips as she stared at Lance.
His face began to crumble “I knew it! I knew this would happen!” He sobbed curling in on himself.
“No no lance I didn’t mean anything bad!” Allura rambled quickly. “It’s just I did not realise humans also had marks of beauty like Altean’s.”
Lance sniffed looking up at her “marks of beauty?” He asked.
“Yes” she tapped the pink marking on her cheek “on Altea it was a sign of beauty to have markings such as yours on your face. They called them marks of the Drioborn bug… I believe you have something similar on Earth. Butterfly I think they are called.”
Lance smiled for a moment “yeah butterfly is right.”
After his little heart to heart with Allura, Lance though still self conscious didn’t outright hate his skin anymore. He borrowed her makeup as to feel more confident but eventually he opened up to the team allowing himself to love who he is as much as his team does.
“A Secret That’s Worth It”
Carl x Reader, Negan x Reader
Word Count: 9,670
Negan x Daughter Reader, Carl x Reader
Summary: You’re Negan’s teenage daughter and from the minute you saw Carl, he sparked your interest, leading to a relationship between you two.
Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, mentions of death, kinda smutty
A/N: Does not follow the show exactly, I had to change up some things for the sake of the story, but I tried to make it as close as possible.
He was the first person you noticed when you stepped out of that RV.
He was wearing a flannel and a cowboy hat, and even with one of his eyes covered up and it being dark out, you could see how bright blue they were. You didn’t know his name, but you certainly were attracted to him.
Your father, Negan, had told you to stay inside the RV while he went out there and talked to them. He had told you that he was going to kill one of them and that he didn’t want you to see that, so you needed to stay away.
“Y/N, I do not want to see you out there. Your ass better stay in here, alright?” Negan had warned you. You didn’t listen. You had heard him talking to their group, and you got curious. All you wanted to do was see what they looked like, nothing more. You opened the door slightly and peeked your head out, making the attractive boy turn his head and look at you. They all did, but he was the only one you noticed.
“Dear daughter, did I not tell you to stay inside?” Negan bellowed. You knew he was trying to scare the group- that was his way of being a big, bad leader. He intimidates everyone. And by the look of everyone’s face, they were definitely afraid.
◆ —— CURSE OF THE BLACK PEARL QUOTES STARTER PROMPTS.
❛ They’re safe ❜ ❛ She’s/he’s/they’re safe, just like I promised. ❜ ❛ And you get to die for her/him/them, just like you promised. ❜ ❛ We’re all men/woman of our word. ❜ ❛ This is either madness or brilliance. ❜ ❛ It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide. ❜ ❛ Me? I’m dishonest. ❜ ❛ And a dishonest man/woman/person you can always trust to be dishonest. ❜ ❛ It’s the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly.. stupid. ❜ ❛ This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught NAME. ❜ ❛ You cheated. ❜ ❛ Pirate. ❜ ❛ You are without doubt the worst pirate I’ve ever heard of. ❜ ❛ What’s your purpose? ❜ ❛ I confess, it is my intention to commandeer one of these ships. ❜ ❛ I confess, it is my intention to raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out. ❜ ❛ I said no lies. ❜ ❛ I think he’s telling the truth. ❜ ❛ If he/she/they were telling the truth, he/she/they wouldn’t have told us. ❜ ❛ That’s not true. ❜ ❛ I am not obsessed with treasure. ❜ ❛ Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate. ❜ ❛ You’re supposed to be dead! ❜ ❛ The only rules that matter are these: what a man/woman/person can do and what a man/woman/person can’t do. ❜ ❛ Pirate is in your blood, boy. ❜ ❛ I can let you drown. ❜ ❛ So, can you sail under the command of a pirate, or can you not? ❜ ❛ Drink up, me hearties. Yo ho. ❜ ❛ You burned all the food, the shade.. the rum! ❜ ❛ Yes, the rum is gone. ❜ ❛ Why is the rum gone? ❜ ❛ It is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. ❜ ❛ The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me. ❜ ❛ Do you really think there is even the slightest chance they won’t see it? ❜ ❛ There’ll be no living with him/her/them after this. ❜ ❛ I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against PLACE. ❜ ❛ There are a lot of long words in there, Miss/Mr. ❜ ❛ We’re naught but humble pirates. ❜ ❛ What is it that you want? ❜ ❛ I want you to leave and never come back. ❜ ❛ I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Mean’s no. ❜ ❛ I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean. ❜ ❛ Too long I’ve been starving to death and haven’t died. ❜ ❛ I feel nothing. ❜ ❛ You best start believing in ghost stories, NAME. You’re in one. ❜ ❛ No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder? ❜ ❛ If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it. ❜ ❛ I want you to know that I was rooting for you. Know that. ❜ ❛ It never would have worked between us, darling. ❜ ❛ I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know. ❜ ❛ How far are you willing to go to save her/him/them? ❜ ❛ I’d die for her/him/them. ❜ ❛ You need to find yourself a girl/boy, mate. ❜ ❛ Who are you? ❜ ❛ No one. He’s no one. Distant cousin of my aunt’s nephew twice removed. Lovely singing voice. Eunuch. ❜ ❛ A wedding? I love weddings. Drinks all around! ❜ ❛ I love this song. ❜ ❛ You’ll be positively the most fearsome pirates in the Spanish Main. ❜ ❛ You stole my boat! ❜ ❛ I borrowed. Borrowed without permission, but with every intention of bringing it back. ❜ ❛ It’s frightful bad luck to have a woman on board. ❜ ❛ She/he/they go free. ❜ ❛ You only got one shot. ❜ ❛ We can’t die. ❜ ❛ Don’t do anything stupid. ❜ ❛ The crew are not to be harmed. ❜ ❛ Curse you for breathin’, ya slack-jawed idiot. ❜ ❛ You should know better than to wake a man when he’s sleepin’. It’s bad luck. ❜ ❛ Savvy? ❜ ❛ It’s not worth you getting beat again. ❜ ❛ You didn’t beat me. ❜ ❛ You ignored the rules of engagement. In a fair fair, I’d kill you. ❜ ❛ That’s not much incentive for me to fight fair then, is it? ❜ ❛ The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers. ❜ ❛ You know nothing of hell. ❜ ❛ How can we sail to an island that nobody can find with a compass that doesn’t work? ❜ ❛ I’m actually feeling rather good about this. ❜ ❛ You could surrender. ❜ ❛ I’m gonna teach you the meaning of pain. ❜ ❛ You like pain? Try wearing a corset. ❜ ❛ Wretch. ❜ ❛ I couldn’t resist, mate. ❜ ❛ That’s got to be the best pirate I’ve ever seen. ❜ ❛ I cannot just step aside and let you escape. ❜ ❛ This shot was not meant for you. ❜ ❛ You’re pirates. ❜ ❛ Hang the code, and hang the rules. They’re more like guidelines, anyway. ❜ ❛ You lying bastard! ❜ ❛ Don’t dare impugn me honor, boy/girl! ❜ ❛ I always liked you. ❜ ❛ It goes with your black heart. ❜ ❛ I really rather hoped we were past all this. ❜ ❛ Perhaps you’ll conjure up another miraculous escape, but I doubt it. ❜ ❛ Do us a favor. I know it’s difficult for you… but please, stay here, and try not to do anything… stupid. ❜ ❛ Even a good decision if made for the wrong reasons can be a wrong decision. ❜ ❛ Any man who falls behind, is left behind. ❜ ❛ Take what you can! Give nothin’ back. ❜ ❛ I hardly believe in ghost stories. ❜ ❛ We are cursed men. ❜ ❛ Will you be saving her/him then? ❜ ❛ I can’t swim. ❜ ❛ I’m watching over you. ❜ ❛ I should have told you from the moment I met you. I love you. ❜ ❛ Hang him. ❜ ❛ Keep your guns on him, men. ❜ ❛ How did you escape last time? ❜ ❛ This man/woman/person saved my life. ❜ ❛ One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness. ❜ ❛ Come out… and we promise we won’t hurt you. ❜ ❛ I invoke the right of parlay. ❜ ❛ I can’t breathe. ❜ ❛ You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before? ❜ ❛ I had a dream about you last night. ❜ ❛ You don’t want to be doing that, mate. ❜ ❛ I’m curious. After killing me, what is it you’re planning on doing next? ❜ ❛ Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death? ❜ ❛ You forget your place. ❜ ❛ So, this is where your heart truly lies? ❜ ❛ I already feel like a fool. ❜ ❛ I admire a person who’s willing to do whatever’s necessary. ❜ ❛ You’re a smart man/woman/person, but I don’t entirely trust you. ❜ ❛ I’m not sure I deserved that. ❜ ❛ I may have deserved that. ❜ ❛ You’re safe now. ❜ ❛ You’re despicable. ❜ ❛ I saved your life, you saved mine. We’re square. ❜ ❛ I can get you out of here. ❜ ❛ I’d need a lot more to drink. ❜ ❛ It was a good plan.. up ‘till now. ❜ ❛ Do not make the mistake in thinking you are the only man here who cares for NAME. ❜ ❛ Is there a problem between us? ❜ ❛ Every decision you’ve made has only brought us from bad to worse. ❜ ❛ Easy on the goods, darling. ❜ ❛ I’m not entirely sure that I’ve had enough rum to allow that kind of talk. ❜ ❛ He’s still breathing. ❜ ❛ Easy on the goods, darling. ❜
“I told you guys to watch his margarita intake, so really, you people brought this upon yourselves.” You tucked your phone into your back pocket as you approached Niall and Louis. “I hate to say I told you so, but I-”
“Yeah, yeah. We know, you’re always right. Can you jus’ go in t’ere and deal with him?” Niall snorted, tugging you into the hotel room and pointing to the direction of the couch. “I managed to pry him off of me after about twenty minutes of forced cuddle time.”
“The more you fight him the tighter he’ll snuggle you.” You clicked your tongue, making your way over to the couch and smiling softly at your clearly drunk boyfriend. He looked like he was asleep, but you really couldn’t tell because he had his sunglasses on… Why did he have his sunglasses on?
“Harry…” You trailed off, receiving nothing as a response. Maybe he had conked out for the night. Of course, you had spoken too soon because before you knew it, his sunglasses started wiggling up and down, a lazy smile growing on Harry’s face.
“Oh my god, it’s my girlfriend!” Harry snickered, the arm hanging off the edge of the couch reaching out and wrapping around your thigh. “Tha’s right, you’re my girlfriend…”
“That’s what he said to me an hour ago! I can’t believe I lost a boyfriend so quickly.” Niall teased, laughing lightly when Harry’s arm jolted causing you to nearly fall forward.
“C’mon, Harry. Time to get up. I was about to take a bath so you’re lucky I walked down the hall to get you.” You poked his cheek before turning to look at Niall.
“Will you at least help me- Ow, Harry!” You paused when you felt Harry bite down on your finger, a giggle slipping past his lips afterward. “Will you at least help me carry him back if he doesn’t budge?”
“I’m way too tired for t’at, Y/N. I’m sure you can manage. You’re a strong girl.” Niall yawned, looking ready to pass out as well.
“Louis, how about-” Louis had already fallen asleep and was snoozing away looking awfully comfortable on the sofa chair. Obviously, this was going to be a one-woman job.
“Harry, get up!” You frowned, letting out a huff when Harry chewed on your finger in response. “What can I say to make you get your ass up?” You pushed Harry’s arm off your leg before bending down so that you were face to face with him. “Hm?”
“Tell me what I wanna hear, baby…” Harry purred, a hand reaching up to pat at your face.
“You’re gonna have to tell me what you wanna hear. What do you want?”
“Y’know wha’ yeh haven’t done in a while that I really wan’ you t’ do?” Harry perked up, lowering his sunglasses until they were on the tip of his nose.
“Wan’ you t’ ride my-”
“Hey! Okay, okay. We don’t- You don’t have to finish that sentence.” You clamped a hand over Harry’s mouth, looking over your shoulder to see if Niall was still in the room. (He was. But he was on his phone, so maybe he didn’t hear.)
“Oh, please, Y/N? Yeh haven’t done it in so long and- and a man needs to be dominated once in a while, you feel?” Harry hiccuped, flopping back down on the couch before pouting at you. “I’m not leavin’ till you agree.”
“Harry- I- You can’t blackmail me into-” Again, you glanced over your shoulder before turning back and leaning closer to Harry. “You can’t blackmail me into bloody riding you.”
“I know yeh wan’ to, though. Cos you can’t get enough of my dic-”
“For cryin’ out loud, Y/N. Give t’e man what he wants!” You jumped when Niall spoke up from behind you, your cheeks growing red as you got up from your knees. For the record, it had been a while since you… You know. And the idea of… you know… sounded kind of nice?
“Fine! But he’s not getting up anytime soon so it’s not going to be happening-”
“No, no! I’m walking, I’m going.” Harry hiccuped, pushing himself off the couch before stumbling towards the door but not before turning and shooting finger guns in your direction. “You’re gonna get it t’night, love. Jus’ wait and see.” He hummed, leaning against the frame of the door with a wide grin.
“Alright, Ni. I’ll see you in the morning. Make sure Louis gets into bed.” You patted the top of Louis’ head gently before turning to walk towards Harry, only to realize he had fallen asleep in the span of twenty seconds.
Looks like you weren’t going to get it tonight, after all.
Warnings: angst!, a tiny bit of violence, swear words, alcohol
Summary: Being Bucky’s best friend (after Steve of course) gets a lot of perks - but being in love with him WHILE being his best friend means that your adoration must be kept a secret. That also means you have to silently endure every single encounter with women he has whether he tells you or you see it for yourself.
A/N: So this one shot is based on the Amy Shark song “Adore You” (she speaks to me on so many levels!) and I just really wanted a Bucky fic for it because he’d be absolutely clueless to someone adoring him like this…I also kind of skipped over the “oh look at him I’m in love with him” fluffy stuff and I just focused on the couple of days leading up to the point reader can’t take it anymore. I like the angst - it fuels me *evil laugh*
Y/F/I = Your First Initial
I’m just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm
I’m just gonna walk home kicking stones at parked cars
But I had a great night ‘cause you kept rubbing against my arm
I’m just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm
You hugged Wanda and Nat, giving small waves to the boys, before turning to Bucky.
“Hey B, I’m going to head back to the tower. The mission took a bigger toll on me than I thought.” You made a show of rubbing your neck, hoping the sadness in your eyes would be mistaken for exhaustion.
Bucky turned away from the young, curvy brunette tucked under his arm, his smile fading as his eyes scanned over you with concern. He didn’t move away from her, nor did you move any closer, instead you gripped the strap of your bag hard, until your knuckles were white, in an effort to ignore the pain radiating through your chest.
“Are you sure? Did you want me to come with you?”
You gave serious thought to saying yes, knowing he’d probably give the woman a kiss and get her phone number before following you out of the bar, talking your ear off about how she was this and that. All the while, you would be fighting the anger and nausea bubbling up your throat, fighting back the urge to scream at him to shut up about her and every other woman, just fighting to keep your face neutral as you listened to the love of your life pine after any and every other woman but you.
The end had finally come and despite the amount of time you spent preparing for it, it still felt like a punch in your stomach. The knot in your throat was painful and your lungs still struggled for air to breathe. Tears clouded your eyes and turned your vision blurry until his face was unrecognizable.
A/N: Request from @btrombley13: You should write a Gaston x reader where, much like Belle, he just keeps trying to win her over but the reader just keeps denying. Maybe where the reader continously teases him, whether it’s by joking with him or wearing a dress which just compliments the reader in best ways. I just thought that would be funny and actually kind of cute. Cause lets face it, Luke Evans Gaston is amazing ^_^ have a good day :)
A/N: Sure! Of course! I hope this was what you were looking for!!
For years, Gaston offered you his heart and hand, but you would respectfully decline his wish. You liked Gaston and all, but you feared of settling. You didn’t want to settle to early on in life. You were young and ambitious. Plus, Gaston and you have been companions longer then before Gaston showed you signs of love. You also didn’t want to see that kindled relationship be destroyed if things fell through. Gaston, on the other hand, knew he had you reeled in, it only just a matter of time. But since you and Gaston were still only friends, you were certainly not shy from the idea of messing with one another.
Summary: After receiving a very rude letter of your ex on the mail saying that he is going to get married. You see yourself not knowing what to do, you can just let it go or accept the help of your hot neighbor and pretend he is your boyfriend.
All happened in slow motion, one moment you are pushing Lucas away from you and the other Bucky is holding Lucas by his shirt lifting him in the air. Bucky punches him in the face, you can feel that Bucky didn’t use half of his strength and that he even pulled his punch back a little.
Sure Lucas would wake up in pain and with a black eye tomorrow, but Bucky could have killed Lucas with just a punch, after all he is a super soldier. Bucky drops Lucas on the floor and his expression soften when he looks at you “Are you okay?” He asks gently.
You nod and he takes your hand. You watch as Lucas gets up from the floor and all you can feel is rage because Lucas has a smirk on his fucking face. How dare him kiss you? Why did he think that he had the right to kiss you? For that moment you let the rage take over you.
Summary:Sons of Anarchy meets Supernatural. In this AU, the Winchesters run the most notorious biker gang in Lawrence. They traffic illegal drugs, weapons, and anything else that makes them money and keeps them on top. Characters in this chapter: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer, Kevin Tran, Jo Harvelle, Pairing: Eventual Dean Winchester x Female Reader Word Count: 2,219 Warnings: Language Author’s Note:This series isn’t going to be light and fluffy. It will include explicit language, explicit sexual content, casual use of illegal drugs, possible explicit canon typical violence.
Freedom. That’s what it felt like when Dean hopped on his bike, and rode down the streets of Lawrence. Even the back roads. Especially the back roads. It didn’t matter if he was going 20 or 90. It was the wind that surrounded him, pushed through his hair, up and over his shoulders. It was the fact that as he rode, nothing else mattered. Not John or Bobby grooming him to take over the family business. Not Mary pestering him playfully that it was past time to find a woman. Not Jo pining after him like he was a goddamn football quarterback. Nothing. It was just him and his bike.
Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors
and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find
Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about
dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?
A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”
I’m really behind on posting my parts for this challenge, I’ve got a long weekend, I wanna move this along because I’m dumb and entered another challenge, and I don’t wanna be a PIA for Kait, so I’m posting more frequently. Tags are closed.
A/n: My friend is on an internship in New York, and she has tickets to see Hamilton… which got me thinking… I was bored and procrastinating… and I hadn’t written a soulmate AU in years… I need to reclaim my title as soulmate queen. (Also, apologies, I don’t know the tags for this fandom, sooo… This is a thing right?)
Soulmate AU where the first words your soulmate says to you appear on your arm. Written in third person. Starts in James Madison’s POV then shifts to Thomas Jefferson. No warnings other than Thomas has a bad attitude.
There are three facts about Thomas Jefferson of which James
Madison was absolutely certain: 1) Thomas Jefferson does not have a soulmate.
2) Thomas Jefferson doesn’t want one. 3) It’s probably for the best that he
James had known Thomas for many years now, and he doubted
any living person knew the man better. Even so, it didn’t take an expert to
know Thomas’s view on the subject. Any person with eyes could look down at
Thomas’s arm and see it lay bare of words. Any person who’d had a conversation
with him on the subject could see he didn’t want to find any words there, and
every person who’d ever encountered Thomas, even in passing, had likely come to
the same conclusion as James. It was for the best. The universe was saving
whatever poor woman would have been latched to him from a life playing second
fiddle to Thomas’s ambition and hubris.
Looking across the banquet hall, James could see Alexander
Hamilton, who had been deep in conversation with Thomas for much of the
afternoon, coming to those same conclusions. Hamilton had been among the first
batch of people to approach Thomas when he arrived, and James barely salvaged a
moment to warn Thomas of the situation before he dove into a lengthy discussion
with the young immigrant.
James couldn’t decide whether he was amused or terrified. The
pair seemed to be amicable enough at the moment, but that could change in a
flash. Hamilton and Jefferson were both as stubborn as each other, and they
were both fully equipped with sufficient verbal ammunition to break out into an
all-out war right in the hall. James had a sneaking suspicion the only reason
the two had yet to shed any blood was due to the close proximity of President
Washington, the host of tonight’s affair.
“Someone should really go and separate those two before they
realize how terribly opposed their views are. I’d hate to get any blood stains
on the new rug.” James glanced up to see it was Martha Washington who spoke.
Smiling James offered a hand out to greet the woman, “I do
believe that will happen regardless of our intervention, ma’am.”
Martha gave a simple nod in the direction of his hand, and
James’s hand dropped, realizing both of hers were occupied. In her left Martha
held a nearly empty glass of wine, and in her right she held a hand, not her
James studied the younger woman attached to Martha’s side
with interest. She had a death grip of Mrs. Washington’s hand and looked to be
cowering behind the older woman. To her credit, Martha also appeared to be
shielding the girl, who looked about ready to sink into the floor. The forlorn
expression on her face and the tightness on Martha’s told James that neither of
them particularly wanted the young woman to be there. Whether that was because
Martha did not care for her to be at the banquet or whether Martha cared to
protect her from it, James could not be sure.
“Mrs. Washington, I do not believe I’ve had the honor to
meet your acquaintance,” James addressed the unknown woman with a slight bow of
his head, “James Madison.”
“Oh, of course,” Martha flashed a forgetful smile James
would have believed had he not seen it before. “Mr. Madison, this is my dear
younger sister, (Y/n) Elizabeth Aylett.”
“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” James bowed his head.
The woman, whom he now knew to be (Y/n) Elizabeth), gave a
one-handed curtsey in response and a rather hesitant smile. Her grip on Martha’s
hand loosened slightly, but she made little move to approach him any closer or
step out from behind Martha’s guarded stance.
“Has your sister been introduced to Mr. Jefferson or Mr.
Hamilton? Perhaps we could make their acquaintance on that pretense,” James
suggested, waving a hand to where his oldest friend stood, still in deep, uninterrupted
discussion with the new Secretary of Treasury.
“James!” A familiar voice boomed as a hand came down firmly
to clap James on the shoulder. “I am so glad you could come.”
James turned to face George Washington and extended a hand, “Mr.
President, did you really think I would miss a welcome banquet for my oldest
George accepted James’s hand and shook it firmly. “Your
oldest friend who has spent the majority of the night politely refuting every word
that has left the mouth of Secretary Hamilton.” George gave James a pointed
smirk. “I dare say those two are cut from the same cloth.”
“I don’t know if I would go that far, sir.” James nodded his
head in the direction of the pair, who seemed to have been quietly escalating
their disagreement. “Even if they were, I doubt either would admit it. However,
I do think they are both stubborn enough to continue this fight until someone
forces them to cease blows.”
“Oh let them stew for a moment more,” George waved off James’s
concern with a light chuckle. “They both work best when they’re angry. Perhaps
if we leave them to it long enough they’ll build the whole country while trying
to outdo each other.”
James did not share George’s confidence in the pair of men.
He didn’t know who he was more concerned for. He’d seen Hamilton work. The
young man had an unmatched determination, and put to work it could do some
serious damage. However, Thomas Jefferson was not a man to cross, probably a
fourth fact to add to his list if he ever felt like expanding it. There had
been more than one occasion over the course of their friendship that he found
himself thanking the heavens Thomas was on his side not against him. Nevertheless,
James allowed George to table his concerns and the conversation to steer away.
“You know James,” George glanced down at the younger man’s
sleeve covered arm with a knowing smirk. “Mr. Burr is here tonight.”
James’s hand instinctively went to his arm. Under the
sleeve, the first words from his soulmate, Mr.
Burr speaks very highly of you, Mr. Madison. “I’m afraid I have already met
all of the women you have invited tonight, not including Mrs. Aylett.” He
gestured to Martha’s sister. “Though I appreciate your concern.”
“Well no danger of that tonight, Mr. Madison.” Martha piped
up, still holding firmly to her sister. “Perhaps the next banquet,” with a kind
smile she added, “We’ll see to it Mr. Burr is invited to all of them.”
“How kind of you, Mrs. Washington,” James nodded politely.
James waited silently as George turned to address Martha
about the time dinner would begin. His eyes wondered over to (Y/n), who also
seemed very uninterested in the conversation. Her eyes had wandered away, and
her guard had dropped slightly as she looked around the room. James followed
her gaze to Jefferson and Hamilton who had since been joined by Aaron Burr, the
same Aaron Burr who would one day introduce James to his soulmate.
‘No danger of that tonight,’ James reminded himself of
Martha’s words, harsh but true. It occurred to him at first that she may have spoken
prematurely. He knew everyone else in the room, but her sister had yet to speak
a word to him. It didn’t seem likely, given that (Y/n) probably did not know
Aaron Burr and had no reaction herself to his first words to her. Even so,
Martha had said it with an odd sense of finality. If James could not see the
looping cursive peeking out from under (Y/n)’s sleeves, he’d have assumed
Martha was so assured in her statement because her sister had no soulmate. He
supposed, now, it must have been because she knew the words on her sister’s
arm, or that her sister had already found her soulmate. Though if that was the
case, why was he not here?
A million possibilities were running through James’s mind.
There wasn’t anything else particularly interesting to do that night.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, didn’t anyone tell you the war was
over?” The voice of Aaron Burr echoed across the hall. Clearly James had been
too soon assuming the night would be uninteresting.
George caught James’s eye. “Let’s go end the squabbling;
shall we?” George offered an arm to his wife, and (Y/n) reluctantly dropped her
death grip on Martha so her sister could accept.
The married couple led the way, and James followed after them
beside a meek-looking (Y/n) who still refused to speak. The poor, quiet girl
was walking into a lion’s den with Burr, Jefferson, and Hamilton. If she was
hesitant around him, he could only imagine how badly she’d be spooked by the
other three men. James made a concerted effort to circle around to her other
side and place himself between her and the other three. He’d thought he’d been
subtle with the gesture, but the sheepish smile (Y/n) sent his way told him
otherwise. His only reply was to nod in confirmation.
“Mr. President,” Aaron Burr gave a bow of his head to the
approaching group, effectively halting all conversation between Hamilton and
Jefferson. “How are you this evening?”
“Quite well, Mr. Burr. How are you? Enjoying the
festivities, I see,” The president looked between his two secretaries
Hamilton, at least, had the respect to look scorned, “My
apologies, Mr. President. Secretary Jefferson and I were simply discussing…”
“Enough of that,” George waved away Hamilton’s concerns. “This
is meant to be a celebration. Mr. Jefferson has only just returned to us from
France. Let’s leave our work to the office, shall we?”
“Of course, Mr. President.” Thomas Jefferson gave a
respectful bow of his head. “Thank you for hosting this dinner tonight. I
appreciate your hospitality.”
“And we appreciate your assistance. I look forward to
working with you, but for now let’s enjoy our evening.” George addressed the
pair of them.
Hamilton bowed his head and turned his attention from the
group. “If you all will excuse me, my soulmate is speaking with Mrs. Adams and
appears to want my attention.” He went off with one last nod to the President.
“You haven’t even made it into work yet, and the two of you
are already finding things to bicker over,” George’s tone was teasing, but
there was a certain sense of warning to it that none of the group missed.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it bickering, merely a
difference of opinions unrelated to work. I’m sure we’ll be able to put it aside
in future work.” Thomas politely refuted the President’s concern.
“Unrelated?” James cut in. He knew both men well enough.
They had plenty of points of contention related to politics. He couldn’t
imagine they would have had enough time to make it through all of them and find
something else to argue about.
“Soulmates, of course,” Thomas waved his hand in the
direction Alexander had retreated. “He brought up the topic and seemed rather
disgruntled by my stance on the subject.” Thomas was being very careful not to
launch into his opinion again. He doubted this group, Martha and the woman he
didn’t know in particular, would appreciate it.
“Ah yes,” George mused. “Alexander mustn’t be familiar with
your perennial bachelorhood.”
“I was married once, you know,” Thomas pointed out to George
with a teasing tone that in no way seemed to disagree with George’s statement.
“It happens sometimes,” Martha seemed to miss the tone in
Thomas’s voice and took him more literally. “You know, people getting married outside
of soulmates.” Her eyes trailed to the other woman in the group, standing
between George and James and trying desperately to avoid eye contact with
everyone in the room.
Thomas’s eyes trailed over the girl. “Who might your friend
be, Mrs. Washington?” The question was addressed to Martha, but his eyes were
firmly on the woman, expecting the answer to come from her.
She made no move to answer or even acknowledge Thomas’s
presence, and Martha piped up immediately in response. “Mr. Jefferson, this is
my sister, (Y/n) Elizabeth Aylett.”
“Can she not answer for herself?” Thomas fought the urge to
roll his eyes when he looked back to Martha.
“As a matter of fact -” Martha sputtered out, agitation
bubbling up in her expression.
“Mr. Jefferson,” George warned coolly, all pretense dropping
from his voice.
Thomas wanted to scoff. He couldn’t get a word out today
without being berated, first by Hamilton, then Burr, now the Washingtons. This
banquet was supposed to be in honor of his return, and all he wanted to do was
leave. Any other day he would have been the epitome of cordial, but that
Hamilton had wound him tight. He wanted none of this.
Turning to (Y/n), he practically growled out his first words
to her, “What? Are you mute or something?”
Everyone froze for just a moment. Aaron Burr was looking at
him aghast. James’s expression was simply exasperated. George Washington had
the stern expression of a no-nonsense general, and Martha looked a mixture of
angry and shocked at his side. The woman, (Y/n), simply looked resigned. She
was meeting Thomas’s gaze now, but the look in her eyes was not that of a woman
scorned. It looked more like a woman broken.
The look in her eye was all Thomas needed to realize he’d
made a mistake.
(Y/n) turned to her sister and made a quick gesture, wiping
her fingers twice over the palm of her outstretched hand, before she turned for
“Wait, I-,” Thomas reached out to the woman, ready to
apologize. Instead, his hand was snatched away.
When he looked back, he was expecting a disappointed James
or maybe a wary Aaron Burr. He was certainly not expecting to have to look down
into the eyes of an absolutely livid Martha Washington. “You… You…” She was
trying desperately to form sentences, but her anger was suppressing her speech.
“I’m sorry, deeply sorry.” Thomas looked away ashamed. “It
has been a rough evening. I didn’t intend to take it out on your sister.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?” Martha’s voice was growing
louder with her building rage. “You should be apologizing to (Y/n)! Not just
for this, for decades of hating herself! Do you realize how much damage you’ve
done to her?”
Now Thomas was confused, very confused. “I beg your pardon,
“Every day she wakes up to those words burned into her arm!
Ashamed of who she is and knowing you’re ashamed of it too!” Martha’s ranting had
attracted attention from a good portion of the banquet hall now. George reached
out to his wife, trying to rein her in.
Thomas tried placating the irate woman. “I don’t understand
what you mean, Mrs. Washington. Perhaps, I should just go find (Y/n) and…”
George took the matter on himself and pulled his wife from
Thomas, stepping up close to the man so none of the now eavesdropping guests
could hear his voice carry. “Your words are on (Y/n)’s arm. You must be her
“I don’t have a soulmate.” Thomas replied almost
mechanically, turning his arm slightly so George could see the blank expanse of
“Well yes,” George conceded. “If (Y/n) is your soulmate you
wouldn’t have words on your arm. She’ll never speak to you… She is mute.”
Summary: Requested by anon: “Gorgeous human, could you write a storyline where Grayson (please with G) and his girlfriend have an argument, not an angry one but a teary filled one and Grayson approaches her as she’s crying and there’s heavy SMUT involved as they make up, it’s not aggressive but very passionate and intense? I just heard the song ‘Too Deep’ by Ritual and Delilah and its got me feeling all kind of things and just need to read something you write based on this song, maybe along the lines of my suggestion? xx” Word Count: 4,008 (longest imagine I’ve written omg) Warnings: Cunnilingus, daddy kink. A/N: So, this is the work that I had gotten halfway through when tumblr crashed. I had to rewrite it so it didn’t come out as good as I expected it to. But I hope I did this justice and I hope you like it. Also, I’m still not very good at smut but I’m gonna practice and get better hopefully. Listen to Too Deep for the full effect!
“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Your friend’s voice sounded through the phone and you stopped yourself from scowling.
How were you supposed to answer that after the large bomb she had dropped on you?
“Yeah.” You answered, voice coming out breathy and quiet. You knew that you weren’t gonna be okay, though, and judging by the small indignant noise that your friend let out on the other end of the receiver, she didn’t buy it either.
“Look, maybe it isn’t what it looks like,” Your friend brought you back from your dark thoughts. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”
The whole bullshit about not knowing what customers are going through can rot in a hole. What about us?
“Your apron is filthy! You need to go home and wash it now!!” She had the most disgusted face. My shift moved me off the floor before I snapped because oh yes ill just go home to the damn tent I was living in at the time. My family got to do laundry once a month. That woman can go Fuck right the hell off god damn it.
“Smile! Its so early, you have a bright day ahead of you!!” :DDDDD
This, at about 6am, just seven hours after all three of my brothers had been crushed between two cars by a drunk driver. My phone was dead, I had no way to get to where my family was staying, I had no idea if my brothers were even alive at this point. And I had to force a smile through tears and a complete and utter deadness on the inside? On no sleep, and working three jobs during that time? Burn in hell.
When I was a customer during those times I was so fucking polite to everyone. Honestly I wasn’t really feeling much of anything but the fact that my god damned life depended on customers being happy with my service? No, not okay. Working customer service during the worst years of my life really fucking damaged me. It’ll damage anyone, really.
I guess I’m just a much bigger bitch now. That’s okay. And my brothers are (mostly) fine. One has a limp, and the other had his legs crushed, and we live in an apartment now, so…
I might make an offhanded comment to a regular about it or someone will hear me talking about it and they’re completely flabbergasted o had been homeless. It always pissed me off. I can not believe people didn’t notice the bags under my eyes, my short temper, the low drawl I had from exhaustion. Yeah, there’s a reason I’m always there, buddy, its cause I literally had no where else to go.
Hey kiddos, if y'all are going through something, keep fighting. Poverty, or illness, disability or shit even just college. Whatever it is. Those customers, and your shitty managers? They can Fuck right off. Please just keep yourselves safe, and know that someone out there is rooting for you
I’m hopeless, I have too much love for Bruce…So I’m writing yet another thing with him. Don’t hate me. Worst, this is kinda long. Besides, sorry for any grammar mistakes, I’m French and have a bad tendency to never proof read anything…
Summary : The reader is quite a bit younger than Bruce, and thinks she’s just yet another one night stand…She’s completely wrong.
Warnings : mentions of sex…slightly NSFW. Langage. Age gap, I guess ?
If a few months ago, someone would have told you you were going to be invited by Bruce Wayne to a charity ball, you probably would have laughed in their face and told them they should check themselves in Arkham Asylum. And yet, here you were, on your fifth dates with the famous womanizer. You always had a thing for older men. Always. And against your better judgement, even knowing his reputation, you let Bruce Wayne come into your life. Worst, you let him shamelessly flirt with you. And you flirted back…In your head, every warning sign was flashing bright red, telling you you were going to get hurt. But you couldn’t help it. The man was smart, funny, handsome, and you were sure there was more to him than the public playboy figure he showed…
In fact, you KNEW there was more to him. Even though you had big confidence issues, you knew you were somewhat intelligent, and you always picked up on small details. You had absolutely no doubt that billionaire Bruce Wayne…Was the Batman. It just all made sense. He had the motive, the money, the physique, He often disappeared and re-appeared out of nowhere…You just knew it was him. That’s actually what convinced you to let him come that close to you. You knew he often had one night stands with models, or any good looking girl really. You knew he clearly didn’t want to get attached at all. But you also knew that behind all of this facade, there was a guy so broken by his parents’ death he decided to dress as a bat at night to fight crime. Like, come on, that alone made you very curious. And, since he kept coming to you, kept inviting you out…Your hopes started to get up, and you scolded yourself for it…But you couldn’t fucking help it.
Summary: A snapshot
into the life of Jung Hoseok and his cat hybrid (aka Y/N)
A/N: Always wanted
to write a Hybrid!au…so, here it is! Also, I got the title from the song by
“You smell weird.”
Hoseok stopped and turned towards you, blinking in surprise.
About an hour ago, you were sitting right next to him with
your head on his lap, eating the strawberries he put in a bowl for you. You
were quiet while watching TV as Hoseok shuffled with papers he had to get
through for his job’s upcoming project. The television was put on mute, so you
were just watching the characters on screen walk around and talk without any
words coming out of their mouths (Hoseok said he could finish his work in the
bedroom so he wouldn’t bother your TV time (he knows you enjoy a certain drama
that comes on at 8) but you decided spending time with him was better than some
drama you could watch again—but you wouldn’t tell him that). You would
occasionally rub your cheek against his leg and he would let his finger run
through your hair, stopping every now and then to put a paper to the side or
rub his knuckles behind your ears.
Everything was quiet. You were quiet the entire time—letting
out a purr every now and then when he scratched that particular spot behind your ears—and it was nice. He enjoyed
the domestic feeling that resonated throughout the apartment, bringing forth a
warm sensation that filled is stomach, making it completely full. Almost like
he had eaten a century’s worth of food.
It felt nice. Being with you was nice, and he wanted to stay
like this forever.
That is until you slowly removed yourself from his lap. He
didn’t pay much mind to it at first, simply allowing you to move so you could
go to the bathroom or get a drink or do whatever it was you needed to do, as
long as you came back into his lap quickly. But, you didn’t walk to the kitchen
or bathroom. He could still feel your presence beside him, staring at him.
Well, it felt more like glaring.
Than you spoke. And it wasn’t sweet like your strawberry
stained fingers. It wasn’t sugar coated. It was blunt and straight to the
point, just like most things you said (but he liked that about you). You just
straight out and said what was on your mind, even if it might’ve been kind of
harsh. You didn’t come right out and say it, but Hoseok knew what you meant.
Hoseok, you stink.
He put his papers down and used his finger to adjust the
glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose before he spoke.
“I…I do?” he stuttered out, sounding confused and a
little offended. You usually enjoyed his scent. Well, at least he thought you
Once his glasses were in place, he could see the way your
eyes bore into his, glaring at him. You sat on your knees with your hands
clinched on your lap, and your tail swayed side to side vigorously.
Were you angry?
You were wearing his oversized white t-shirt (the one that
fell off your shoulder, exposing your smooth skin), and it kind of distracted
him from the situation at the moment. Hoseok loved your skin. It was similar to
silk with how much he wanted to constantly touch it; to feel how soft it is.
You weren’t wearing any pants either. Probably just shorts that were being
covered by the shirt. Or maybe you were only wearing your underwear underneath.
Or…or maybe you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Nothing at all. Just
the thought made a chill run down his spine.
He felt the need to touch you now, but he remembered the
sharp gaze you had on him and he thought maybe now wasn’t the best time for
He really wanted to, though.
Hoseok brought his gaze back to your eyes and, indeed, you
were still glaring at him and your tail was still moving around anxiously. You
must’ve been waiting for a better response than the one he just gave you, but
you broke the silence before he could say anything else.
“Yes. You smell weird,” you said as you shifted your eyes to
the side for a second, only to bring them back to Hoseok’s. “You smell kind of.
Hoseok took his glasses off and put them on the coffee table
before leaning his back against the couch, never breaking eye contact with you.
“Well, what do I smell like?”
The question made you snap your head up at him, looking into
his sleepy eyes, and crawl over to him slowly. You brought your face close to
his, your nose touching his, and you stared at him for a while, admiring his
features, before dropping your head down to nose at his neck. You took a deep
breath, and began running your nose down his neck to his shoulder. You inhaled
and then rubbed your cheek against his shoulder until you’ve had enough and
used your nose to trace your way to the dip in the middle of his neck.
You continued to nose at the exposed skin around his neck
and shoulder, pulling down the strap to his white beater to expose more of him.
Hoseok softly smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist to hoist you onto
his lap. Once you were straddling him, still smelling and scenting him, Hoseok
ran his hands up and down your bare thighs, sighing at the warmth of your skin.
He moved his right hand up to your hips, moving the fabric of the shirt with
him to feel more of you. He kept moving his hand up until his palm was on your
back, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the skin.
He closed his eyes, and enjoyed the moment while it lasted. (You
were wearing the baby blue underwear that had small pink hearts everywhere).
Eventually, you removed your face from his neck with your
nose scrunched up. “You smell fruity. Like some perfume,” you said with a
little sniff. “really strong perfume.”
Hoseok opened his eyes and looked at you. “Really?”
You nodded. God, he’s
“That’s strange. You know I don’t where any cologne usually
or body spray.” He knew you liked his natural scent more than of those
artificial flavors people envelope their body in.
But he wasn’t prepared for what you said to him next.
“Were you with a woman?”
Hoseok’s head snapped up, his eyes looking directly into
yours. You were expressionless. Not upset, not sad, not anything. Your face was
completely blank. If he had to name one thing he didn’t personally care for
about you (which was difficult because he literally loved everything about you), it would have to be this face that he could
never read or decipher. It made understanding you quite difficult; especially
when he first brought you home.
“A woman?” he questioned with a frown. “Y/N, you know I work
with other women at my job. Maybe one of them brushed up against me while they
were walking by or something like that.”
That was a lie. He was with a woman at work. Well, not in that type of context. While assisting an
associate with a bug on her computer, she was leaning pretty close against him,
having her chest a little too close to his shoulders. Once he was able to fix the
problem, she showed her gratitude by running her hand along his bicep with a
flirtatious smirk. He felt extremely uncomfortable and quickly took his leave
before anything escalated. He didn’t think much of the encounter since he
didn’t feel much from it—just discomfort.
You didn’t have anything to worry about, since he only saw
you, but he felt the need to ease your suspicion, so he wrapped his arms around
you more and place his face in the crook of your neck.
“Besides, I don’t have the time or the urge for anyone else.
It’s only you. It’ll always be you.” Now it was Hoseok’s turn to run his nose
along your neck, letting it run along your jawline, knowing it always made you
There was only you, and there would always only be you. Only you-
“I don’t believe you.”
Hoseok’s entire body froze and the hold on your waist
loosen. He removed his face from your neck only to see your catlike eyes
glaring at him once again before removing yourself from his hold and walking
out of the room.
Hoseok sat on the couch for a moment, dumbfounded by your
comment, until he heard the slam of a door making him jump up and shuffle
towards your bedroom door. As soon as he was in front of your door he gave a
slight knock, requesting your permission to enter.
He knocked a second time.
No one answers.
He gives a third knock and, with another no answer, he knows
you were going to be ignoring him for a while. You only did that when you
weren’t in the mood to argue. Ignoring him meant you weren’t angry, but far
from happy as well. He let out a defeated sigh before reaching for the doorknob
and gripping it. Hoseok could easily walk into your room and make you give him
your attention, but he knew that would just be invading your privacy. You never
locked your door. You didn’t, because you never had a reason to. He respected
you. You were of value. His equal. So, if you wanted time to yourself, he would
grant that to you. You didn’t have to lock the door to get away from him
because he would already know what mood you’re in to know what you want. And,
if that so happens to be away from him, then he would make himself give you
some time until you’re ready.
So, Hoseok releases his grip from your doorknob and slowly
walks away from your bedroom door, settling back on the couch to finish his
work; hoping you would feel generous enough to see him before he has to go to
Sometimes you wished Hoseok would just storm into your room,
and make you listen to him. He had every right to ask for an explanation from
you. And you knew there was no reason for you to be upset. It wasn’t that big
of a deal. He comes home smelling of other people most of the time since he
works at an office with like 15 other people. It was understandable that one of
them (even if it was a woman) might bump against him or get close to him.
It’s just…why did it have to be a woman? Why did it have
to be someone with such a strong smell? Why did she have to get so close that
you could smell her all over his body?
Hoseok was too nice for his own good. He always saw the good
in people and didn’t really like confrontation. That’s why whenever you both
did so happen to get into an argument, he would always give you time to calm
down whenever you stormed out. Afterwards, you would come out of your room and
he would be waiting for you, ready to cuddle with you and run his hands along
your tail. The issue is never really solved and it doesn’t get brought up
again. It’s not the best way to resolve a problem, of course, but it worked for
the both of you.
Well, except this time.
You didn’t feel like going back into the room and ignoring
the issue just so he could pet you and rub his hands along your body. Though
that did sound nice, you wanted to let him know that this isn’t going to be
solved with just a few gentle strokes. Hoseok needed to know that…
Hell. You didn’t even know what you wanted him to know,
honestly. You weren’t particular upset about the way he smelled. You just. .
.just wanted him to-
Shit. What the hell is
wrong with me?
You waited about two hours before deciding it was time to
leave your room. You tip toed to your door and leaned your ear against it,
wondering if Hoseok was still around.
You didn’t hear anything, so you quietly opened the door and
peeked your head out. Looking both ways and seeing that the close was clear,
you quietly walked towards the living room. The television was off and the room
was dark. Good. You weren’t really in the mood to talk to him right now. You
made your way to the kitchen and opened the fridge, seeing if there was
anything to snacks on before going back to your room. You settled some more
fruit—blackberries, blueberries, and more strawberries—grabbing a bowl and pour
them in together. You plucked a blackberry out the bowl and started putting the
containers back in the fridge.
Once you were done, all the food back in its place and about
to grab the bowl to head to your room, you felt two strong arms wrap around
your waist and hoisting you into the air. You let out a weak yelp and tried to
get out of the hold, but stopped once you heard a familiar voice.
“I’ve finally got you.” the voice chuckled against your ear
before placing a light peck behind the lobe. You immediately stopped moving and
allowed yourself to be carried bridal style in Hoseok’s arms as he made his way
to the living room. He sat on the couch, placing the bowl of fruit on the
coffee table and wrapping his warm arms around your waist so you won’t try to
(Even though you didn’t plan on leaving.)
You just sigh in frustration and cross your arms over your
chest, looking anywhere but at him.
“Hey,” Hoseok hums, kissing behind your ear again. “Hey,
come one. Look at me, Y/N. Please?”
You didn’t respond. Just kept your attention on the blank
television screen. Your tail swayed side to side, agitated.
Hoseok sighs. “Y/N, come one,” he buries his face into your
neck. “I…I’m sorry. I took a shower for you. Do I still smell like them?”
At that moment, you felt like complete shit. Hoseok
apologized, and he had no right to. It really, really wasn’t his fault, yet you made him feel as if it was. I really don’t deserve him.
Your ears began to flatten at the thought. Slowly, you
turned your body around to straddle him, and buried your face into his neck.
You took a deep, deep breath of his scent, and, the smell flowed through your
nose. His smell. The smell of citrus
and honey, but also the distinct smell of a man. You know, that musky smell.
You couldn’t get enough of it. It was so addicting. Hoseok, he was so addicting. You could stay cooped up
in his arms forever.
But, as you basked in the scent that is Hoseok, you could
still, very faintly, smell the fruit scent of some woman.
“Do I smell any better?” Hoseok broke the silence making you
snap out of your thoughts. You took another whiff before nodding your head.
That made him sigh in relief, pulling you more into his arms. He could place
his hands on your cheeks and lifted your head to meet his so he can place his
forehead on yours. “Good. Do you love me again?”
That made you frown. Love again? What was he talking about?
You’ll always love him. What kind of question is that? Why would he even think
about you not loving him? That’s ridiculous. It should be a crime to ask such a
question like that. Your ears straightened up and your tail began to move
around again. You pressed the palms of your hands on his cheeks as well and
lightly pressed your lips on his. When you pulled back, you could see the soft
smile and happiness that shone in his eyes.
“I never stopped, Hobi.”
Hoseok let out another sigh before burying his face in your
neck, tightening his arms around your waist again. “That’s good. I’m glad,” he
peppered light kisses along your neck and jawline. “So, glad.”
You began running your hands through his hair, burying your
nose in the strands. He washed it, and it smelled like the rose shampoo you
really liked. Your stopped moving your tail and laid it over his knee. You both
stayed like that for a little while, simply basking in each other’s scent.
Hoseok would continue to nudge your neck with his nose and leave random pecks
throughout the skin, while you buried your nose further into his hair and
occasionally rubbing your cheek and forehead against him. There was no sounds
this time. No papers rustling around; just the sound of you and Hoseok
breathing and the deep breaths you both took. It was perfect. He was perfect. You
both were perfect together.
You both finally broke apart once Hoseok yawned against your
(his) t-shirt, causing you to move back to look at him. His eyes were drooping
and he looked exhausted, yet he still managed to keep that lovely smile on his
face just for you.
“You should go to bed, Hobi.” You said as you began removing
yourself from his lap, but Hoseok gripped your waist to make you stay in place.
“No, not yet. Stay with me,” he leaned his back against the
couch, keeping eye contact with you. “Right here.” He gently lifts you and lays
you across his lap, grabbing the bowl of fruit afterwards. He picks up a
blackberry and holds it up against your mouth. You let the blackberry hit your
lips a bit before opening your mouth and eating the fruit from Hoseok’s hand.
He smiles and continues to place more fruit in front of your mouth for you to
“Hobi, you have to go to sleep. You have work in the morning
and I don’t want you to be late or tired when you get up.” You say even though
you’re still eating the fruit he holds in front of you.
“It’s fine. I want to spend more time with you before I go
to sleep.” He response and licks some of the juice on his thumb before grabbing
a strawberry from the bowl.
You pout. “But you’ll be tired in the morning.”
Hoseok chuckles. “But I want to be with you a little more.”
You feel your heart speed up and your tail start to find its
rhythm again. “But you could be late for work and Namjoon will be mad at you!”
“But I love you.”
And that’s it. Those three words cause you to forget how
speak and simply eat the strawberry from his fingers with your face the color
of the fruit. He won this round, I guess.
But, honestly, he somehow wins every round.
(You both eventually fall asleep on the couch, with you
lying on the couch and Hoseok on top of you, resting his head on your chest and
holding your intertwined fingers against his lips.
Hoseok’s alarm goes off at 7am, but neither of you hear it
since its charging in his bedroom, causing you both to wake up at 8am—thirty
minutes before he has to be at the office. You try to get him to hurry, but he
refuses, saying something about, “I don’t feel good!” and “You have to take
care of me today!”
You try to make him leave, but he gives that really annoying
(annoyingly cute) puppy dog face causing you to give in and let Hoseok call
Namjoon about not being able to make it into work today.
From the other line, you could practically hear Namjoon
rolling his eyes as he tells Hoseok to ‘get better’ before hanging up the
(Part 2? Possible series? Let me know what you guys think with likes/comments please! ^^
Life on earth had been a quiet living for you. A husband or children never seemed to be in your cards. You lived your life with a blooming carrier and a group of close friends, telling yourself that was everything you needed. But your heart knew better. Your heart knew the truth. It seeked for something else. For something new.
So the night you were taken didn’t scare you as much as it excited you. The prospect of life on other planets had always been true to you, so there was no surprise displayed on your face when the spaceship emerged above you and beamed you aboard. But the benevolent aliens you hoped to see were nowhere to be found. Instead the shackled you and sold you as a slave.