Words: 1383

Pairing: some very slight Thomas Jefferson x Reader

World: Modern/College AU

Warning: cursing, mentions of furry porn, seductive turtle, Theatre Kid! Alexander, vague to no plotline: just actual stupidity w some romance if you squint

Prompt: Inspired by real chats and true events. One of my greatest friends seriously makes me think of a modern day Alexander Hamilton… Also, he’s a gold mine of hilarious fuck ups and I’m glad I’m there to witness it.



MacNCheezy: Hey, doll

You: Yes, T?

MacNCheezy: You wanna make $10?

You: I’m not selling drugs for you, Thomas.

MacNCheezy is typing…

Pulling your [h/l] [h/c] hair into a low ponytail, you laughed as the chat window informed you that Thomas was writing and rewriting his response. It was amusing to see him flustered, even if you couldn’t actually see him. The thought of his indignant huffing and puffing was enough to brighten the already shitty day you’ve just had.

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anonymous asked:

Jikook abo where omega Jimin is worried that his adorable dongsaeng will present as an omega (because of how sweet he is with him) but Jungkook ends up presenting as an alpha and they get to be together - is this really an au??angst with happy end

Uhh…. oops, Jungkook turned out a little less adorable than expected. Thank you for being patient!   ♡

When Jungkook hit eighteen, Jimin panicked. There hasn’t been a word of any Alphas presenting past the age of eighteen—if Jungkook was going to be an Alpha, it should have hit him already. So Jimin’s holding his breath, waiting for that inevitable day, for Jungkook to come knocking on his door, red-faced and smelling of omega sweetness.

They all gambled on it—Jungkook was definitely going to present as an omega now. Jungkook’s not an in-betweener, he’s always on either side of the spectrum, either black or white, never gray. Presenting as a beta would be too, too common and Jungkook is not common. Not at all.

Jimin knew it too. Jungkook is tooth-rottingly sweet, all bunny smiles and big round eyes and a kind, soft heart that is innate in every single omega. An Alpha would snatch him up in a heartbeat. And Jimin, poor omega Jimin, would be left in the dust because that’s the way it works in the world. There hasn’t been a single situation in which an omega has ended up with another omega. Alpha-Alpha pairs happened sometimes, it was rare, but it’s happened. But an omega with another omega was unheard of. It was impossible. Something in the omega biology just switched off the pheromones like a light switch, made it so that omegas would never, ever be attracted to each other.

So Jimin’s just waiting. Jungkook will present as an omega and they’ll be on the same poles of a magnet, so alike but always repelling, never meant to be together. He’s played with these magnets when he was younger, childishly thinking that his strength could trump the magnetic poles, forearms straining, forcing the like ends together—but they never touched. Jimin can’t stand it. It makes something in his chest burn, the idea that fate could be so cruel is just so gut-wrenchingly painful that he doesn’t even want to face the world. He spends all day in bed now, just buried under the covers, waiting for the knock on the door that would change everything.

A few weeks after Jungkook’s eighteenth birthday, Jimin goes into heat. It’s never happened before—he’s always taken his pills like a good omega, knew a heat would distract Namjoon-hyung to no end and Jimin definitely doesn’t want to be on the end of Seokjin’s wrath, thanks. But it happens when Jimin is too depressed to pull himself out of his bed, forgets to take his suppressants for weeks on end until the heat finally hits. When it does, Jimin is strung out of his mind and is clawing off the cotton T-shirt that’s sticking way too closely to his sweaty skin. He frantically unbuckles his pants, ready to lock himself in his room and deal with this himself, fuck the universe for making Namjoon the only goddamn Alpha in his dorm.

When his jeans are around his ankles, there’s a knock on his door and Jimin curses because this could not come at a better time.

“What?” he barks, swinging the door all the way back in a quarter arc, and Jungkook’s standing right in front of him, jaw dropped like a ventriloquist dummy, eyes big and wide and struck with panic. His cheeks pinken as his gaze drops down the length of Jimin’s body before snapping back up out of embarrassment.

“I, uh—”

The pingponging Jungkook’s eyes are doing makes Jimin awkward and embarrassed, should have put some damn pants on before he answered the door, jesus christ Jimin.

“What do you need?” Jimin says, softer, almost apologetic. He self-consciously curls an arm in front of his midsection, face hot and turned away from Jungkook’s gaze.

“I… gotta go,” Jungkook mumbles, disappearing before Jimin could even blink, hastily slamming his bedroom door behind him.

Jimin’s heart drops to his stomach because in a moment of clarity, he realizes that was it. That was the knock he was waiting for. He’s heard of it happening—one omega’s heat affecting another omega’s hormones. His own heat triggered Jungkook’s own latent omega hormones, he’s sure of it, fuck fuck fuck he can’t believe his body would betray him like this.

The painful dread sinks into his gut and the frenzied, sex-crazed rush of his heat dampens. When the haze finally dissipates, Jimin is lucid and feeling really, really stupid for just standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but boxers and mismatched socks.

He just wants to crawl back into bed again and sleep off his heat.

But then there’s another knock on his door.

Jimin has enough sense to put his pants back on before he opens it. It’s Jungkook again, fidgety nervous Jungkook who shifts his weight from side to side, looking just as flighty as Jimin’s imagined in the many scenarios he’s played in his head. Jimin can do this. He can be the good hyung who shows Jungkook the ropes.

“I think I just-” Jungkook stops himself and his face twists. When Jimin flits his eyes down, Jungkook’s hands are in fists, knuckles white and straining against his skin. “I just presented,” Jungkook says, voice tight.

The bile rises in his throat.

“Just- just take some of my suppressants now. Before your heat kicks in. And then I’ll go with you to the doctors’ tomorrow.”


“It’s fine,” Jimin says, turning back to his room and rummaging through his bedside drawer for the half-full bottle of suppressants. “Not a big deal,” he continues, “presenting as an omega isn’t the worst thing in the world.” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his words but it doesn’t sound that believable.

“Hyung, that’s not—” Jungkook tries again, only to be interrupted by the rattle of pills when Jimin throws an orange prescription bottle his way.

“This will help,” Jimin says. He feels agitated and he doesn’t know why. Jungkook just needs to leave so he can sleep. He never should have answered that door.

“Hyung,” he tries again. “Jiminnie-hyung.”

Jimin only pays attention when the door bangs shut and Jungkook’s standing there with his body all tensed, hands still clenched in fists around the prescription bottle like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“Do you not smell it?” Jungkook says slowly, as though Jimin’s some scared, wounded animal he’s approaching.

Jimin responds without thinking, “smell what?,” mouth reacting before his brain notices. But suddenly, through the gloom, there’s a moment of clarity. It’s Jungkook’s smell, definitely, but it’s different. It’s heavier, muskier, and not like any omega smell at all.

“Oh my god, you—” Jimin’s heart picks up, “you’re—”

“—not an omega,” Jungkook finishes.

At that point, his face is warm again, his omega body coherent and responding to the presence of an alpha in his room.

“This is honestly the worst time to tell me that,” Jimin says, the heat back with a vengeance, warmth flaring in his gut. The shiny doe eyes that Jimin’s so accustomed to contorts, switches into something much darker. Jungkook stares at him, intense. How the hell did he think Jungkook could possibly be an omega?

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, voice low. He moves through the room, smooth and languid, stepping closer and closer until the smell of him makes Jimin’s mouth dry. “Teach me,” he says. “About omegas.”

The next knock on the door is because of a noise complaint.


30 day comic challenge | favorite supporting character

Alfred Pennyworth

I watched him smile. I watched him cry. I watched him grow. I watched him bleed. I did my best. I want you both to know that. But I failed him… and in the process failed you. And though it may not provide your spirits with any solace, I want you to know that I grieve as a parent… for he was my son, too.”

You Look Like Hell

Prompt: ‘You look like hell’

Given by inorangeink

It’s taken me over a month to do this because I suck. There is literally no other reason for my tardiness other than the extent of my sucking.

“You look like hell.”

That was the first thing James heard when he came to, lying in the too hard bed with the too lumpy pillow under his still throbbing head. His face felt sore and there was a stiffness in his shoulder that seemed to stem from another source other than that of a bad sleeping position. He wasn’t even sure if he was sleeping. After all, despite the muddled flashes of memories that floated through his brain of what actually brought him here, he highly doubted that he would come on his own accord to sleep on an uncomfortable bed when there was a very warm and soft four poster waiting for him up in his dormitory.

James groaned as he propped himself up with his forearms. “I feel as though I was run over by a herd of bloody Hippogriffs.” He patted around blindly for his glasses. When he failed to locate them, he huffed impatiently and asked, “What happened? And where the hell are my glasses?”

“You don’t remember?” he could hear the slight frown in her voice as she spoke. There was a muffled ‘fwump’ as something landed on his bed. His hand slowly crept towards it before snatching his glasses up and shoving them on. Finally, the world came into focus. No longer was Lily a smudge of red against the white partition in the Hospital Wing, but a clear and defined figure with a face and everything. He could even see that she was still wearing her red and gold Gryffindor scarf.

Well actually, his red and gold Gryffindor scarf.

The one he gave her before the match this morning in a pre match good luck snog session.

Right! Quidditch! Before everything went fuzzy, he remembered flying up in the air on his broom. The quaffle was tucked tightly under his arm as he yelled something to… was it Davison? Bugger it. Names weren’t exactly important at the moment.

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