“You could, uh, wear one of them flowy, flowery dresses I’ve seen you in. They look nice on you,” Harry said and when Sophia looked at him and he couldn’t read her expression he added, “or whatever you’re comfortable in. Not that I’m telling you what to wear I was just-”
“I’ll wear one of them flowy, flowery dresses then,” she nodded, smiled and left Harry in the living room to go and get ready for what surely was not supposed to be a date.
#6 Collarbone kiss (this is so late i’m so sorry.) I wrote it as a prequel to my Prince AU but in Aaron’s kingdom and involving his not so sneaky in love guards ^-^
James Madison struggled with his trousers in his chambers, muttering curses as he tugged at the red fabric. If he didn’t hurry up, they’d leave without him and Theodosia would be without her right hand man. Well, actually Dolley was her right hand…man, but she was sick so he was the next best thing.
Theo always told him he was a great guard, but he knew he wasn’t as imposing or fierce as Dolley was, and that was okay. He was quiet, sneaky, faded into the background. No one ever saw him coming.
Finally, he buckled his pants and grabbed his tailcoat from the bed, untangling the medals which sat on the breast of the coat. He coughed quietly, pulling on the uniform and buttoning it up with near reverence.
The Royal Guard was a serious job, and James took it seriously too. After the death of the King and Queen, the need for his young Prince, now King’s, protection had doubled. There were those who thought that, with such a young ruler, they could easily take over the kingdom.
James Madison was there to bury those thoughts, and the people that thought them.
A quick series of knocks sounded on his door and he looked up, fumbling with the last two buttons of his uniform.
“Come in.” he called, 50% sure of who it was.
The door to the bedroom creaked open and lo and behold, Thomas Jefferson stood in the doorway, uniform neatly buttoned and medals polished to perfection. This wasn’t all too surprising as Jefferson took every opportunity he could to show off.
“What’s taking so long?” he asked, grinning as James struggled with the buttons, “The carriages are waiting and Aaron’s already anxious about this meeting.”
“I know, I know. I just can’t get these damn buttons to-”
Thomas stepped fully into the room, kicking the door shut behind him as he made his way over to James. The shorter man sighed, letting his hand drop to his sides as Thomas leaned down to fix the remaining buttons.
Working with Thomas Jefferson on a daily basis was exhausting. It occurred near daily that Aaron had to pull Thomas away from a fight or order him to step down in the face of a particularly offensive noble. Not that Aaron liked giving orders much at all, but with Jefferson it was the only way to get him to shut up and sit down.
So if working with Jefferson was bad, being in a relationship with him just made James eternally tired. Like right now, for instance. He was supposed to be helping James with his uniform so they could get to the carriages and make a good first impression with the royal family in the Kingdom beside their own.
Instead, Thomas’ hands were moving up James’ shoulders, his thumbs rubbing small circles in his muscles. He stepped closer, a full head taller than James, and ducked his head down, beginning to place small kisses along his neck.
“Thomas, we can’t do this now.” James said, his breath hitching slightly, “The carriages are waiting.”
“Let them wait.” his partner mumbled into his neck.
Now Thomas’ fingers began to undo the buttons he had just finished doing up. James sighed as he moved the coat down over his shoulders, exposing them.
“You’re undoing all my progress.”
“That’s not the only thing I’ll be undoing.” Jefferson grinned, his hands moving down to James’ belt buckle.
“No!” Madison said abruptly, and Thomas stopped, stepping away with his hands up, “Do you know how long it took for me to put on those pants!? The hem kept coming undone, we keep the pants on.”
Thomas huffed, but stepped back up so he was up against James again.
“Fine, but this coat’s got to go.”
“Don’t wrinkle it.”
Jefferson hummed, his lips back on James’ neck, moving down as James gripped his hair, feathering Thomas’ face with kisses of his own.
As much as James complained about his lover, the fact was they loved each other. Sure he’d thought Jefferson had been cocky, arrogant, and egotistical when Aaron had first introduced him to James, and honestly, Thomas was still all of those things.
But James had gotten used to it, after years of Thomas chasing after him like a lovesick puppy, James had finally given him a chance and they’d been together ever since, spending the day protecting their Prince and their nights together in their chambers.
Thomas pressed a gentle kiss to James’ collarbone, nipping slightly, causing James to emit a quiet moan. At this rate they’d never get to the carriages.
Lucky for them, Theodosia chose that moment to burst into the room.
“Jefferson, I thought you were getting oH MY GOD!”
“Theo!” James jumped back and away from Thomas, who only looked slightly perturbed.
“Haven’t you heard of knocking, Bartow?”
“Not when Aaron’s having a panic attack in the carriages while we’re waiting on you two!”
“We’ll be right down.”
“Yeah you better be.” she quirked an eyebrow but said no more, turning on her heel, her long braid whipping out behind her.
The two men listened to the click of her boots on the stone floor as they steadily grew quieter. They looked at each other slowly before erupting into giggles.
“Come on, help me with my coat.”
Thomas pulled the red tailcoat up back over the shorter man’s shoulders, a grin still on his lips as he buttoned it. James couldn’t help the small blush that settled on his cheeks, Jefferson’s strong hands straightening the fabric, letting his hand drift over Madison’s chest lightly.
“There,” he said, “now you look almost presentable.”
“Almost presentable?” James raised an eyebrow.
“Well, not as attractive as me of course,” he leaned over, placing a kiss on James’ lips, “but you’ll do.”
“Right.” Madison laughed, crossing the room to grab his sword from beside the bed, “Cause that’s what I should be worried about right? Using my insanely good looks to woo our trade partners.”
“That’s what I’m planning to do.” Thomas shrugged.
James huffed a laugh, fastening the saber to his belt and walking over to the door. He swung it open, motioning for Thomas to go ahead, which he did, bending into a little curtsy as he passed. James rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him, the two marching down the corridor side by side.
When they stepped outside, they saw the two carriages, black wood ornately carved, and at their fronts, two white horses each. Thomas and James made a B-Line for the first carriage, climbing inside to sit across from Theodosia and a clearly panicking Aaron.
“Finally finished, you two?” Theo asked with a knowing look.
“Shut up.” Thomas waved a dismissive hand but a light blush crossed his face.
“Well while you two were having your little soiree, Aaron here was having a small heart attack.”
“I was not.” the young king bit out, though he did look flushed.
“Don’t worry, your highness.” James assured him, “They have no reason to quarrel with us. I’m sure it’ll go fine.”
“You know I hate it when you call me that.” Aaron grumbled, but a slow smile took over his lips.
The carriage began to move, bumping up and down over the course road as they began their journey to the neighboring kingdom. It wasn’t long before Aaron fell asleep, the lines of worry slowly smoothing out on his forehead.
Theo fell asleep next, her head back against the wood of the carriage, finally falling to the side as they hit a large hole in the road.
James and Thomas fell asleep last, hands intertwined on their laps as James’ head fell gently against Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas laid his head on James’, watching as day turned into night outside. His small lover’s soft snores echoed in the carriage, filling Thomas’ ears rhythmically.
The carriage driver would wake them when they got there, he thought, his eyes slowly closing.
A/N: here’s Bartholomew’s date as friend helped me decide
what he’d do on his date which might seem like a no brainer considering he’s a
cute nerd. I relate to the picture so much. Does anyone have ideas of where Barry may take you for his date?
Feel free to give me ideas! The dates will have more text than the other
drabbles so I’m sorry for that! I wanted to write more. So it will be under read more! And as always requests and ships
are open unless stated otherwise by me. Haven’t read Part 1 yet? Click here to read it! ( x ).
» Relationships: Bartholomew [Earth-2! Barry] Allen & Reader (crush) «
You gave a smile at Bartholomew whose gaze met yours with a
small bouquet of flowers that were favorite, the spectacle wearing male shook
his head back to reality when you said his name. “Oh! U-Uh these are for you.
I-I hope you like them Y/N, I made sure to get your favorite.” He stumbled his
words while you took the flowers from him, “Thank you Bartholomew. That’s so
sweet of you, I’ll go put them in a vase. Feel free to step in so you aren’t
just standing there all awkward.” You went to put the flowers away as the
burnet stepped in and closed the door behind him. Boy he was nervous around you
and his bowtie felt like it was strangling him today as he fiddled with it.
Yoongi isn’t much into clubbing, and to tell the truth, he never has been. Sure, he goes to clubs, but that doesn’t mean it has to be something he particularly likes.
If he had to have any reason as to why he then goes clubbing, he’d have to say it’s the cause of his best friend, because whether he wants to admit it or not, Hoseok is right in calling him a lethargic old man even at the best of times; if permitted, Yoongi could spend his whole life in one spot and be perfectly happy not moving. End of.
This is true, for the most part, as Hoseok found out no later than the first week after moving in with his new roommate. Yoongi would prepare all his snacks in advance, and then he’d root himself along the couch, where he would proceed to drift between dreaming and waking for however long he felt necessary. Practically dead, in Hoseok’s eyes.
It was because of this fact that Yoongi found himself suddenly being dragged left, right, and center with the younger male. Let’s go to the market, he would say, I hear they’re selling some pretty cool stuff - you might like it, and Yoongi, attached to the sofa already, would make a noise protesting the idea. Noises, however, turned out to be a terrible way to protest, because less than a half hour later, he’d find himself stuffed into the passenger seat of Hoseok’s car, on his way to some dumb, cold marketplace. It did suck at first, being dragged unwillingly to accompany Hoseok on his grand ventures, but it wasn’t so bad after a while, and in the end he just quit the whole protesting thing. Hoseok wasn’t giving up on bringing Yoongi into his exciting world, and Yoongi grew more willing to let him try with each passing day.
However, the clubbing thing isn’t entirely like that. Yoongi has been willingly getting up and looking the part for these trips, simply because he realised that Hoseok, after the end of his last term, had seemed less like himself, and had started going to a lot of clubs. He did before, sure, the odd couple every so often, but now it’s getting ridiculous. He goes out at least three or four times a week, and gets skittish when he’s not out. Yoongi has yet to confront his friend as to whether it’s term-end grades putting him down, or if it’s something else. Either way, he likes Hoseok, hell, he cares about the erratic dickhead, so much so that he follows him to clubs, just to take care of him. Which would be easier if Yoongi knew what was actually wrong, that is, because even though he always leaves the clubs with a glow around him, Yoongi is helpless and worried.
Okay, Yoongi doesn’t hate clubs all that much, he can tolerate them, has fun for a good hour or so, but any longer than that and he’s bored is all. He’d rather go home and browse the web. Or sleep. However, his wish to look after his friend keeps him awake until some stupid hours in the early mornings - whether he has lectures or not - and thus he misses out on all those hours he could be having real fun; sleeping.
“This seat taken?” Someone asks, and Yoongi sighs, as audibly as possible, because honestly, he wants to be left alone until Hoseok comes to say he’s tired and ready to go home.
However, upon turning his head to gaze upon some kind of ethereal beauty chiselled by the gods themselves, he decides that responding isn’t the worst - or hardest - thing to do.
“No. Knock yourself out.” He waves his hand through the air and watches the ginger slink down the steps, careful not to let his eyes linger on those damn jeans for too long.
“I would, but I don’t drink.” He places himself down beside Yoongi - on the bottom step leading to the door of the pretty much abandoned fire escape- where Yoongi had been leant against the wall to feel the ever-so-pleasing ripples from the bass for the past hour and a half.
“Then why are you here?” Yoongi asks, voice accidentally appearing more irate than he wishes it to sound. It’s a habit, and although most people don’t mind, it really ruins ’the mood.’
The ginger shrugs. “I was up on the dancefloor a minute ago,“ He carelessly gestures to the crowd above the stairs, delicate arm coming to rest on the step beside it. “And dancing with some fun guys and girls, but I caught something in the corner of my eye, and I was interested in finding out more about it.” He leans against the palm of his hand, nestling his elbow on the step. “So, aren’t you going to ask for my name?”
“Huh? Oh.” Yoongi can’t help but let out a small laugh. Been a while since someone was so forward with him, he feels a little out of practice. “And what should I call someone as pretty as you?”
“Jimin will do just fine.” He leans forward a little, and Yoongi can smell a light cologne from his direction, subtle and inviting. “And what name does someone like you own?”
“Jimin.” He smirks, and it takes a moment for him to understand, but when he does, the ginger laughs and leans back against the wall.
“Damn, that was sly.”
“That’s not even my best.” He grins, leaning against his own wall. “I’m Yoongi.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Jimin smiles and runs a hand through his hair, so Yoongi lets his eyes wander over the slim frame. His outfit is almost fit exactly to Yoongi’s tastes. For a start, he’s always liked chokers. Not in that way, per se, but aesthetically it’s always been a plus- not to mention that, on the right person, or rather the right neck, a choker can fit all too well. Plus, the top he’s wearing is barely hanging onto his shoulders, exposing those porcelain collar bones, which doesn’t make things any easier for Yoongi. At all. In fact, that makes it worse.
He turns his eyes back up and into Jimin’s, and is surprised to find him looking slightly disappointed. “Something wrong?” He raises a brow, unsure as to whether he’d messed up somehow, or if it’s just the shitty lighting skewing his pretty face.
“Well, I’m a little offended; you only checked me out up top.” He gives Yoongi a playful pout. “Something wrong with these?” He teases, turning sideways on the step and kicking one leg out, planting his shoe against the wall, right beside Yoongi’s head. Flexible, Yoongi thinks to himself, I can work with that .
“Absolutely not.” He would definitely take this guy home, if Hoseok wasn’t living with him. He’s not into the idea of Hoseok teasing him for the rest of his life just because he, an adult, brings someone over for a night. “I already saw enough when you were walking down here.”
“But did you really see enough?” He smiles again, showing the top row of his teeth this time. “Well, I’m not going anywhere, you can look all you like.” Jimin’s offer is almost too much this time; and Yoongi almost feels embarrassed. Almost.
“Christ, you drive a hard bargain.” He rests a hand on one of Jimin’s legs, but it lacks intention, and Jimin doesn’t bother to pay attention to it for exactly that matter.
“Well, I can make a lot of things hard.” Jimin folds his arms and relaxes his shoulders, hunching against the wall.
“No kidding.” His fingers idly drum against Jimin’s thigh, matching the beat of the music. Music has always been Yoongi’s comfort zone; if music ever could be seen in such a way, and Jimin happily settles into his silence, enjoying the minute or so as it passes.
After the silence does pass, Jimin starts to speak. “You know, I’m not doing anything tonight. Do you want to–” But he’s cut short when a certain someone calls Yoongi’s name, and the ginger hides his annoyance by raising a questioning brow.
“Just a second.” Yoongi grumbles. Of all the times that Hoseok has been an ass, this is the worst one by far. Even so, he raises his hand to move Jimin’s leg out of the way. “It’s my roommate, can I please go?”
“On one condition.” Jimin keeps his leg where it is, because even though Yoongi has taken hold of it, he isn’t trying all that hard to move anything.
“Shoot.” Yoongi meets his eyes again, and the smirk that follows makes it even harder to leave. Not that he really even wants to.
“I’ll wait here for ten minutes. If you don’t come back, I’ll take the hint and find someone less interesting to take home,” Then he leans forward, showcasing more of his damned flexibility. “But if you do come back, I promise you won’t forget what happens tonight for as long as you live.”
“Deal.” It doesn’t take Yoongi long to agree, and Jimin, lips pulled into a smirk, finally removes his leg from the wall, allowing Yoongi to go find his friend.
Only in good sport, however, because before he even gets to Hoseok, before he stood up and left the stairwell - heck, before Jimin’s leg lifted away to let him leave - his mind was already made up.
And he’s not about to waste those extra ten minutes.
30 years from now, youre in your kitchen making tonights dinner, the kids are upstairs online and youre humming along to your favourite song. everything is peaceful. you find yourself too lost in the music, stirring the ingredients along to the rhythm, to even hear the faint padding of footsteps or the kitchen door opening. “mom?” you jump slightly at the sound of your daughters voice but smile warmly as you reply "yes sweet heart?“.
“you know that band you told me you used to love? the one with the ninja and curly haired guy?”. you nod, a nostalgic smile spreads across your face. “yes! nsp! what about them?” youre excited now, youd only briefly mentioned them before, but the thought of one of your children loving them as much as you did makes your heart jump with pure joy. you continue stirring and wait for any questions about them your daughter may have, god you hope she likes them.
“well, uh, i looked them up and…” and? you find yourself more happy about this than you probably should be “… uh, do you know what an amv is?” you freeze, almost dropping the spoon you were using in the process. your mind goes blank, your heart starts racing and your palms are now clammy, memories of that night you had long since forgotton come flooding back to you, the music… the art… the mpreg. your throat tightens as every image seems to flash before your eyes, your stomach drops
you can barely get any words out, youre still shaken, but you manage a faint “h-honey.. where did you learn that word?”
you act as if i won’t show my children that video from the moment they are old enough to comprehend it
Carino paused, his ears flattening against his head. "I uh- Sorry. Continue on... By th' way. Th' camera's on table. But I'm sure y'all won't need it. And uh.. Jasper... I hope you like bein' with them since I don't forgive cheaters an' think they're worthless pieces a' shit.", he hissed. Suddenly he shot a long metal pole at them but stopped it right before his face, eyes a silver color. "'M so close to killin' ya... But 'm not gonna. Let ya live with that.", he said before leaving silently.
Jasper looked at Carino as he walked in, his heart pounded in his chest when the metal pole was right in face. Watching Carino leave he quickly put on his pants and chased after him. “Carino! I’m not cheating I was rehearsing the role, do you really think I would cheat on you?” He followed, reaching to grab his arm to make him stop.