i found this on ebay and i though oh this is so cool

New Yorker Min Yoongi

◦ pairing: reader x yoongi

◦ rating: pg

◦ word count: 1.2k

◦ requestCan you make a Fluff with Yoongi, i don’t know what kind of fluff story but anything because i’m feeling for lovely yoongi this month. 

◦ a/n: Yoongi’s V Live got me emo. He just wants to wander SoHo with a coffee in hand 😫 LET HIM LIVE. Anyway, maybe he didn’t get to when he was in NY this time, but if there’s anything I can do, it’s this. (It just so happened to fill an earlier request I got, so two birds in one stone!!)

R E Q U E S T || M A S T E R L I S T


The smell of rain stuck to the damp cobblestone ground as you practically dragged your boyfriend behind you. He hid under the brim of his hat, looking down as he worried about who might see him. “Jagi…” he started, his voice was raspy and worn from the night before. All the growling and rapping two nights in a row plus all the travelling and lack of sleep prior had really taken a toll on his voice.

“Babe, can you just open your eyes for a second,” you huffed impatiently. You had gone through all the trouble of sneaking him out of the hotel and you weren’t even sure if he even looked up from the ground yet. You knew New York might not be everyone’s cup of tea, especially for a Daegu boy, but you knew that Yoongi had wanted to see SoHo and you had at least hoped that this would pry him out of his ball cap. “I know it’s no Seoul, but this is my home! It’s where I live and where I have fun. Can you just be here with me for a minute?”

Yoongi locked his eyes with you. “That’s not it at all. I love being here with you, you know that.” He took his hat off and looked around cautiously before readjusting it on his head. You knew he was right. It wasn’t every day that he was the one in your city. It was usually you who went to him, but with the tour stopping in Newark, you were swimming in the bliss of having him right beside you in public. “We just have to be careful is all,” he shrugged, but finally looking up from the ground, you could see the smile play at the corners of his lips. He squeezed your hand in his, and with the same lips that he heeded caution about being seen, he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi I love your work. Could you please write something with wolfstar where one of them gets into others car/motorcycle and just screams "drive fucking drive" and that's how they meet.

OKAY. this might turn in to a fic because I’m really loving the set up. Here ya go!


Sirius was not usually one to loose his cool. He was always - usually - very, very cool. He could throw up a smile in a heartbeat and be making small talk in a second. He could be cornered one moment and be walking away and whistling the next. Cool. Calm. Collected.

He was not, however, usually one to run. Instead he could - usually - talk his way out, charm his way out. Hell, if it came down to it, fuck his way out of a potentially sticky situation. As the young, rebellious heir to the Black household, it was in his job description.

And yet, despite all this, he found his feet sliding across wet pavement, hair sticking to his forehead in the pouring rain, arms flailing slightly to keep his balance. He could still hear the yells of his cousin and her… crew behind him. She was shrieking something - as usual - while her friends egged her on.

Sirius wasn’t one to run but it had been seven against one - he wasn’t stupid either.

Everything seemed blurred in the rain, like the object was moving at normal speed but its colors, its essence, was just a few seconds behind, dragging along like a comet’s tail. Sirius tried to shield his eyes but it was almost no use.

C’mon Siri-Wiri.” Bella’s voice seemed much closer now. He heard her hissing laughter, “Can’t run from us. We just want to play.”

Sirius stopped dead, nearly tripping over the side of the curb and into oncoming traffic. He flinched at a loud beep that sounded from the car to his right. He looked up, slightly frantic, and could just make out the driver. Sirius had the strangest thought that he looked just like his car. His features were blurred out by the rain, but his sweater was the same musty brown color. It probably had holes to match the paint chips. He was pissed, waving his hands in an angry way that clearly said back the fuck up.

“Siiiriius.” Bella sing-songed from behind him - closer now. Too close.

He looked behind him then back at the car, hair whipping and sticking to his cheeks. He looked back again, and could just make out their outlines. His heart lurched.

“Fuck it.”

He scrambled, fingers hooking over the rusty metal of the door handle and pulled, sliding into a cracked, warm leather seat and shutting the rain out behind him.

“I- Excuse you.” Came a voice from his left.

Sirius kept his nose pressed to the window. He could see them now.

“Mate, I don’t know what the fuck you think-“

“Just drive!” Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, sinking low and pressing himself into the seat.

What?”

Sirius groaned, “I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you anything you want but please, just drive.”

There were a few honks from behind them, most likely the light had turned green, and Sirius felt the engine stutter. The driver cursed as he shoved the car into gear, and he felt them lurch forward.

Sirius stayed low in his seat, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth, trying to calm his heart. There was something strangely comforting about the way the car smelled. Like old leather, wet wool, and cinnamon- real cinnamon, not freshener kind.

After they were probably a good five minutes away, Sirius heard a throat clear, “I- um. You can probably open your eyes now. We’ve gone.”

Only then did Sirius let his eyes drift open. His first thought was that the car looked just as it smelled, light and dark browns, old. He noticed one of the headlights was out.

He let out a huff of air, sitting up slowly and glancing to his left, “Right. Sor-“

And, sure, the car was nice in it’s own way, but the driver. Good lord, maybe Sirius would have to thank Bellatrix next time he saw her.

Because the boy next to him was… warm. Really, everything about him. His Teddy Bear brown sweater, his amber eyes that kept flitting to and from him nervously, his sandy hair that fluffed up slightly in the heat blowing from the dash board. He was everything Sirius was not. And Sirius loved it instantly.

“sorry…” he finished quietly, “My cousins, they’re-“

“You don’t have to explain.” The boy glanced at Sirius, offering a soft smile, then kept his eyes to the road, “I know who you are. I recognize your sweater.”

Sirius glanced down to his soaked attire and sighed. Sure enough, there was the oh so beloved Black Family crest.

“You’re from the Black Family. Always in the papers.”

Sirius hesitated. He almost wanted to say no. He wanted to say that he had gotten it off Ebay and simply liked the color. But, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to this boy.

“Yes.” He reached out, fiddling with an air vent, “Unfortunately.”

Amber-eyes took a turn, his sweater riding up to reveal lovely, slim wrists and long fingers. Sirius instantly wanted to reach out and take them into his own. They were slightly pink, like they had been cold for a long time and were only now beginning to warm up.

“Which one?”

Sirius blinked at his profile, “What?”

The boy smiled a little, “Son? Nephew? Step-dad?”

Sirius spluttered, “I do not look like a step-dad.”

The boy laughed, “I’m just trying to guess here. You lot marry pretty young, for all I know you could be…”

Sirius laughed at this. It was nice being around someone who acted as though the Black Family ways weren’t utterly ridiculous, “Son. I’m a son.” Then he added hastily, “Sirius.”

The car gave another little lurch as the boy shifted gears, “Remus.”

“Remus.” Sirius repeated softly, then realizing he’d said it aloud, cleared his throat, “Well, thanks. Not many people would hit the petal when a stranger just got into their car and screamed at them.”

“Not to mention nearly made me hit them.” Remus shot him a pointed look.

Sirius laughed, “Right. Right, well, that too.”

They lapsed into soft silence for a few miles until Sirius realized that they were on the winding road up to the back entrance of the Black Manor. It’s official title was castle, but Sirius always felt a bit ridiculous saying that. It wasn’t as if they were kings and queens… although it certainly felt that way sometimes.

“Oh. You know where I live.”

“Well, it is where I live, too so… that would make sense.”

Remus laughed at Sirius’ expression, the tires crunching over the gravel of the servant’s parking lot as he pulled the car into park, killing the engine. He turned to face him, and Sirius got a full view of his face for the first time. and oh. Freckles. “I work in the kitchens.”

“I…” Sirius suddenly felt horribly embarrassed. His posh accent felt all too proper and his sweater felt too stiff and he just wanted to stay in the warm, beat up car with this warm boy for the rest of his life, “I. Um.”

Remus shook his head, his hair flopping softly over his forehead, “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t expect you to know me. We’re not suppose to be seen, after all.”

Sirius was at a loss for words at exactly how Remus was still giving him that soft smile.

“Remus- I-“ He shook his head, “My mother is horrible to you lot.”

Remus looked taken aback this time, “Oh. Well- I-“ He licked his lips, “Yes.” He finally settled upon, “Yeah, a bit.”

Then Remus smiled again, “S’not your fault though, is it?”

Sirius shook his head, but guilt pooled in his stomach.

The rain had gotten considerably lighter as they trudged their way up towards the castle. Sirius couldn’t help noticing how even Remus’ coat - if you could even call it that - seemed to be about to fall apart. Sirius suddenly thought shamefully about his own thick, spotless wool one, abandoned at the bar.

“S’weird, innit? That I’ve never met you. I mean, you look about my age.”

Remus just nodded, humming in agreement a little.

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, “What’re you doing working in a kitchen? What about university?”

Remus sent him a fleeting, slightly sad smile, “Not all of us are born into castles, Sirius.”

Sirius was vaguely aware of just how nice his name - a name he’d never been too fond of - sounds while coming out of Remus’ mouth.

“Oh. Right. No, I mean- I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine.” Remus said simply.

They watched their feet as they walked, Sirius feeling more embarrassed by the second, until Remus suddenly stopped at a door Sirius hadn’t seen before.

“This is me.”

“Oh.” Sirius straightened up. He had a sudden vision of himself dropping Remus off at this very door, as if after a date. He shook it out of his head, “Right. Well, thanks again.”

And then he jumped, suddenly remembered his earlier promise and shoved his hands into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, “Here-“

Jesus, Sirius. No!”

Sirius looked up from leaving through the bills and felt his stomach drop. Because Remus wasn’t looking at him. He was looking to the side, lip between his teeth. He looked ashamed, “I don’t want your money, Sirius. It’s just a favor. Those do exist without cash being exchanged.”

Sirius swallowed hard, “Sorry. I know that. Sorry.”

Remus just heaved a sigh and nodded, like he was shaking it off. He rocked back on his heels and turned to Sirius once more, “Do they often chase you like that?”

“No. Well, yes.” Sirius shrugged, trying to discretely put his wallet away, “They don’t usually mean any real harm but… but still. I don’t-“ He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck, “I don’t particularly like what they have to say. It’s complicated.”

Remus nodded and turned to open his door, “Well, goodnight, Sirius.”

“Yeah… I- Maybe we can do something. Hang out. Go somewhere. Hang out.” Sirius winced at the same time Remus did and they both laughed - Sirius was so relieved to see Remus laugh with him.

good, so you haven’t royally fucked this up yet.

“You know that isn’t allowed.”

Yes, Sirius knew. He just wasn’t sure he cared.

Remus sent him another soft smile, “I’m in charge of the eggs tomorrow. You can think of me then.”

Sirius let out a little relieved laugh. So, it wasn’t completely over. “Right. Eggs. Got it…”

Remus’ face was half visible through his closing door, “Goodnight.”

And Sirius stood there for another few moments, suddenly wishing he had savored that last smile a little more.

“Goodnight…”

the garage sale au

a collab with @gravelyhumerus

  • the shaws are having a yard sale to clear out a bunch of old junk
  • some of their clientele include: 
  • a lady in a weed leaf-patterned dress. doesn’t speak english. buys all of papa shaw’s old CDs
  • a tiny old white lady who buys an old bong and calls it a vase. shaw doesn’t correct her
  • five different women in big hats who pat shaw on the back, calling her a good salesperson. they don’t notice her physical discomfort, nor do they buy anything
  • a man drops and shatters three tea cups, then walks away like he didn’t do anythingthere are people in their cars waiting for shaw to set up at 7am. shaw doesn’t know why the hell they’re up so early by /choice/
  • some lady asks shaw if the giant old lady bras (her late grandmother’s) are lingerie for her boyfriend
  • john very solemnly tells her yes, they are
  • root lives across the street and has a Big Gay Crush on a certain shaw comma sameen
  • shaw and john are close friends, and root doesn’t talk to anyone at school so she doesnt know that he’s really fucking gay so she thinks he’s flirting with shaw
  • he’s there helping out with the yard sale and root shows up to give him a run for his money
  • she’s too busy tripping over herself and buying all of shaw’s stuff to notice john’s bf harold is there, literally holding his hand
  • she doesn’t even look at what she’s buying, just scoops up an armful of trinkets and drops them on the table in front of shaw
  • “you’re really interested in all this crap?” shaw scoffs
  • “i am………..a hoarder”
  • she had a really smooth pickup line she’d spent hours working on (i see one thing im interested in) but it’s much easier to deliver the line to her shampoo bottle in the shower than it is to sameen shaw’s actual face so she panics and here we are
  • shaw shrugs. it’s hardly the strangest thing root’s ever told her
  • root ends up having to have her own yard sale a week later to get rid of all the stuff she bought from shaw
  • shaw stops by and she’s like wAIT a second
  • “hang on, you’re you making money off my garbage? i had this priced at fifty cents" 
  • "y’know, you really should have a better sense of market values. it’s going for $14.99 on ebay”
  • “it’s an old dog toy”
  • “an old dog toy that’s going for $14.99 on ebay”
  • a couple days later they bump into each other aGAIN and this time root is wearing shaw’s sweater and shaw is like oh shit she looks good in my shit what the hell red alert 
  • only it’s like a really tacky ugly sweater shaw hated bc it made her look shapeless, but on root’s lanky-ass frame it’s very cute and artsy
  • the asshole
  • back to the shaws’ yard sale though! fusco shows up to buy a rusty lamp with no bulb or shade. it belonged to shaw’s great grandmother. when questioned about his intentions for said partial lamp, fusco just shrugs
  • “ya never know. ‘s good to be prepared”
  • harper’s the one who shows up wanting to know the background of each item and shaw’s like "we found it in a drawer who cares”
  • (harper’s really just there to find cool stories and flirt with carter and shaw and root and dani)
  • zoe is the one that pulls up in her car just to give her pal shaw the thumbs up
  • shaw’s like “if you really cared you’d buy something” and zoe just laughs and yells back “if i wanted garbage i’d get it at the dump for free” and drives away
  • carter buys a necklace to support shaw
  • she sells it for a buck and carter looks at it online, sells it for a hundred
  • root wasn’t lying, it’s all about the market
  • john already bought shaw’s old video games, which he cherishes for the childhood nostalgia factor
  • their entire friendship was initially based on crash bandicoot
  • finch and john catch leon pocketing some shit. it’s literally worthless but shaw still punches him just on principle
  • she lets him keep it after that though
  • dani’s the one who spends the whole time playing with bear and doesn’t buy anything or talk to anyone
  • martine shows up with lambert and shaw/john/finch are immediately like “we’re closed”
  • “seriously, shaw? i can see all your stuff–”
  • “say, finch, what time do we close?”
  • “i believe we just did, sameen”
  • martine crosses her arms. “it’s only 9am”
  • “all sold out” john saya
  • jeremy gestures to the rest of the driveway, filled with people and clearly not sold out merchandise. “i can see the tables”
  • shaw finch and john just stare them down
  • literally the second they turn around to leave john calls his baseball teammate michael cole over to check some stuff out
  • shaw’s selling a absurd amount of knives because she needs to clear out space for MORE KNIVES
  • she makes sure to loudly say so as laskey, carter’s lab partner in a&p, walks by with his older brother simmons
  • they’re both Notorious Pricks
  • after a few hours shaw’s mom brings everyone lemonade and iced tea and gives shaw a one-armed hug
  • shaw’s like “mamaaaaaann c'mon, my friends are here”
  • and john’s like “yEA we are can i have a hug???”
  • they all get hugs, and harold gets a kiss on the head
  • sweet boy
  • mama shaw brings out some treats for bear too so dani can feed them to him
  • shaw takes a quick pat on the shoulder because her mom respects her limitations
  • root sees mama shaw as she’s leaving and gets a wave and veritably beams
  • mama shaw only knows root as (affectionately) “that odd girl from across the street”
Temporary Affairs II

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter o2.  Lucky Charm         

A week passed in the blink of an eye.  Three out of those seven nights, your husband had awoken in the middle of the night soaked in cold sweat and shivering.  At first, you thought he was running a fever, but upon closer examination, you realized he was having nightmares. 

From a casual conversation with your mother-in-law you discovered that the pen you had discarded as a weapon against your love rival was a gift to Jongin from his late grandfather.  You drowned in guilt, immediately calling the hotel venue for any updates about your husband’s important souvenir.  After twenty minutes of gospel music (really, why can’t they play cooler hip music, like EXO or something), an operator finally picked up.  You straightened yourself in your seat, hoping for some positive news, only to be disappointed by another notification that they still haven’t discovered it.  And by the tone of the lady on the other end, she was super annoyed at your constant calls for updates.  But you didn’t care, if bugging her on a daily basis would get her to dedicate more time into searching for your lost treasure then so be it. 

With a defeated sigh, you thanked her and hung up.  Frowning, you slid your tablet from the vanity onto the bed, tapping the screen a few times to look through auctions and Ebay for an identical pen.  Just then, the restroom door swung open and in came your dazzling half naked husband.  Flabbergasted, you instantly closed the browsers so that Jongin wouldn’t know about your endeavor to replace his beloved farewell present from his grandfather with a fake duplicate. 

He looked at you amusingly as you half stumbled on the bed trying to scoot yourself closer to him.  With a swift move, Jongin threw a black tank top on before joining you in bed.  Shyly smiling, you extended your arms out and puckered your lips.  He happily compiled with your request, giving you a few smooches on your awaiting lips. 

“Hehe,” you cutely responded, snuggling up against your hubby. 

Jongin threw an arm around your shoulder.  You sniffed in his fresh scent and contentment spread through every cell and vein in your body.  Before you knew it, you had drifted off to sweet slumber. 

 

The bed shook beside you.  With sleepy eyes, you looked over to your husband to see him mumbling and shaking in his sleep once again.  His forehead was lined with sweat.  Grimacing, your slender fingers stroked his temples, willing for him to wake up from his reoccurring nightmare.  It’s all my fault. 

“Harabeoji…” you heard him mumble in his sleep. 

His strangled calls for his grandfather brought tears to the corner of your eyes. 

“Oppa…” you called, tapping on his shoulders to try to get him to wake up. 

It took about a full minute before his trembling calmed down.  But he doesn’t wake up and you didn’t want him to for by then your cheeks were swamped with tears.  You cuddled closer to him, feeling so helpless and remorseful for causing your husband so much pain. 

—-

Three days later, as you were finger painting in your bedroom, the doorbell rang.  Even though you knew the maid would get the door, you rushed down the stairs anyway.  When you get downstairs, you witness a post office carrier handing over a box to the housemaid. 

“It’s mine!” you called, hopping down the stairs and sprinting to take the box out of the maid’s hand. 

“________ah, be careful!” your mother-in-law cautioned as you skipped up the stairs two steps at a time.   Oops.  You totally forgot you were carrying a human being in your belly.

Laughing nervously, you bowed at Jongin’s mother apologetically and continued back up to your room but slowly and one step at a time.  Upstairs, you closed the door and plopped onto bed.  Due to your earlier eagerness to receive the package, you didn’t have time to wash your hands so the cardboard box was now covered in blotches of rainbow paint.  Taking a pair of scissors, you meticulously cut open the package, careful not to ruin the contents inside.  You stared at the sparkling pen admirably as it sat delicately in your small hands.  It probably wasn’t the best idea but you really felt the need to do something – anything to stop the nightmares that haunted your hubby’s mind. 

Throwing on a flowy, loose dress, your pink bow flats, and a light jacket, you walked out the door.  It wasn’t like you couldn’t give it to Jongin when he came home from work, but you were getting more and more anxious by the second.  The pen just had to stop staring back at you dauntingly and the only way to solve this situation was to present it to Jongin and get it over with to calm your nerves. 

At his office, his staff greeted you, immediately identifying you as their boss’s first lady.  You smiled graciously as they welcomed you in without having to be checked head to toe by the securities.  Oh yeah, VIP status.  Internal fist bump.

 

Jongin’s secretary knocked on his office and informed, “Boss, ________ssi, is here”.

From the glass window, you giggled, watching the surprise expression spread on his face.  Oh youuu, why are you so handsome even when you look so dumb?  The secretary exited the room and invited you in.  Shyly, you entered. 

“Jagiya, why are you here?” Jongin asked, instantly up on his feet to take your hands into his. 

Pouting, you jokingly inquired, “Do you not want me to be here?”

“Of course I do!  That’s not what I meant,” he responded frantically.

You laughed to make sure he knew you were joking.  Holding your hand, he dragged you to sit down on a chair and you graciously sighed in relief because your back was killing you.  He sat down in his armchair across from you.  By then, the loud thumping of your heart was already so intense you thought it’d pop out of your chest.  Biting your lower lip, you pulled the box out of your purse and timidly slid it across the desk to Jongin.  He raised his brow at you and picked it up. 

“What is this?” he questioned then he anxiously turned to his calendar, “I didn’t miss our wedding anniversary, did I?” 

You looked at him dumbfounded. 

“No, Pabo, we’ve only been married for five months…how do you not remember that?” you pouted.

“Well, it’s ‘cause I already feel like I can’t live without you,” he charmed.

Argh.  My husband is a life ruiner.  You whimpered and wiggled around in your chair like a fangirl.  Jongin smiled widely at your direction, knowing that his sweet talk worked.  It only caused you to melt on the inside even more.  You don’t understand how I feel when you say things like that then throw me that killer smile.  You pretended to faint.  Chuckling, he walked around and pulled you over to sit on his lap.  With his arm securely around your waist, he snuggled into the crook of your neck and nibbled on your collarbone, causing you to squirm around.  He looked at you flirtatiously and you muffled a giggle. 

Picking up the discarded box, you nervously said, “Oppa, open it”.

He took it from your hands and opened it.  You squinted your eyes, examining his reaction.  Taking the pen out of the case, he scrutinized it from top to bottom.  You swallowed the lump in your throat, apprehensively.  The silence was so deafening. 

“The hotel called back to say they found it,” you lied, trying to break the quietness. 

Turning around, he looked into your eyes for a good minute.  Out of conscience, you hung your head. 

Then after a few more pauses, he finally spoke, “Cool, tell them I said thanks”.

You sighed in relief, thinking your plan worked.  But from the corner of your eyes, you witnessed the gloomy expression that darkened his face.  And even though he forced on a smile, you could tell that your cover was blown. 

Inhaling, you closed your eyes and said in one breath, “Oppa, I’m so sorry.  I lied.  They didn’t find your pen.  I bought an identical one off of Ebay because Omunim told me that your grandfather gave it to you before he passed away, which means it’s extremely important to you, like a good luck charm.  I know, I know replacing it with a bootlegged one wouldn’t be the same but I didn’t know how else to make it up to you”.

Slowly, you felt tears gathered at the corners of your eyes as your words jumbled up.

“It’s all my fault,” you said tearfully.

As soon as you finished rambling, Jongin’s soft lips smacked against yours.  You’re not sure why but you burst into tears. 

Separating from the kiss, Jongin said, “Man, Jagiya, you really talk a lot”.

With watery eyes, you looked at him puzzled and stuttered, “D-did you not hear what I said?  I lied to you”. 

Smiling at you tenderly, he wiped the tears from your eyes and leaned in again to give you another peck.

“I know.  I knew as soon as I took the first glance at the pen,” he explained. 

You pouted, sniffing back tears, “Then why didn’t you say something?  You played along and pretended you didn’t know”.

“Because I don’t need a good luck charm, I already found one,” he spoke. 

Confused, you broke out of the loving moment and turned around to dig through his penholder with one hand.  The other still wrapped around his neck so that you wouldn’t fall out of his lap. 

“Did you find it already?” you asked, looking for his missing pen.

Not discovering it, you turned back to him to see him gazing lovingly at you.  Omg, that look.  He knows that look gets me every time!  He leaned in again to kiss you lightly on your lips.  You blinked a few times, confused because you were expecting him to flip out on you for lying to him.

“I don’t need a good luck charm anymore because you’re my new lucky charm,” he answered your unasked question.

$@@%%&#%@#%@%@  Gahh, the feels.  You stared blankly at him as your cheeks blushed hot pink.  Amused by your innocent demeanor, your husband leaned in again.  You squealed, wiggling around in his lap as he continued to kiss you.  Eventually, you surrendered and kissed him back.

“Boss, the meeting’s about to – Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” his secretary said as the papers in her hands fell onto the floor.  Embarrassed, she instantly crouched down to collect them.

Just as bashful, you hopped off of your husband’s lap and straightened your skirt, mortified that you two had been caught making out.  Great, now they were going to spread rumors about Oppa being unprofessional at work.  Why did I have to come today?   

“I’ll go home first then, Oppa,” you walked off but Jongin pulled you back.

“Wait here, okay?  Meeting will just be twenty minutes.  Afterwards, we can go out for lunch,” he spoke, expertly bending his neck to kiss you.  Eep.  You side-eyed to see the secretary fidgeting awkwardly but Jongin didn’t seem to care that she was witnessing his public displays of affection.    

When your husband left to go to his meeting, you sat down in his armchair, curious as to what it felt like and to see things from his point of view.  

Broadening your shoulders and lifting your chin up, you said in a low tone, pretending to be Kim Jongin “You go get me coffee.  You finish those report asap or I will fire you!”

Gahh my husband must be super attractive commanding people during meetings.  Internally fangirls.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.  You immediately cleared your throat and regained composure.  Oh gosh, did she see me pretend to order people around earlier?  She entered with a tray and politely placed the mug on the desk in front of you. 

“Thanks!” you chipped. 

“No problem,” she spoke. 

Bringing the mug up to your lips, you could almost already taste the flavor of coffee against the valleys of your tongue…only it wasn’t coffee.  You held the mug out in front of you to examine the contents. 

The assistant laughed and explained, “The president said to give you milk because coffee’s bad for the baby”.

A small smile crept on your face and you thanked her before slurping up the warm drink that soothed your semi-grumbling tummy.  After she left and you had completely emptied your mug, you rocked back and forth on Jongin’s chair trying to find some source of entertainment as you await for your husband’s return. 

You discovered your first source of amusement by looking at the picture frames on President Kim’s desk.  The first one on the left was a family portrait of both your immediate family with his during your wedding.   Then the next one…two…three were photos of Jongin and you.  The first one was of your wedding picture.  Second one was a silly picture taken at a photo booth during an amusement park date.  And the last… was a picture of you passed out in his arms during your engagement announcement.  You face palmed and embarrassingly flipped the photo frame upside-down.  To your right were two more frames but both only had you in it.  The first one was of you doing a silly cross-eye look and sticking your tongue out.  The next one wasn’t any better; you were smiling so hard your eyes were mere thin curves.  You flipped both of them over, crossing your arms.  Why couldn’t he put pick one of me that’s more photogenic.  Now everyone in the office probably thought you were some crazy chick that he was forced to marry.  Pouting, you dug in your wallet and took out a picture of yourself, which you deemed “prettier”.  Giggling amusingly, you took some tape from the drawer and stick the photo over the silly picture of you.  Satisfied, you nodded and brushed your hands together as if the simple task had left your hands dusty.      

With a frown, you eyed the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and realized only ten minutes had passed.  Bored out of your mind, you held your head up with your hands.  Suddenly, an idea came to your mind.  You were dying to see Jongin’s serious persona during meetings so you got up.  But just as you do, your face crinkled and you sat back down.

“I shouldn’t bother him or people will think he’s unprofessional,” you sighed out loud.    

You knew it was bad to dig through his drawers because even though you guys were husband and wife, privacy to an individual was still important - just like how you’d never want your husband discovering your diary from a few months ago detailing how sexy he was during your first meeting.  

But your hands itched and you were extremely spiritless so you caved and curiously dug through his drawers.  At the bottom right cabinet, you discovered a pair of woman’s shoes in the bottom cabinet.  Immediately, you gasped.  Were these for another woman?  Frantically, you threw the lid off the shoebox.  In it were a pair of black velvet flats and a small post-it note that read, “In case ________ tries to wear any heels, give her these flats”.  

Blushing, you tried to hide the wide smile that spread across half your face.  Content to know that your husband wasn’t having an affair with another woman, you placed the lid back on and slipped the shoebox back into the cabinet.  Just as you do, you sneezed, shivering as a concentrated gust of freezing AC wind blew above your head.  You sneezed again, rubbing your cold bare arms.  On the third sneeze, you got up to walked over to a small built in closet in Jongin’s office.  Opening it you straightaway recognized one of your blazers that you’d been searching for for months.  So that’s where it is!  You pulled it out to put it on.  Just then your eye landed on a familiar gray jacket – the same gray jacket that your husband often let you borrow when you two were still dating.  Sniffing in the scent, you slipped it on, and plopped down on the sofa because being pregnant made your back turn stiff.  Against the soft furniture and encased in your husband’s warm coat, you unknowingly fell asleep.   

When your consciousness returned, you felt a thumb graze against the side of your face.  Fluttering your eyes open, you discover your handsome other half casually wiping a stream of drool from the corner of your lips while grinning at you like a fool.  You sat up a little embarrassed.  

“Did I fall asleep?” you asked the blatantly obvious question.

“Mhmm, Sleepy Head, you sure did” he answered, pecking you on the tip of your nose.  

“Argh, I do that every time I wear your clothes.  Oppa, do you soak your clothes in diphenhydramine?” you jokingly questioned. 

Thinking about it, it sounded reasonable considering the fact that you have been passing out in bed ever since you got married, which was super weird because you’ve spent the last twenty-two years of your life battling insomnia.  

“No, why would I do that?” he asked, stroking your hair.  

“I don’t know…and why do you have my blazer in your closet?  I’ve been looking for it for ages,” you grilled. 

Laughing, he responded, “I brought it here because a foolish girl always comes out with too less clothes and ends up breaking her husband’s heart every time she gets sick”  

AHHH THEM FEELS.  First the shoes, now the blazer.  Did he think you were a child who couldn’t take care of herself?  But instead of feeling offended, you felt a sense of euphoria being pampered by such a caring man.  You recoiled in the sofa.

 

“But if you found your blazer, why are you wearing my jacket?” you husband questioned with a hint of amusement. 

BUSTED.  You pretended to pout but ended up giggling, withdrawing even further into the sofa to hide your blushing cheeks.  Beside you, Jongin threw his arm around you almost in a death grip as he began tickling you on your underarm.  

“Oppaa!” you squealed.  

“That’s for taping another picture over my favorite picture of you!”  

BUSTED AGAIN.  

 

“What?  How is that your favorite picture of me?” you complained,  "I look like a psycho-chick in that”.  

He threw his head back laughing but didn’t deny what you said.  As you admired his mesmerizing laughter that sounded like melodies in your ear, your tummy grumbled.  You rubbed your belly timidly.    

“Okay, let’s go eat”, Jongin outstretched his hands and laced his fingers through yours.  As he pulled you up, you half flew into his arms, giggling like a young teenage girl in love. 

  

 

a/n: FLUFFY CHAPTER hehe.  ENJOY IT WHILE IT LAST AND I MEAN IT FOR THIS SERIES.  ~daydreams about Kim Jongin~  reader: WAKE UP!  me: I refuseeeeee!!! 

Hehehe :D hope you guys like this chapter!! Muah muah >3< 

Dumb Sentiment

Title: Dumb Sentiment 
Pairing: Blaine x Reader
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,002
Summary: “i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years”
A/N: Just causally going to drop this here like I haven’t just not written a fic in 8 months. Also, this is a Christmas present for @memesluna who is my fave always <3 (also the fact it isn’t Thanksgiving yet just means I didn’t miss Christmas this year!)

Keep reading

doublestar-iwaoi  asked:

I don't know if you are still doing the writing thing, but if you are, can I request 6 and Bokuto with Kuroo? Thank you!

Hello, sorry this took so long. 


Kuroo woke not with a start, but with the vague feeling something was out of place. Blearily squinting at his phone through sleep-encrusted eyelashes, the blurred neon lights slowly sharpened into lines: 6:52.

Fuck.

Too early.

His mouth was dry, his tongue rough as sandpaper, and his head – he lifted it off the pillow – okay, his head was surprisingly clear and pain free. So maybe it would be okay, as long as he got a little more sleep.

Trying to find a cool patch, Kuroo turned onto his other side, his right arm automatically swinging over to clutch the end of the pillow around his head.

Flump.

Huh?

Since when had his pillow been fluffy?

Gingerly he stretched his fingers, encountering not just fluff but something bristly, with a slight sticking texture tacking to his palm.

What the fu-uh-ck?

He patted it. Whatever it was moved. Not much, but there was a sound, too. Like a snuffling pig.  

He removed his hand, or tried to, but the next minute whatever it was in his bed, decided it was too hot and threw the quilt away, enveloping Kuroo in its folds.

“’K.”

A voice. A human voice and not a stray cat or lost puppy.  

“’M on my way, kaashiiii,’ the voice mumbled.

Oh. Fuck.  He recognised that voice, despite its early morning croakiness, and peering over the quilt only confirmed what he knew.

“BOKUTO!” he yelled.

“HUH!”  the messy haired and unattractively drooling figure of Fukurodani’s ex captain jolted about a meter in the air.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Kuroo yelled.

“Whassup, Kuroo-hoo-hoo,” Bokuto replied and yawning, he turned towards him, smiling sleepily.

Kuroo gritted his teeth, nothing was making any sense now, and he wasn’t sure anything would especially as Bokuto was snuffling against the pillow again.

“BOKUTO!”

He opened one eye. “Don’t shout. Head hurts.”

“Not surprised with all that lager you shipped down last night. That’s what happens when you get drunk as a skunk and … HOLY MOTHER OF …OF … OF-”

“You’re shouting. Go ‘way.” Bokuto whimpered, and flapped his hand in the air, landing flat on Kuroo’s nose.

Gathering his wits and the quilt right up around him, Kuroo chewed his lip. Yelling wasn’t working, but he needed an explanation. So, he had to approach this rationally. Calmly. Even if this was Bokuto he was dealing with, logic would throw up and answer and all would be well, he told himself.

(What the fuck, this was Bokuto, there could be twenty reasons, each more outlandish than the last and none would be the truth, but he had to ask.)

He breathed in. Then out. Then in again. And out.

And in.

“You got asthma?” Bokuto asked. “Only you’re wheezing.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I … I … Bokuto, please tell me-”

“Anything, Kuroo-hoo-hoo.”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Bokuto blinked his eyes open, wriggled a bit, then snorted. “’M, not.”

“Not what?”

“Naked.” He held up his leg. “Look, I still got my boxers on.”

“On one leg,” Kuroo agreed. “But that’s it.”

“Oh.” His eyes drooped again.

“No … no, don’t go to sleep. Why are you naked in my bed?”

“Couldn’t find my jammies.”

“Huh?”

“Py-Ja-Mahs,” he explained. “They’re cool. Akaashi found them on ebay for me. They have owls on the pocket. And yeah, they have a pocket, which is really useful for putting things in. Oh, and there’s an owl-”

“On the pocket. Yeah, I get it,” Kuroo snapped. And now his head was hurting. “But why are you here?  Why are you in my bed wearing no clothes?”

“’M not.”

“Uh, yeah, you are!” Kuroo insisted. “I am not counting a pair of shorts hanging off your leg as you being in anyway dressed- DON’T YOU DARE TURN OVER.”

“’M not, though.”

“Do you actually understand what naked means, Bokuto-kun?” he asked, trying to sound kind. “Only I have a dictionary on my shelf. I could fetch it for you. It’s right over … oh.”

Bokuto sniggered. “See, I’m not naked in your bed, am I?”

Kuroo gaped. “This is your room,” he said in a small voice.

“Sure is,” Bokuto replied with a grin. He propped himself up on one elbow, and then flicked Kuroo’s hair before pulling the quilt off him. “AND THOSE ARE MY PYJAMAS, YOU FRICKING CAT!”