#putting down the keyboard and picking up the lighter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maria021015 · 5 months

Text

“Okay, come on,” Zaida whispered to herself, her words muffled by the party blower she held clutched between her teeth as she bent over the cake she had made late last night with a lighter, transferring the flame to the large ‘1’ and ‘7’ candles she’d stuck in the top. When she was done, she picked up the cake from the hood of the Jeep where she’d propped it, and approached the entrance to the Stilinski house, twisting to push the doorbell with her elbow.

“Who the hell is visiting us at seven in the damn morni-” Zaida could hear Stiles complaining loudly on the other side of his front door from where she stood on the porch waiting for him to answer. As soon as he pulled the door open and saw her - party blower in her mouth sounding off, and cake in her hands with a bright twinkle in her eyes - he froze, and his face broke into a broad smile. “Zaida, what…? Is that a birthday cake?”

She started to answer but couldn’t exactly talk clearly with the party blower in her mouth, so Stiles reached out to pluck it from between her lips. “Happy Birthday!” She cheered and wiggled the cake excitedly.

“Oh, Zay, you really didn’t have to. My birthday was ages ago!” He chuckled and then his eyes landed on the cake in her hands. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s Chewbacca!” She grinned, and at his snicker, her face morphed into a frown. “Seriously, Stilinski? I go out of my way to bake and decorate you a cake from scratch, and your first reaction is to laugh at it.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just, it looks like a porcupine.” The boy struggled to compose himself.

“Blow out your freaking candles and let me in. Before I smash this cake into your face.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he complied happily, blowing out the ‘17’ and stepping aside to allow her in.

“Honestly, I didn’t know if you’d even be up this early.” She admitted and put the cake down on the kitchen bench and rummaged through the cupboards to pull out two plates, two forks and a knife.

“I’ve been up since five-thirty researching deer-related road incidents.” He raised a questioning brow at her. “Cake for breakfast?”

“I once watched you down half a can of whipped cream for breakfast, so you’re gonna shut up and eat it.” She snarked and cut them both rather large slices. “Did you find anything like what happened last night?” She asked and carried both of their plates up the stairs towards his room.

“No!” He answered with a grin as he held his bedroom door open for her to pass through first.

“Why do you sound so excited about that?” Zaida picked up on his tone and set the slices down on his desk atop mounds of printed research.

“Because that just proves that something was supernatural about it!” He collapsed into his desk chair and shovelled a large forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth, then typed away furiously to bring up the public incident reports and articles he’d found.

“Stiles, I’m gonna leave for work. Make sure you take out the bins before-” Noah Stilinski called out to his son from the hallway and paused when he walked in to find both Stiles and Zaida staring back at him. “Are you eating cake?”

“Happy birthday?” Zaida smiled sheepishly with a half-shrug.

“Oh, happy birthday Zaida!” The man smiled kindly, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s for me,” Stiles explained.

“But your birthday was in April?” The Sheriff’s face twisted once again into a confused expression, and a moment later he decided he didn’t need to know. “What are you two kids doing?”

“Research,” Zaida answered simply.

“You know how many vehicle collisions last year involved deer? Two hundred and forty-seven thousand.” Stiles muttered as he hunched over his keyboard, staring at the screen at concerningly close proximity.

“Oh, God, please go to school…” The Sheriff tipped his head back into a groan.

“But that's crossing the road - this one last night came right down the middle.” Stiles continued and Zaida’s ears perked up at that fact. He was right. It was completely atypical behaviour.

“We know it was scared to death - literally - so maybe it was running from something,” Zaida suggested, leaning over his shoulder to take a gander at his research.

“I'm not gonna beg you.” Noah stepped further into the room, standing right behind them both.

“Okay, good. I'm impervious to your influence, anyway.” Stiles replied absent-mindedly.

“Would you consider a bribe?” His father offered hopefully.

“You couldn't meet my price.” The boy snorted.

“Extortion?” Sheriff shot right back and Zaida finally understood exactly where Stiles got it from.

“You got nothing on me.” Stiles shrugged and his father sighed and gripped the back of his chair, tugging him away from his computer as he continued to type, stretching impossibly far to retain contact with the keyboard. “Dad, what are you doing? Dad-”

Stiles yelped as he fell off his chair and hit the floor with a loud thud, leaving Zaida to laugh at him.

“Zaida, please make sure he’s ready and out of the house by quarter-to.” Noah turned to her, and she nodded at him.

“Sure thing, Sheriff.” The girl bid him goodbye with a salute.

“You traitor,” Stiles grumbled from his place on the carpet, his face smooshed into the floor.

“That’s for laughing at my Wookie cake.” She hummed and finished off her slice of cake.

Zaida caught a ride to school with Stiles that morning, considering Allison was taking Lydia due to her car being wrecked the previous night. She was happy to find that if she pretended everything was normal - and that her heart wasn’t going to beat out of her chest every time he looked at her for a little too long - for the most part, things would be exactly as they usually were. She was okay to settle for that at the moment, until she figured out what to do about the dilemma she was currently faced with. She’d always despised love triangles, and yet here she was crushing on her best friend who was in turn crushing on her other best friend. But her other alternative was to ignore him until her feelings went away, and she’d already tried that to no avail. Her ‘avoiding Stiles’ strategy was a clear bust. As soon as they walked into the Beacon Hills High building, Scott was there to greet them with a bright idea about how to get his tattoo back.

“You wanna ask Derek for help? Why? Why?” Stiles cried out dramatically in exasperation.

“He's got the triskele tattooed on his back, so, there has to be a way to do it without healing, right?” The werewolf reasoned, and Zaida couldn’t flaw his logic.

“Okay, yeah, but still - doesn't he have his hands a little full right now?” Stiles pointed out the missing posters pinned to the noticeboard in the hallway where Erica and Boyd’s faces looked back at them.

“Look, these are the applications for the career adviser. I need them sorted. And, whatever happened to the library while I was gone? I want it cleared up!” The sound of their old principal's voice echoing down the hall alerted them to his arrival now that Gerard was missing - according to Xander, his body was never found. They peered towards the office where he was pulling a giant broadsword from beneath the desk. “And what the hell is this?”

“Go, go, go…” Stiles urged them to hurry off.

“I’ll see you boys in English, I gotta swap out my books.” Zaida waved them goodbye and headed in the direction of her locker when a flash of red hair blurred across her peripheral vision and Lydia snatched her by the arm and dragged her to Allison’s locker. “Lydia, no!” She hissed but plastered an awkward smile on her face when Allison turned to face her.

“Hey,” The taller girl greeted, not having spoken to her the previous night with all the deer-related chaos.

“Hey,” Zaida repeated, not knowing what else to say until Lydia nudged her. “How was France?”

“It was good,” Allison nodded, seemingly happy the shorter brunette was talking to her. “How was your summer?”

“Shit, I was grounded. But I got a job at a local candy shop.” She shrugged.

“And apparently found a new sense of style that I, for one, am obsessed with! I was getting so sick of the jeans and cute top combo.” Lydia gripped her hips to take a better look at her skirt, then pulled off the hair elastic keeping her braid in place, unravelling the style to leave her hair out in loose waves. “Now it’s perfect.”

“Green suits you,” Allison commented with an appreciative nod, agreeing with the redhead. “It brings out your eyes.”

“Thanks,” Zaida smiled genuinely this time, feeling a bit more comfortable even though that arrow to the leg was still in the back of her mind. “Lydia went through my stuff before summer and threw out half of my black clothes and demanded I add more colour to my wardrobe. I hate to admit that she was right, but I do quite like the change.”

“Ooh, speaking of change…” Lydia hummed, getting distracted by the new students walking past. “Freshmen. Tons and tons of fresh men…”

“You mean fresh boys.” Allison corrected, mildly amused whilst Zaida wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Lydia, they're fourteen.”

“Eh, some are more mature than others.” The redhead shrugged.

“Lyds, I know more than half the guys in this town look like they’re on growth hormones, but if you’re not careful, you’re gonna catch a case.” Zaida shook her head in disapproval. Lydia might have changed a lot since they’d first met, but there were moments where she was still…well, the Lydia Martin.

“You know, it's okay to be single. Focus on yourself for a little while. Work on becoming a better person.” Allison chimed in.

“Allison, I love you. So, if you need to do that thing where we talk about me and pretend like we're not actually talking about you, it's totally fine.” Lydia chirped, calling out the brunette as she eyed two identical hunky guys clad in black leather jackets. “But I don't want a boyfriend. I want a distraction.”

“Brothers?” The huntress raised a plucked brow.

‘Twins.” The redhead smirked and leaned against the lockers, watching them as they passed.

“Wait and find out how old they are before you drag one into Coach’s office.” Zaida rolled her eyes at her friend. “Come on, I gotta go to my locker before we get to class.”

Walking into English a tad bit late, the first thing Zaida noticed when she took the free seat behind Stiles, was that Isaac was nowhere to be seen. Leaning forward in her seat, she hissed to get Stiles’ attention. “Pst, where’s Isaac?” She asked him, hoping he might have received some information via Scott, who was at the desk to the right of Stiles trying to avoid looking at Allison at the desk in front.

“I don’t know, nor do I care,” The boy rolled his eyes and Zaida huffed in annoyance. “And you shouldn’t care either. Or did you forget he cracked your head open on Scott’s kitchen bench?”

“Yeah, and Allison shot me with a crossbow, yet everyone seems fine with her.” Zaida pointed out the contrast between the two. “Isaac proved himself when he helped us, has she?”

“You know I agree with you about that, but Scott’s in love with her and he’s my best friend, so I can’t exactly publically shun her.” Stiles sighed.

“I’m not saying to shun her. I’m working on moving past it.” She shook her head. “I’m saying that if we can forgive her, we can forgive Isaac. He even apologised to Lydia.”

“Yeah, because he’s trying to get into your panties,” The boy shot back angrily.

“Okay, one, never say ‘panties’ again. Two, Isaac’s not trying to get into my…” She trailed off, not finding an acceptable word.

“Knickers? Undies? Tighty-whities? Do none of those tickle your fancy? Because ‘vagina’ still fits.” Stiles snarked and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Stop it! He’s not trying to get into my bed.” She settled on a word that didn’t make her flinch. “He’s just trying to do the right thing.”

“Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that.” The boy snorted and turned back to the front of the class, effectively cutting off that conversation as his frustration rose. Why she was so insistent on defending Derek’s beta, he didn't know, but he knew it bothered him. A resounding buzz filled the classroom and they all noticed their phone screens lighting up to a mass text message.

"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth, flowed sombre under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness." A thin young woman with dark hair and eyes to match read aloud from her phone and her heels clacked against the floor as she walked leisurely into the classroom and took her place by the desk. “This is the last line to the first book we are going to read. It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone.”

The class complied, switching their devices off and tucking them away to turn their full attention to the new teacher. Not that long into the lesson, Scott was called to sign out at the request of Melissa, and that caught Zaida’s attention immediately. Melissa McCall was cool, but not the kind if letting-your-son-skip-school-for-fun type of cool. She wouldn’t call on him unless it was something incredibly important and, as the chances were, incredibly supernatural. Ms Blake stepped out to speak with him for a moment before he left and Zaida retreated into her head, searching for Isaac’s door in the corridor of her mind. When she found it, it took her quite a bit of restraint to not throw the door completely open. Instead, she simply lay her hand flat against it and peered through, feeling a wave of wooziness and dulled panic wash over her before the light inside went dark.

“Stiles!” She hissed his name once more, grabbing his attention. “Something’s wrong with Isaac-”

“You used your telempthy? You’re not supposed to be doing that!” Stiles’ eyes widened as he looked back at her in alarm. “What if something bad was happening and you felt it? The whole point of practising the blocks is to avoid something like that.”

“But something bad was happening,” She tried to refocus his attention. “I think he passed out and I don’t know why, but I could feel that something was wrong.”

“Scott’s going to handle it, okay?” He assured her. “It’s not like either of us can afford to skip class. My dad will kill me and Xander will ground you until Christmas. There’s nothing we can do.”

Zaida didn’t want to admit it, but the boy was right. They were entirely powerless at the moment, and Isaac was currently unreachable in his unconscious state. All they could do was wait to hear from Scott and hope that Isaac would be okay. “Besides, if Melissa called Scott, then Isaac’s already at the hospital, which means he’s going to be okay,” Stiles added in an attempt to allay her worries, and it did.

Towards the end of the class, Stiles began to lose focus. He always struggled to keep his attention on one thing for an extended period of time unless he was hyper fixating - and he certainly wasn’t that interested in Heart of Darkness. Instead, his eyes wandered to the floor, and then to the bandage wrapped around the ankle of the redhead sitting beside him. “Hey, Lydia - what is that? Is that from the accident?”

“No...Prada bit me.” She answered, and Zaida frowned at hearing that. She knew the redhead’s little pomeranian extremely well, and she was always perfectly behaved.

“Your dog?” Stiles peered at the injury closely.

“No, my designer handbag.” Lydia drawled sarcastically. “Yes, my dog.”

“Prada would never do that. She’s a lady through and through. I’ve never even seen her properly bite her food, she nibbles.” Zaida interjected.

“Okay, what if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?” Stiles whispered conspirationaly.

“Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?” Lydia rolled her eyes, not buying the connection.

“Or something. I just...maybe it means something's coming. Something bad.” The boy tried to reason, and whilst they may not have a lot of evidence, Zaida had to admit he could be onto something. Deer don’t just tear off headfirst into cars.

“It was a deer and a dog.” The redhead raised her brows. “What's that thing you say about threes? Once...twice-”

“Once is an accident, two is a coincidence, three is a pattern, and four is enough for a warrant.” Zaida perfectly recited the quote that she’d heard both Stiles and his father use. Then she paused when she realised her knee was bouncing, and her pulse had started to jump. Lifting up her hands, she saw she was starting to shake. “Guys, I think-”

Before she could finish speaking a loud thud and splat against the window beside the redhead caught their attention, making them all jump slightly in their seats at the surprise of it. They turned to see a bright red bloodstain as the black bird that had crashed straight into the window fell.

“Yeah, something’s definitely happening.” Stiles finished Zaida’s sentence, staring out as a flock of birds large enough to span almost their entire view of the sky were flying straight towards the school from the far treeline. They didn’t stop, or even slow, as they neared the building and crashed straight into the glass as they came. The wall of windows lining the left side of the classroom shattered one by one with a loud smash as more and more of them died upon impact, and some made it through the already blown-out windows, flapping noisily around the room in a panic.

“Get down, everyone! Get down! Down! Get down!” Ms Blake yelled out to them and took cover herself as the room was starting to fill with cawing black birds that continued to circle until they nose-dived to their deaths either into the floor, or desks, or walls.

The students all ducked, trying to avoid being pecked or stabbed by sharp beaks in the torrent of black feathers surrounding them. Zaida threw up her blocks as the fear started to take root within her. Stiles reached out and gripped her hand, tugging her to the floor with him as his other arm went out to pull Lydia along with them. He shielded them both with his body, taking the brunt of the crossfire. It seemed to go on forever when in reality it was over within a few minutes. When the last few birds stopped cawing and fluttering their wings, Stiles retreated, and they all looked around at the sea of bloodied carcasses and traumatised classmates.

“What’s that poem about ravens?” Zaida asked in a shaky voice, her legs trembling as Stiles helped her to her feet. "One for sorrow, two for joy..."

“I don’t think that applies to this amount.” The boy shook his head.

“Well…if you wanted more proof, Lyds, that’s number three.” The brunette gulped as a feathered body beside her twitched. “A definite pattern.”

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski #stiles #stiles x oc #teen wolf fanfiction #lydia martin #female oc #female original character #scott mccall #isaac lahey #allison argent

0 notes

vewortape · 2 years

Text

Best computer mouse 2017

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 HOW TO#

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 FULL#

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 CODE#

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 PC#

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 BLUETOOTH#

What’s more, mice of all kinds can benefit from extra buttons or wheels that give them extra programmable functions for, say, zooming the view in and out in design applications or skipping backwards and forwards in your Web browser. It’s worth thinking about battery life with wireless mice or about features that allow you to use the same mouse on several PCs, tablets or laptops and switch between them with a button press. Is there anything else worth looking out for? Even professional gamers often won’t have the sensitivity maxed out it’s just there if they need it for activities where pixel-perfect precision matters. Most people have the sensitivity dialled down – the high resolution just makes movement smoother and more accurate.

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 FULL#

Take the numbers with a pinch of salt a 4,000dpi mouse isn’t necessarily any better than a 1,600dpi rodent and, for many of us, such a mouse would actually be too sensitive if used at full resolution. Modern mice tend to start at 800dpi and go up to an average 1,200 to 1,600dpi, with gaming and high-end productivity mice taking that further to 4,000 or even 8,000dpi. The sensitivity or resolution of a mouse is expressed in dots per inch (dpi), meaning the number of individual points within an inch of movement that the mouse is able to pick up. What sensitivity or resolution do I need? Even in the worst-case scenarios, we’re talking milliseconds with a wireless mouse, but that can be enough to mean the difference between victory and defeat in online games. Wired mice are also often slightly cheaper, and there’s barely any delay between you moving the mouse or clicking a button and that being registered with your PC.

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 PC#

You don’t need to worry about batteries or charging the mouse, and wired mice just work on nearly every PC or laptop, which can’t always be said about wireless mice. Wired mice are generally less popular these days, but they still have some big advantages.

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 BLUETOOTH#

Some connect via Bluetooth while others connect via a plug-in USB dongle, which might be essential if you’re using a desktop PC, as many still ship without Bluetooth built-in. Going for a wireless mouse means less cable clutter, which is useful if you’re using it with a laptop that you might be using at home, in the office and elsewhere. The other key issues are connectivity and sensitivity or resolution. If you’ve used a few mice then you’ll probably have some idea of what suits you best but, if you haven’t, this can be the trickiest part of making your choice.īest monitor 2022: Top displays for home office and gaming Some mice have a more vertical format and keep your hand in a “handshake” alignment, which is something that puts less strain on the muscles and the wrist. However, some people prefer a lighter, slimmer and often ambidextrous mouse that you rest your hand lightly on and use with your fingertips. Generally speaking, more expensive mice tend to follow an ergonomic shape, where the mouse is designed to fall naturally underneath the spread of your right hand. Unless you’re a gamer or a design professional, the most important aspect of a mouse is comfort and the mouse’s shape.

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 HOW TO#

Read next: The best PC keyboards money can buy How to buy the best mouse for you If you’re just getting used to working from home, you’ll be surprised what a difference a decent mouse can make. Many even come with extra programmable buttons you can use to control important functions without resorting to the keyboard, which can help you work more efficiently. It’ll support your hand while you’re working and help ensure you don’t get RSI from clicking the buttons, scrolling the scroll wheel or moving it around. What’s more, buying the best mouse you can means you can use your PC in comfort.

#BEST COMPUTER MOUSE 2017 CODE#

You’ll find it easier to navigate the desktop, make selections and get around your normal apps, and if you work in any field that involves graphics, video, code or design you’ll find a good mouse pretty much essential. Sure, you can struggle on with a bargain-basement effort or the trackpad built into your laptop, but you’ll find yourself working faster and more effectively if you connect a half-decent mouse. Too many people ignore the importance of buying the best mouse you can afford when you’re using a PC or even a laptop on a desk.

#Best computer mouse 2017

1 note · View note

iced-nct · 2 years

Text

Not With Her

Pairing: Executive Assistant Park Jisung x F Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None, this is angsty and fluffy as hell.

Synopsis: Everyone has to start somewhere. Even if that ‘somewhere’ is an assistant to the assistant. To be fair, Jisung is a wildly busy Executive assistant, who is currently responsible for far more than he should be. A massive weight lifted off his shoulders after he hired you for the role and discovered you were fully capable of understanding how a fax machine worked. Apparently, the last one wasn’t too bright. When Jisung wasn’t running around the office like a mad man, the two of you kept a comfortable silence in the cozy shared office. Perhaps if you’d bother to listen to the office drama, you’d hear about how many people talked of the ‘affair’ you and Jisung were rumored to be having. It might’ve saved the two of you the awkward HR meeting...

a/n: Welcome to the first installment of Apply Within. Nothing but soft fluffiness for our Executive Assistant! I hope you enjoy :)

“No, no! It’s not a bother at all. Consider it done, Mark” Jisung sounded stressed as he hung up his desk phone. His shoulders slumped as he ran a hand down his face, an exasperated breath passing his lips.

“You okay, boss?” You spun your chair to face his desk.

You’d been working alongside Jisung for a few weeks now, falling into his schedule effortlessly. With working in such close proximity, you were able to pick up little cues and changes in his mood easily. Being able to recognize when Jisung was stressed was one of the first things you learned, second only to the extremely thorough demonstration on using the fax machine.

“Yeah, Y/n. Just an extra portfolio I need to get from Jeno to put together for Mark by the end of the week” Jisung shrugged before continuing his rapid typing.

You rose from your seat and placed four file folders down on his keyboard, halting his typing. Your hand rested on his shoulder lightly. “Maybe this will ease your stress a little. I took the liberty of completing the projections for each sector. They are all color coded as well. Just the way you like” you winked at him.

Jisung leaned his head back to rest on the back of his chair. “You are a life-saver. I would be so lost without you” His hand squeezed yours briefly. Brief touches were not uncommon between you and Jisung, sometimes touch was easier to convey what he was feeling.

Had both your backs not been turned away from the office door, you might’ve seen the envious look on the new finance interns face. Taking a seat back at your desk to continue sending emails to follow up on missing schedules and supply orders.

Jisung had hired you a few short weeks ago after his previous assistant had quit under the immense pressure. Sure, the job had taken some getting used to, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. Plus, you had to admit that Jisung was very easy on the eyes. It made working with him all the better. From Jisung’s standpoint, you were the best assistant ever. Everything he needed done was completed before deadline, and as you got comfortable you began taking on more. Needless to say, you were like Jisung’s personal superhero. As his workload got lighter, he began opening up more and more. Not that the two of you really got to talking that much. It was mostly just the occasional eye contact or light touches, nothing that would warrant anything suspicious. And especially nothing that would warrant rumors about the ‘True Nature’ of your job with Jisung.

The work week had a habit of dragging by, especially when there was something exciting on the weekend. Jisung had hardly been in your shared office this week, too busy with all the tasks Mark had been tossing his way.

“Coffee and a muffin are from me. Make sure you eat a little something” you chastised Jisung when he strode into the room. Your breath hitched as you took in his appearance, he was wearing his ‘Friday suit’ as you called it. The dark grey material clung to his body, hugging all of the right areas. You might’ve drooled had he not snapped you out of it.

“Thank you, Y/n.” He patted your head lightly as he slid a stack of papers across your desk.

You held up a finger to halt him from speaking “Let me guess. Organized by date and time, in order of department, and on your desk before the end of the day?”

Jisung smirked at you “I was going to say before lunch. See how you really do under pressure”

A smile ghosted across your lips as you inspected the stack of papers, pulling a completed folder out from your desk drawer and handing it to Jisung. “I had everyone send me their papers yesterday. Got this done while I ate breakfast this morning.” you gestured for him to sit down.

“You really are the best assistant...” Jisung’s eyes were wide as he looked over your work.

“That’s what they tell me” You tossed him a wink, just as the new finance intern knocked on the doorframe.

She began talking to Jisung about something Jaemin sent her down for, you tuned her out as you focused on reading the email Mark had sent out for the Charity Gala. Both your email and Jisung’s pinged at the same time, an email from HR came through requesting a meeting with the two of you. No further details had been attached, just that you both were to come up to the conference room immediately.

“Good luck, Jisung!” The intern cooed as he breezed past her, Jisung didn’t so much as smile.

The elevator doors closed and Jisung released a shaky breath. “I’ve never been called up for a meeting unless it was to be a witness...”

“I can’t imagine we’ve done anything wrong. Maybe they just want to ask you if they can steal me” you teased, poking him playfully in the side which earned a small grin.

The two of you made your way to the conference room for the meeting, no clue as to what might happen behind those doors. You sat next to Jisung and the HR representative sat directly across from you, a thick manilla envelope perched on the table between you.

“I presume both of you read and signed off on the company code of conduct, correct?” the man asked, pulling the stack of papers out of the envelope.

Your brows furrowed “Of course we have. It’s a part of our first day training” Jisung looked equally as confused.

The man laid out the papers on the table in front of you, noticing that they were photos of both you and Jisung. “Then you know it is against company policy to date your superiors.”

The photos were slightly blurry, but there was no denying that they were of you and Jisung. Some appeared to be in more compromising positions than others. However, not all of them were inside the building. One that caught your eye was from a few blocks away last week.

Of course, the day you decided to take the bus it would be pouring rain. The closest bus stop was a two and a half block trek, and on top of that you’d forgotten your umbrella. All hope had seemed lost until a black jeep pulled up to the curb just a bit in front of you.

“Are you serious?” Jisung emerged from the car, umbrella in hand running toward you. “You have got to be crazy. You’re going to get sick!”

You laughed as he pulled you under the cover with him “And what will you do if I get sick?”

He flicked your forehead “Get in the car. It’s cold and raining. I’ll drive you home” you held onto his arm, practically glued to his side to avoid getting rained on. Jisung opened the passenger door, helping you into the vehicle.

You remembered the intensity of the eye contact you shared as he squeezed the top of your thigh once you settled into the seat. Each of you stealing glances at the other when you thought no one was watching. A comfortable silence filling the car, broken only by Jisung bursting into song when a 127 song came on the radio.

“Sorry, Y/n. They’re my favorite band.” Jisung blushed while explaining his sudden musical number.

“Did you hear? Renjun’s new assistant booked them to play at the Gala next week” His jaw dropped open at the revelation. Jisung reached over to pat your leg excitedly “We need to go together. That way I can teach you all about them!”

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your lips, absolutely smitten by Jisung with him being none the wiser.

The photo was of you and Jisung under his umbrella, less than a hair of space between you. Your eyes flicked to the stunned boy beside you, trying to gauge his reaction to the situation. “I have no idea what this is about? I just drove her home last week when it was raining. I can’t have my assistant getting ill” Jisung explained, his hands clamped together on the table. Tell number one that he was stressed.

The HR representative cleared his throat “There have been some things that have come to our attention in regards to your relationship.”

“There is no relationship. I can assure you I am not with her” Jisung spoke adamantly, “I would never jeopardize my position here like that.”

Even though you knew he was right, the words he spoke weighed heavy on your heart. The contents of your stomach turning to lead. Shaking your head in an attempt to clear the thoughts you looked up at the man across from you. “I don’t know who alerted you to this, but it is simply untrue. I would never be with Jisung.”

The words felt like you’d just slapped Jisung across the face, and the look he had certainly resembled being struck. Perhaps you did put a little too much emphasis on the word ‘never’. Seeming satisfied with the statements from both you and Jisung, the man rose to his feet. “The two of you will have separate offices from now on. Mark had one cleared out just down the hall from you, Mr. Park.” With that he bumbled out of the office.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, but tears soon flooded your lash line. Jisung was on his knees in front of you in a moment, his large hands resting on your knees. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that” panic threading in his voice.

“I know” you hiccupped “I know there’s nothing. But it still hurt” You brushed his hands away and stood, turning away and leaving Jisung kneeling on the conference room floor.

The following Monday was something you were dreading. After having to relocate your office to the opposite end of the floor, you wondered what the odds would be of seeing Jisung today. The new space was nice, and significantly less cramped that your previous office. However, the air seemed heavy and the room appeared empty without Jisung’s desk to occupy half of it. Settling into your chair and deciding not to let the new atmosphere affect your work, you dove into the weekly paperwork.

Hours had gone by without seeing your boss, but based on the giddy employees outside your door, he was somewhere nearby. Almost finished with reconciling the monthly invoices, you were interrupted by a knock on the door. Standing before you was a courier, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands.

“For Miss Y/n?” You waved him in and he placed the vase on your desk.

“Who are they from?” You asked, inspecting the handiwork before you. The courier just shrugged before leaving you alone once more.

Nestled amongst the petals sat a small white envelope with your name on it. You pulled it out to read the card tucked inside. ‘I hope you will still accompany me to the Gala this Friday –Jisung' Your heart fluttered slightly at the act of kindness and reconciliation Jisung just extended. Wearing a stupid grin on your face for the remainder of your shift.

Days go by extraordinarily slowly when you’re excited about something. In honor of Neo Dream’s first Charity Gala, Mark had given employees Friday off so that those attending the event had time to prepare. Excitement coursed through your veins as you readied yourself to see Jisung. After only communicating via email for a week, you were over the moon to be able to see him.

Renjun’s team had done a fantastic job with setting up the Gala, everything looked breathtaking. There, standing tall amongst the other executives, was Jisung. Dressed in a fitted black suit with a red rose on his lapel, he was a stand out from everyone around him. His eyes widened as he saw you entering the space, excusing himself from his friends.

“You look amazing” He breathed, his eyes raking over your body.

A smirk adorned your lips “You clean up pretty good too” Jisung chuckled at your joke. “Are you excited for the 127 performance?”

His smile widened, eyes crinkling in the corners. Clearly looking forward to seeing this band in person “I’m more looking forward to your reaction to them”

As if on cue the band filed onto stage to begin their set. Noting how people began to either pair off or head back to their tables. Jisung extended his hand, you placed your palm in his and he maneuvered closer to the stage. The song being played was much different from the one Jisung had been belting out in the car. This melody was sweet and slow, allowing Jisung to pull you flush against him. You swayed to the beat, your head resting against his chest, and his hands on the small of your back. Nothing else existed in the moment, it was just you and Jisung.

“See! I told you they were together!” A shrill voice exclaimed, startling you and the other attendees.

Shoving their way through the crowd was the little finance girl and the gentleman from HR. Both scowling at you and Jisung, heat flushed your cheeks as everyone turned to look. Even the band stopped playing due to the commotion.

“Now, I think I was very clear with the code of conduct” The man spoke, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Miss Smith here is correct. This certainly doesn’t look promising for you two.”

Jisung’s hand gripped your waist, keeping you tucked against his side as Mark stepped up beside him. A pretty girl you recognized as his secretary held onto his elbow while she observed the scene. “I think you might be the one who needs a refresher on the code of conduct.” Mark swirled his champagne flute.

“I-I beg your pardon Mister Lee?” The man stuttered.

“I updated the code of conduct earlier today. So, you might want a refresher before coming after one of my executives” Mark’s composure surely did not match the threat that laced his voice. “If you have any issues with them, you can take it up with me. I presume you know where my office is?”

“As for you, I’ll have Jaemin come up with something on Monday. But don’t count your blessings” He gestured to the girl from finance, Miss Smith. “Now, can we all please get back to the party?” Everyone cheered as Mark knocked back the rest of his champagne, his secretary rolled her eyes at him.

Jisung nodded his head to the door as an indication for you to follow. Hand in hand you exited the stuffy banquet hall to head outside. Taking a deep breath of the fresh night air and savoring the tinge of cold on your skin.

“I asked if he could change it.” Jisung broke the silence, his palms resting on the railing in front of him while his eyes were trained on you. “That look on your face last week. I couldn’t get it out of my head all weekend. The way you said that you’d never be with me. I hated it”

You sucked in a sharp breath as Jisung stepped closer to you “If you don’t want me, tell me to stop” his voice was as soft as his fingers when they glided across your jaw.

“Don’t stop” Your voice barely above a whisper.

That was all it took for Jisung to pull you in. His hands cupped your jaw as your lips worked in sync. His kiss was gentle and yet revealed so much of his intentions. You couldn’t help but wonder if he could feel it too. Your palms ran down his chest, settling on his hips to pull him impossibly close. A crack of thunder from above was not enough to force you apart, too engrossed in the feel of Jisung’s mouth on yours to even notice. Until the rain started. A drenching rain much like the one a few weeks ago.

Jisung’s hair stuck to his forehead, a stupid grin hung on his lips as he pulled back from you. Completely and utterly soaked in just a few moments. “I wanted to kiss you that day too” he said, as if reading your mind.

“I wanted to kiss you too” You smiled back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck before pulling him in to another kiss.

Taglist: @keemburley @pckeia @smolpeyy @jenosbliss @rioderiver @love-4-keum @studywoo @wannabeursugarbaby

#nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct fanfic #nct #nct scenarios #nct blurbs #nct x reader #nct angst #nct fluff #nct jisung #nct jisung x reader #nct dream jisung #nct dream au #nct dream icons #nct dream scenarios

298 notes · View notes

taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years

Text

Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes.

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven.

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something.

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless.

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating.

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated.

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?”

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances.

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals.

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.”

He huffs a little.

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead.

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge.

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates.

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well.

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human.

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!"

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes.

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head.

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.”

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now.

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open.

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut.

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.”

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #werewolf!jungkook #bts werewolf au #jungkook imagine #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanheadquarters #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

1K notes · View notes

nsheetee · 4 years

Text

My Hoodie

Pairing: Haechan x Reader Genre: lots of fluff!!! Length: 2.2k Details: one slightly suggestive kiss, female reader Summary: Knowing that you like to steal his clothes, Haechan plants little notes for you to discover in his hoodies and sweats. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when you return the favor.

a/n: happy birthday to fullsun!!! thank you for making our days brighter and bringing so much love to everyone around you ♡

☀︎━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☀︎

“Donghyuck…” You sing, waltzing into his room. He’s sitting at his desk chair, facing his computer monitor with a pair of headphones on, making you pout at the back of his head for his lack of attention towards you. Dropping your things onto his bed, you sneak up behind him and slide your hands down his shoulder.

“You scared me.” He jumps the second your hands touch him, momentarily taking his focus off of the game before you hear the rising shouts of his team members through his headphones to focus. “I thought you were Johnny.” He settles into your touch after you connect your hands over his chest, not caring that his friends on the other side of the headset could hear him talking.

“.... Does Johnny touch you like this a lot?” You ask, teasing your boyfriend.

“Yeah, you jealous?” He taunts back, making you roll your eyes and set your chin down on top of his head to watch him play. When his player dies and the round ends, Donghyuck sighs in defeat and throws his headset onto the desk.

“I just lost. Come console me.” He dramatically cries, opening his arms and throwing his head back with closed eyes. You giggle as you turn his desk chair and slide onto his lap, getting comfy as he wraps his arms around you. He has a black hoodie on to keep him warm, but gym shorts and white socks on his lower half that makes you snort at his comfy get up. You press a kiss to his lips, and Donghyuck traps you when you try to move away. “Console me harder!”

“Okay, but I want something in return.” You bargain.

“That’s not how this works but okay, continue.” Donghyuck blinks and nods at the same time, his thin-rimmed glasses reflecting off of the light that shines from the corner of the room.

“I want your hoodie.” You tug at the drawstrings of the mentioned article of clothing, curling your lips between your teeth.

“Go pick one out of my closet.” Donghyuck nods over to the other side of the room while squeezing your waist.

“But I want this one.” You tug at the drawstrings harder, now pouting. You’d probably never tell Donghyuck how much you love wearing his clothes. Even after over a year of dating and stealing many of his hoodies, shirts, and sweats, you’d never admit how nice it feels to wear something of his right after he has been wearing it. Even if it may seem gross to some people, you like smelling Donghyuck’s natural scent around you when you’re running late night errands, or eating out, or just being lazy on Sunday mornings.

“Fine, but I think I deserve a big kiss for this.” Donghyuck groans, standing both of you up and taking his hoodie off. His undershirt lifts up slightly and you poke at his exposed belly, making him flinch and hide his tummy while you laugh. He helps you pull the fabric over your head and down your frame, leaning in and pouting his lips comically after your head pops out.

You grant his wish, landing your lips square on his own and surprising him with the amount of fervor you kiss him with. He moans in satisfaction, allowing you to slip your tongue in between his lips just for a moment; your fingers tangle into his hair and tug gently to bring him closer. He’s left wanting more when you pull away with an innocent smile, as if you hadn’t just stuck your tongue into his mouth, and watches you bounce to his bed.

“Brat.” He calls after you, but leaves you alone as you settle down under his covers. The room turns silent once again, only the sounds of Donghyuck’s keyboard tapping and his comments to his team members filling the room.

You’re not a fool; you know that you won’t be able to pull your boyfriend away from his video games until he and his teammates are satisfied for the night. So you get comfy, plug your phone into your charger, and hug Donghyuck’s pillow as you mindlessly surf through whatever social media app you click first.

It’s not until you shift around on the bed that you feel a piece of paper in the pocket of Donghyuck’s hoodie. You’re only trying to pull down the hoodie over your thighs, but the feeling of the paper surprises you. You take it out of the pocket, blinking in surprise when you recognize your name at the top of the paper in Donghyuck’s handwriting.

“Y/N, you’re a little brat for stealing all of my hoodies and leaving me cold all the time… but you’re my little brat.”

You laugh at the message, looking towards Donghyuck’s chair to see if he noticed you giggling to yourself, but he remains entranced by his video game. You neatly fold the message and tuck it into your bag, a dumb smile lingering on your lips as you get comfortable again. Your head feels lighter with happiness and your chest almost hurts from how much your heart is beating. It truly is the littlest things with Donghyuck that make your head swirl out of pure love for him.

☀︎☀︎☀︎

“Rock, paper, scissors. Loser has to make dinner.” Donghyuck mumbles sleepily into your hair, his arms wrapped around your waist and his legs wrapped around your hips telling you that he has no plans of losing this game. Despite it being almost midnight, you and Donghyuck have only just woken up; his rehearsal ran late and he decided to crash at your place. Now, you have a tired and hungry boyfriend clinging to you, and you almost feel bad for playing scissors against his paper.

“You hate me, don’t you?” Donghyuck sniffs, digging his head further into your hair and letting out fake sobs.

“Keep this up and I’ll have to say yes to that.” Your empty threat makes Donghyuck quit his acting and sit up straight, giving you a playful glare before shimmying off the bed and leaving the room. You lay in your position for a while longer, a blissful and unaware smile on your face as you hear your boyfriend move around the kitchen. You decide to go help him before he burns something just to spite you, sitting up and looking around the room for something to wear to keep you warm.

Spotting Donghyuck’s sweats, you dart towards them and wiggle them on, shortening the length of the leg and putting your hands in the pockets to fix them, too. Much to your surprise, you feel a piece of paper in one of the pockets. Taking it out, you turn the folded secret in between your fingers, wondering if this is like the last message Donghyuck left you in his hoodie a few days ago. Curiosity beckons you to unfold the message, and a part of you expects it to be some random drawing Donghyuck made earlier today or maybe a to-do list he forgot to throw away.

However, your name is printed in his handwriting at the top, just like in the last note:

“Y/N, you know it’s weird to wear my pants, right? None of the hyungs’ girlfriends wear theirs! I know that you love my clothes, and I know you won’t ever say it out loud. So, my closet is your closet, babe.”

Despite the playful nature of this note, your heart strings are tugged and pulled by his words. There is something so innocent and all-encompassing about that one phrase: “what’s mine is yours.”

You haven’t said those three words to Donghyuck yet: “I love you.” You’ve been dating for so long and have gone over so many speed bumps in your relationship that you haven’t had the need to say “I love you” to each other, you both just…. know it already. Through actions, through what you do for each other to make your relationship work, through sticking up for one another, you know you love each other. However, now more than ever, you feel like telling Donghyuck you love him. Your actions have spoken for themselves, and now it’s time to make them audible.

You’re sure Donghyuck didn’t mean to get this deep with his note, but his sentiment shows you a part of him that he’ll never vocalize out loud. Donghyuck shows his love by sharing, whether it’s sharing his affection, his touch, his clothes, his food— he shares what’s his with those he loves. To take it a further step and say that what he owns is yours, too, makes you feel all soft and warm for the boy that is surely messing up your kitchen in the other room.

You leave his new note next to the other one you found, sitting them side by side on your desk before heading out and joining your love. You can think about Donghyuck’s unspoken and subconscious love language later. Now, it’s time to savor it in person.

☀︎☀︎☀︎

“Donghyuck-ah! You better get your butt on this dance floor before I drag you over here.” Donghyuck hears Johnny call him from across the room, the rate of dropping his things and taking off his jacket quickens at the threat from the lovable (but not always gentle) giant.

Donghyuck starts taking his phone and wallet out of his pants’ pockets to drop them down onto his backpack. In the midst of all the hurry, he sees a white paper fly out along with his phone and land peacefully on the wood floor. Donghyuck blinks at it, wondering if maybe you hadn’t seen his little note that he left in these pants a few days ago.

He picks up the piece of paper and immediately notices that this is not his own note, the heart drawn on the outside of the folded paper hinting that maybe this is a note from you. Donghyuck unfolds it, forgetting about everything his members are doing behind him, his wonder getting the better of him.

“Donghyuck, I hope you don’t really mind me stealing your clothes, I’ll be doing it for a long time~ Have a good practice, I’ll always be cheering for you.”

Donghyuck needs to go to practice. He needs to focus on the choreography he’s supposed to learn today, but he can only stare at the note silently, his hurry from before no longer present. He feels softer holding the piece of paper in his hands; he wants to fold it back up and keep it with him forever.

He started leaving notes for you in his clothes just to tease you about the fact that he knew you love wearing his things, but now he wonders if his notes had the same effect on you as your note did on him. Donghyuck takes a deep breath, an internal battle for what his next actions should be begins in his head, and then he turns to the rest of the room.

“I’m sorry.” He bows politely, regret in his voice but eagerness on his face. “I have to make a call.” The choreographers and the rest of his members look puzzled, but don’t stop Donghyuck from walking out of the dance studio with his phone. In the hallway, Donghyuck leans the back of his head against the wall and dials up your number on his phone with muscle memory. It only rings once before you answer.

“Donghyuck? Aren’t you supposed to be at practice? What’s wrong?”

“I love you.”

The words pour out of Donghyuck’s lips like he has never uttered a word in his whole life, until now. Saying the words out loud feels like putting in the last puzzle piece. He says the three short words with conviction— with adoration. All of his feelings seem like they’re pouring out of him, as if he had an unstable dam built up around his heart and those three words were the earthquake that shattered its foundation. Donghyuck’s chest tightens, his heart feels like a boa constrictor is squeezing all of the love out of it for you in this one moment.

“I love you, too.” He hears you say and the dumbest smile on his face forms, making him let out an airy laugh.

“I’m sorry I did this over the phone, but I saw your note,” Donghyuck looks down at the words you wrote to him, clutched in between his slender fingers, “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I know the feeling. Leaving notes in your clothes for me was too cute, you couldn’t be the only one doing it.” Donghyuck loves how warm your voice sounds when you talk to him, he considers skipping practice to go to your place and kiss the life out of you.

“I want to see you. Now.” He says instead, his feet itching to leave the dance studio and run to the nearest bus stop.

“No way, you need to work. You can see me tonight, and then you can tell me those words in person, too.” Donghyuck is impatient, like a child waking up at 5am on Christmas morning knowing they shouldn’t wake up their parents but still wanting their presents. He turns his shoulders, his forehead now leaning against the wall as he hides from the rest of the empty hallway.

“Okay, but you better be ready for the best cuddles of your life.”

“Oh, no. Maybe you should come now, I don’t think I can wait.” You both laugh. Donghyuck feels light-headed with tenderness for you.

“I love you.” He says again, a smile playing on his lips.

“I love you, too. Now, go work hard. I’ll be cheering for you.” The last thing Donghyuck hears is the smile in your voice and the kiss you send him through the phone before the call ends. He has to take a deep breath, not moving from his position against the wall. Donghyuck is not sure how he’ll be able to focus for the next three hours, but he drags his feet back into the room and begins practice with you on his mind and in his heart, and your note folded back up and tucked safely into his pocket.

#haechan #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #fullsunnet #haechan x reader #nct dream #nct 127 #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan fic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fics #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fic #00 line #dreamies

5K notes · View notes

ofpineapplesanddawns · 3 years

Note

this is from your prompts!

characters : Bill / Alec

situation : Stuck indoors on a rainy day

sentence : “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

hope you have a good day <3

I hope you have a good day as well, anon!

On with the fic!

Of all the days for Hardy to not have a shift, it had to be during a thunderstorm.

At least at the office, he'd be hiding in his own personal office space, with the chatter of his coworkers, the sound of phones and typing, all drowning out the sound of rain on the windows and the thunder outside. But no, he was at home.

He shouldn't let this bother him still, really, it's been years at this point, but that terrible association thing people do really sticks to you like the strongest kind of glue.

He tried to occupy his mind with headphones on, listening to an audio book he had been meaning to finish. It had worked at first, until there was a loud crack of thunder and he jumped. No, damnit, he hated this.

He set aside his phone and headphones, getting up from his bed to go find Bill. It wasn't hard, he was in his home office, typing away at his computer, completely focused on whatever it was he was working on. From the notes on the desk next to him, it was probably the stuff he had jotted down at work for his next research paper.

Hardy knocked on the door frame, catching Bill's attention. He peered up over the rim of his glasses before sitting up straight. "Oh, hey, you alright?" He asked.

"It's raining outside."

"Yes, I noticed."

"It's raining... a lot." Hardy said and Bill seemed to pick up on it. He quickly did something with his mouse before getting up, walking to the couch in the office. It wasn't necessary, it honestly took up way too much space in the small room, but it was still a nice place to sit when Hardy didn't want to be alone.

He moved to sit down next to the older man, leaning against him, head resting on his shoulder.

"Tell me what you’re thinking right now." Bill sighed against his hair.

"You know how it goes on days like this." Hardy said, keeping himself pressed against his husband. He could hear the jingling bell of the collar of their cat, somewhere nearby. He wondered in Minnie would come in here.

"You've been doing better, I've noticed."

"During lighter rains, drizzles and such. Not storms, it's still..." He clenched and unclenched his fingers a few times. "It's still a lot, you know?"

"I know, there's always that phantom feeling, or emotional reaction to something like this." Hardy knew his husband had his own share of these things, from his childhood, Hardy didn't judge him for that. Bill never judged him for this.

"Have you tried to block out the sounds?" Bill asked as Minnie walked in, meowing at them. She came up to the couch and cuddled up against Hardy, nuzzling him, as if she knew to comfort him. Good cat.

"I have, but the thunder is too loud. I've kept the blinds closed, that's helped, but the sounds are driving me fucking crazy." Hardy admitted.

"Why not stay in here with me? I'll keep you company, same with the cat, and you just try to relax a bit, alright?"

Hardy nodded, getting up to get his phone again, might as well finish the book. When he returned, Bill was sitting on the couch with his laptop now, typing away with a notebook at his side on a side table.

Sitting back down, Hardy put on the headphones, turned on the book, and closed his eyes. He could hear the narrator softly telling him the story, the clicking of Bill's fingers on the keyboard could faintly be heard, and Minnie was purring next to him, loud enough to be heard.

The sounds covered the rain, covered the rumble of thunder in the distance.

It was nice, this was good.

Minnie is from a previous one-shot, Hardy saved her from the rain and adopted her.

Also, because I've been listening to Doctor Who audio books narrated by David earlier today while I was doing work in my room, this whole one-shot was narrated by him in my head as I wrote.

#moving forward au #illogical husbands #masters of sex #broadchurch #alec hardy #bill masters #john's drabbles #good omens extended universe

15 notes · View notes

dumbikawa · 3 years

Text

Being Stressed About Exams & HQ Boys Comforting You

GN!Reader | Comfort/Fluff | Warnings: stressed reader

Characters: Atsumu, Oikawa

A/n: This is extremely self-indulgent as school has been kicking my butt and the future post-graduation is very terrifying lol

ATSUMU

You stare at the computer in front of you, the text you’re supposed to read for class beginning to swim together as your eyes fill with tears. Everything is happening too fast and you feel completely unprepared to take any of it on. What if you spent all of this time and money on schooling only to fail so close to the end? What if you finally do finish, but then can’t find a job in your field? Should you have studied something else? The questions become more exhausting and constant the closer it gets to exams.

Small droplets roll off your cheeks and begin to pool on your keyboard. You haphazardly wipe them away before powering off the computer and tucking it back in your bag. Out of sight, out of mind, you figure. It’s not like there’s any use in trying to finish it tonight when you can already feel another wave of stress induced tears coming on. Those have also become a regular thing.

You click the volume button on your phone so that the sounds of music fill the room before leaning back in the desk chair, testing the limits of how far you can recline before gravity takes over. Atsumu had made this study playlist for you when he first noticed how stressed you were. It contained a mixture of your favorite songs, his favorite songs, and a few ‘motivational’ songs he pulled from his work-out playlists. It was a bit of a weird Frankenstein mash up with the large variety of genres, but it quickly became one of your studying must haves.

Over the sound of the music, you couldn’t hear the shower click off and the door to the bathroom swinging open. When Atsumu steps out, he sees you sitting where he’d left you, although, in a more dangerous position than you’d been in before as he notices the way the desk char teeters back and forth. His attention is quickly caught by the music choice, though, recognizing one of the songs playing as a favorite of his he added to the playlist he made for you a couple weeks ago. A smile breaks through his face as he hurriedly jumps into a pair of sweatpants before approaching your quiet figure.

As he comes up behind you, though, he notices a slight glisten upon your cheeks and a few fresh tears that tumble from your closed eyes. His upturned lips quickly sink as worry floods through him. Exams had been taking a toll on you, it wasn’t hard to tell, but he would never get used to seeing you cry.

“Baby,” he whispers, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “What can I do for ya? Food? Cuddles? Cry it out?” You nod, resting the chair back on the ground and practically launching yourself into his arms.

Atsumu catches you with ease, his strong arms holding you against his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine, sending shivers racing down you back, but there's no ulterior motive to his gentle touches. He continues the soft touches as he guides you to the bed, only letting you go for a second before allowing you to bury yourself in his side again.

“What if I can’t do it?” you whisper, trailing your fingers across Atsumu's toned chest. “I’ve studied for so long, but what if it doesn’t work out? What if--What if I don’t actually know anything and I crash and burn and--”

Atsumu shushes you gently, placing a few comforting kisses to your forehead. He notices your breathing beginning to grow heavier as your anxiety takes over. There's a few moments of silence as you try to match your breathing to his, the two of you taking slow, deep breaths in sync.

“The future might be unsure and stressful, but I know you’re going to do your best and make it work. All you can do is continue to work towards your goals and handle everything as it comes. Not to mention, I’m always going to be here to remind you of how strong you are even if you don’t see it.”

A new wave of tears begins as his words echo through your ears. You bury your face in his chest as your arms wrap around his waist in an attempt to pull yourself as close to him as you physically can be. Somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear and a part of you wonders if he’s ever repeated those sentiments to himself when things felt unsure.

He continues to whisper reassurances as you fully relax against him, your tears finally beginning to dry up. You lift your head and offer him a weak smile.

“Thanks for letting me cry on your abs,” you sniffle, allowing yourself to truly laugh.

Atsumu feels lighter as he watches you smile and joke, hopefully being able to forget about the more stressful parts of life for a while as he holds you close. There’s been countless times where you eased his worries about the future, so he’s just happy that he can return the favor and create a safe space where you’re allowed to simply be.

OIKAWA

The cup in your hand is warm and comforting as you trudge towards your bedroom, a sense of dread washing over you as soon as your eyes land upon the laptop you left sitting open on the bed. With finals coming up, you thought it would be a good idea to transfer the notes you had written down during lectures onto your computer, figuring it would make them easier to access and that the process of going back through the information would be a good way to ensure you remember the material.

What you didn’t realize, however, is how absolutely time consuming and exhausting it was going to be. Your neck hurts from constantly looking back and forth between the paper and computer screen, your back hurts because somewhere along the way you abandoned any semblance of healthy posture and decided to go full cave gremlin in the way you hunched over your work, and instead of absorbing the information for a second time it seemed as if your brain had completely abandoned you and gone on autopilot. Shoving the computer off the bed and taking a nap feels like the best course of action right now, but you know if you stop now there’s no way you’re going to want to finish later.

Begrudgingly, you settle back onto the bed and take a large swig of coffee before stretching your fingers and placing them back on the keyboard. It couldn’t take that much longer right? All you have to do is push through and get it done.

And, for the next few hours, that’s what you do. You jump back in where you left off and race through the next few, gruelingly long chapters. The daylight outside quickly dwindles away until you’re forced to turn on the bedside lamp when you realize the sun has sunk far below the horizon and is beginning to cast bizarre shadows around the room. It was no bother, though, because you’re so close to being done. The issue is that neither your brain nor your body could keep up anymore.

Your fingers keep hitting the wrong keys, typing made up words that have you constantly backspacing and starting sentences over again for a third of even a fourth time. The breaking point comes when you go to take a sip of your now cold coffee and look back at the screen after attempting to type an entire paragraph from your notes in one go. Little did you know your finger placement was off, yet again, and the entire paragraph is an unreadable mess that even spell check doesn’t want to touch.

The tears that sting your eyes make you feel stupid. It was entirely too dumb to cry over something as superficial as misspellings that could be easily fixed and cold coffee. But once the tears start they won’t stop. Suddenly, you’re not crying over the notes or even school work in general. You’re crying about the crushing weight of change that's soon to come once you finish with classes and how impossible everything has begun to feel.

You’re too exhausted to focus on anything anymore, letting the hot tears run down your cheeks freely, which is why you don’t hear the rushed footsteps of your boyfriend who could hear your hiccuping breaths from down the hall.

He doesn’t say anything when he sees you curled up on the bed, your face buried in your arms. Oikawa sits on the ground closest to you and lays his head near yours as he begins to run his slender fingers through your hair. It doesn't take a psychic to tell you've been stressed with the quickly approaching exams, and from the collection of notes littered all around to the half closed computer the dots practically connect themselves.

The slight dip on the bed near your head alerts you to his presence, but you don't move. His hands guiding themselves over your scalp is quick to relax your body, but your mind feels like it's about to burst any moment as the thoughts continue to race.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers against your temple, planting soft kisses after every word, “and you deserve to take a break. Remember when you used to have to tell me that all the time?" The feeling of his quiet laughter against your skin makes you smile, along with the memories of simpler times before either of you had barely begun to grasp how harsh the world could be.

"I picked up dinner for us, it was an apology for coming home late," he admits, kissing the top of your head. "But let's go heat it up and you can either tell me everything you're worried about or we can try to forget all about it for now and watch a movie. I'd really like it if you talked about it eventually, though. I know I'm not going to be able to fix it all, but that doesn't mean I can't try."

You turn your head to the side, exposing your tear stained cheeks that are quickly wiped away by Oikawa's calloused thumbs.

"I will," you say, voice heavy. "For now could you just hold me?" There isn't a second of hesitation as Oikawa slips his arms beneath your figure and presses you tightly against him.

"Movie it is," he announces, laying you on the couch with the remotes so that you could put on whatever you want. Your brain would never stop the constant anxious thoughts, but losing yourself in those chocolate brown eyes made it easy to imagine a future where it all works out somehow. Little do you know, Oikawa sees the same thing reflected in your eyes as he wonders about the right time, perhaps a couple years from now when you've both settled down in your careers, when he can finally buy that ring he's been looking at.

103 notes · View notes

whumpshaped · 3 years

Text

Snap

The Institution Masterlist

trigger warnings: forced to perform, blood, humiliation, shame, guilt, manipulation, power dynamics

Saint-Saëns piano concerto number two. One of the conductor’s favourites, something they made the orchestra perform regularly. Venetia was impossibly well suited to play it, though she hated all the attention it brought to her during and after the performance. Audience members would flock to her to congratulate her on the amazing show she’d put on, how her delicate hands managed to draw that robust sound from the piano.

She would always disappear afterwards. Spending half an hour playing the demanding piece and then an hour making small talk with fans of the institution that had ruined her life was not an easy task.

Alyson kept her eyes on her, always happier to follow along with Via than the conductor. It was another useless act of defiance, to avoid looking at them whenever she could. The conductor didn’t make a single sound anyway, almost completely ignoring them was a way better option than ignoring the pianist. Besides, Via wasn’t a horrible monster.

The most stressful part of any piece wasn’t the fact that she had to play her own part, but that the entire section relied on her to lead. It would’ve been a much lighter weight on Winter’s shoulders, probably, or anyone who didn’t care about the others as much as Alyson did. The role of the concertmaster always felt like a double-edged sword to her. On one hand, she had the power to try and protect the others, but on the other, one failed cue and she could’ve made the entire section fall apart. Rushing to catch up with the soloist was never a fun experience, and under the insane amount of pressure, some violinists just panicked and shut off.

The last notes of the first movement were as dramatic as ever, and Alyson was sure that one day the conductor’s arms would cramp up with the way they tried to bring the most out of it. The thought always made the performance a little more bearable.

The second movement was light and happy, but somehow a little unsettling. Venetia’s fingers were bouncing on the keyboard like a joyous fawn out on the open fields. She was in her element, lost in the moment of pure ecstasy as she played her favourite part. She made it look so effortless, like it was mere child’s play. They slowly trailed into the third and last movement, and she raised her hands to slam down on the keys. Alyson raised her bow, feeling the eyes of the other violinists almost burn a hole in her back. Winter softly gasped next to her just before the first down-bow, like he always did. It was a habit that Holdyn managed to pick up during their quartet rehearsals, always so damn eager to conform that he inadvertently ended up copying useless little things like that.

Everything was going smoothly, just as it was supposed to. The violins were buzzing like a swarm of tiny bugs, keeping up with the tempo Venetia was dictating. And then, in the middle of a passage, the E string on Alyson’s violin snapped, slashing the skin across her face, and more importantly, slashing across her left eye. Without thinking, she immediately turned to Winter, and he didn’t even hesitate switching violins with her. He didn’t bat an eye when he saw the blood trickling down her face, he just passed the useless violin on, taking the third violinist’s instrument to play on.

The audience gasped when they realized it wasn’t just the usual snap of the strings, but the music didn’t stop, with Venetia and most of the others completely unaware of the accident. Alyson could feel the warm liquid soak the thin cloth on her chinrest, but she didn’t want to allow that to ruin the performance. Squeezing one of her eyes shut, she tried to push through until there were rests, but the stinging in her eye proved to be more distracting than she anticipated.

She grit her teeth and tried to focus on the notes in front of her, though she couldn’t help but feel like this was the accident that would cause the section to fall to pieces. It was going to be all her fault, and the conductor was going to be furious with them, ruining a show in front of a whole audience.

Winter elbowed her in the ribs, and she turned towards him. He nodded towards the curtains on the side of the stage, and she realized she might have to give up her seat if she wanted to save the performance. She could run off and leave Winter in charge of the section, with the full knowledge that he always practised her parts as well, specifically for emergencies like this. There was no time to think about it and properly weigh her options, and her instinct to take control in every single situation she found herself in proved to be stronger than her trust in Winter. She turned back towards her music stand, almost immediately messing up the whole section’s entry and throwing off Venetia.

She couldn’t even see Winter’s reaction because off the slash across her left eye, but she didn’t have to. The conductor stopped them, leaving the piece incomplete, and Alyson feeling like the biggest failure to ever be appointed concertmaster. She’d made the wrong choice, because she didn’t want to listen to Winter out of pure spite. Her face was burning with shame, and she couldn’t make herself meet Via’s eyes as she turned around to see what was going on. She clutched her cloth and pressed it against her eye, smudging the blood further.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Winter hissed, and for once, Alyson didn’t have a witty comeback. He was right. Confused murmurs ran through the crowd, and the conductor gestured her to finally stand up and leave the stage.

On the other side, Holdyn just managed to catch a fleeting glance of her face as she stood up, his breath hitching when he saw the blood. He tried to get Winter’s attention, but he was busy explaining the situation to the other violinists.

Nobody knew what to do. Alyson had never left the stage early. The conductor had never just… stopped them in the middle of a piece.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that due to an unexpected accident, we cannot continue performing tonight. Our concertmaster needs medical attention, and I’m sure you all understand that the health of our students is of utmost priority. We will issue a full refund…”

Holdyn was getting restless, bouncing his leg as he waited for that stupid, fake monologue to end. He looked over at Juniper, and he finally received an answer to his question when she demonstrated a string snapping using her viola. She dragged her finger across her left eye, and Holdyn suddenly felt dizzy.

That stupid string didn’t blind her, did it?

“For the students,” Holdyn snapped out of it and looked back at the conductor, eager to finally run off and find Alyson. “please go back to your rooms.”

What?

No.

Holdyn stood up and put his cello away, determined to slip away in the midst of the chaos. But of course, nothing was ever that easy.

“You’re walking towards the wrong exit. I can only assume it’s because you’re so shaken up that you got a little confused, hm?” Holdyn stopped and closed his eyes in defeat as he felt Winter’s hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t we walk back together?”

“Winter, please, I’ll go straight to our room after, I just-”

“The conductor just had to stop a concert midway because of your precious friend. We’re not getting in any more trouble because of her. Yeah?” It was horribly unsettling, the way he kept his tone so light while his gaze darkened. Holdyn swallowed and nodded, following him obediently to the other exit.

“I-Is she… is she okay?”

“Honestly? I couldn’t care less.”

“Can’t you just answer me normally for once?” Holdyn snapped, mostly out of fear and desperation, and he immediately regretted it. “Sorry, I didn’t… I’m just worried-”

“Awful brave of you, considering Alyson is probably not gonna be around for the next couple days.” Winter didn’t even stop walking, nor did he spare him a glance. The implications of that were clear enough on their own. There was nowhere to run in that tiny room, and Holdyn wasn’t one whose appearance had to be perfectly maintained. No one would punish Winter if he decided to slap him around a bit. But if that was the case anyway, what would it matter if he made it even worse?

“Even if Alyson isn’t alright, that won’t make you the next concertmaster,” he said firmly, finally making Winter stop and turn around. “And if- if you do become the next concertmaster, the orchestra will plummet, because no one likes you, and no one will want to follow someone like you!”

“Is that so?” A shiver ran down Holdyn’s spine, but he stood his ground as Winter walked up to him. “Do you like the conductor, Holdyn?”

“N-No-”

“Do you follow them?”

Holdyn swallowed and nodded, unable to look away from him.

“See? I don’t need anyone’s approval. People follow those in authority.” Winter grabbed the boy’s face at precisely the right moment to prevent him from finally backing down. “You should know that better than anyone, constantly following me and Alyson around like a lost puppy. Why didn’t you go see your little friend? Just because I told you not to? Does that mean you actually like me, and want to follow me? Or does that just make you a fucking hypocrite?” Holdyn held his breath for several long moments before Winter finally let go of him and he could step away. “I hate when brats like you try to act tough. It’s pathetic.”

“I-I’m sorry…” he muttered, thoroughly humbled and humiliated.

Winter smirked, turning around without another word and snapping his fingers to get Holdyn’s attention. When the boy realized he was about to get left behind, he rushed to catch up, face burning with embarrassment at the thought that he really was acting like some dog. A stupid, lost puppy, barking up the wrong damn tree.

#the bad chronicles #the institution #alyson #holdyn #winter #venetia #juniper

14 notes · View notes

funtimebunnyblog · 4 years

Text

Me: *receives this request*

Me: *sips my 3rd coffee of the day from my raccoon mug in the pitch dark of my room*

Me: My time has come...

Pillarmen (separate) with a coffee addicted, sarcastic, career focused s/o (who doesn’t get enough sleep)...

(under the cut for length!)

Kars:

"Have you eaten today?" The Pillarmen questioned you, looming over your desk in the dark of your Office.

"Yes." You answered simply, not bothering to tear your eyes from the laptop screen or the sea of words it held sitting before you. Kars however knew better than to leave it at just that, folding his arms across his chest as he cocked an eyebrow.

Kars frowned to himself as his eyes took in your workspace, trying not to focus on the fact that was littered with disorganized papers, food wrappers and a few empty mugs.

He would never let his desk degenerate into something even close to this mess.

"Alright. What did you eat?"

Kars clicked his tongue, letting out the sigh he knew he was going to make upon making the decision to check in on you in the first place. He had known very well this conversation would be steered into a direction like this.

A silence fell over the room, your the clicking of keyboard keys stalling for the briefest second before resuming.

"Coffee." Came the answer.

"Coffee is NOT a meal." He said curtly.

"I know it's not a meal, it's a vegetable." You replied without missing a single beat.

He pursed his lips, "Now what makes you say that?"

"It came from beans."

"Something to eat first, then you may finish your work. And then it's straight to bed with you." He ordered, carrying you downstairs to the kitchen. It was late and he knew that if he didn't set these boundaries you would be hunched over, typing away at your messy little desk all hours of the night.

Without another word you were picked up out of your office chair like nothing more than a common house cat and thrown over his shoulder, the massive man rolled his eyes as you whined that you had only a couple more pages to do and you were trying to finish.

He ignored your protests as much as he disregarded the sluggish pounds of your fists on his backside.

Needless to say, he didn't want a repeat of last time that happened. Coffee and redbull brew was a potent mixture he wanted to keep out of your reach from now on, no matter how tired you claimed to be.

"Ok, Mom." You bit back, finally giving up on your futile squirming for the night. You shot him your best glare as he set you down on the kitchen counter, the rings under your bleary eyes only becoming more prominent as he once again ignored your words and your stare, getting right into fixing you something quick to eat.

Kars wasn't a person to be spoken to in that way by anyone (they never usually lived long enough to get such remarks out) but you were much different of course. In fact, your sharp tongue was easily matched by his quick wit; it only made you an even stronger pair to be reckoned with in his opinion.

With only a quirk of his lips as a response to your sarcastic quip, a cookie was shoved into your mouth.

"Here. Perhaps this will sweeten up your sour, my child." He said, now fully getting on your level as he busied himself making you a sandwich.

A smile curled at the corners of your full mouth as you chewed away, your demeanor just a little lighter as sweet chocolate goodness tickled your senses. However, chocolate did little to coat the silver of your tongue.

"Bite me." You spat playfully, a few crumbs escaping your lips along with the words.

"You know better than to threaten me with a good time, dearest." Kars responded, not even lifting his eyes from the cutting board as he sliced away at a cucumber.

You nearly choked on the sweet you were savoring as you doubled over in laughter, making Kars smile to himself in triumph.

Esidisi:

"What are you doing?" Esidisi watched you with curious interest as you began to depart from the kitchen, just seconds after making your entrance, the entire pot of black coffee he had just prepared in your hand.

The steaming pot of rich and buzzing Caffeine was snatched from your grasp in a fraction of a second, you blinked to find squirming tendrils of veins spiriting it away back to your Husband.

"I'm flipping oyster burgers for the King of Spain, what does it look like?" You asked without even a thought, an impressive feat as it seemed like you were mere seconds away from falling over.

Disheveled wasn't even a word to describe your appearance. Your hair in disarray and wearing the same clothes as you had yesterday; you looked like you had been put through the ringer not once but a few times.

"Hey!" You cried, fully turning on him. It only made the smirk at the corner of his mouth grow as you advanced on him, stomping angrily as you went; inevitably you were only making yourself more adorable in his eyes. "Give that back! I need to get some work done!"

Taking the entire pot with you was the most elegant solution in your eyes rather than coming back downstairs every so often to refill your mug. You definitely needed the quantity of this pot if you wanted to stay awake any longer to complete your workload.

"Ah ah ah, not so fast little oyster flipper!" He laughed, holding the pot far out of your reach and pushing you at arms length as you attempted to make a grab for it.

Esidisi was always amused by your fiery determination when it came down to your work and the lengths you went through to get it done but he knew when enough was enough.

"What I want to know is, did you get any sleep last night?" He questioned, a bare brow raising; a look betraying his genuine concern for you in the midst of his jest.

The Pillarman was not going to let you take the pot of coffee all the way back to your office to chug like an oversized movie soda as you pushed through more piles of papers. You had been up there practically three days straight, basically just surviving on the stuff at this point.

If you weren't going to take care of yourself, he supposed he'd just have to do it for you.

"Er... uh..."

You blinked slowly, the raw stinging of your eyes didn't quite help you in forming a convincing response.

You could've swore you nodded off once, maybe twice, at your desk sometime in the middle of the night but you weren't sure for how long exactly. It probably didn't even come close to qualifying as "sleep" in terms of rest.

"Mm-hmm. That's what I thought." He hummed, putting the pot of coffee back in its rightful place. A sound of surprise managed to escape your lips as he picked you up, carrying you out of the kitchen like you were nothing more than a toddler.

"Wh-Where are we going?" You questioned, blinking stupidly and trying to recover from your slight shock.

"Hmm, not Spain. Sorry, you won't be flipping any burgers today, my little spit-fire." He responded, his tone fluid enough to rival your second-nature sarcasm.

Your lips came together, squirming in his hold as you connected the dots. "I can't go to bed! I still have woooork!" You whined, pushing against him as if that would do anything in his powerful grasp. "I'm not tired!"

"Really? Oh, you could've fooled me." He chuckled, the rumbling of his chest against yours only making sleepy shivers dance through your body.

"I just need some coffee! That's all, c'mon!"

"No more coffee for you. You drank enough to last you a fortnight, yesterday."

He was so warm and comfortable, a much better feeling than any sized mug of coffee you could guzzle down would leave you; your fidgeting had come to a complete stop without you realizing it.

"I just..." You were cut off by a yawn forcing its way out of you. "...just a few more... p-papers..."

"Not today you're not." He chided softly, a hand rubbing tender little circles into your back with heated fingers. You knew that he knew it was only making you more sleepy (not to mention more frustrated) by the second. "You're having a sleep, something proper to eat later and a shower and then you can work and drink all the coffee you want."

Just a few more papers. Just a few more papers.... Just a few more papers.... Just... a few... more...

By the time Esidisi had reached the top of the stairs, your struggle had ceased all together and you had fallen limp in his arms; completely and utterly asleep.

The litany in your head fell silent as your eyelids drooped, losing yourself in the warmth of your Husbands embrace as the swaying of his movement rocked you as he walked along.

So many cheeky things you wanted to say died like flickering embers in your brain, unable to escape your lips this time.

Wamuu:

"Beloved?" The Warrior pushed open the door to your office, peering into the dark room with a frown. "Are you in here?"

"No. I'm on the Moon." Your voice (sounding a little worn but still holding that familiar pinch of playfulness) cut through the dark, coming right from your desk where you were hunched over and drawing away; the dim light from your tablet was the only thing cutting through the shadows of your cave.

He couldn't help but notice it was the exact spot he had left you when he departed early this morning to go do some training.

Warm, golden light shrouded you and your cluttered desk area, making you blink in surprise. You hadn't really realized that it had gotten dark at all and for the briefest of seconds you wondered how late exactly it had gotten; you shook your head quickly as you regained your focus on your work.

Nonetheless, Wamuu smiled softly and entered your workspace. It was an easy feat for the Pillarman to make his way through despite the darkness cloaking the room as he had most excellent night vision.

However, upon reaching your side, he reached over and flicked on your table lamp. He knew that the dark wasn't exactly doing your Human vision much good.

"Thank you." You mumbled, swiping your digital pen across the screen with slow and careful movements.

Wamuu hummed softly, leaning over you with a curious eye to see your work better.

"That looks very nice." He commented, the corners of his full lips tugging into a sweet smile as he admired your handiwork. You never ceased to amaze him with your little drawings and sketches.

You needed to get this piece done by the weekend and you wanted it done today so it could be out of your way. Each slip up of your hand or a line only made you feel more exhausted and more picky, lines overlapped and blurred and you could no longer take in the picture anymore; just your mistakes and its flaws.

A tired sigh escaped your lips, "I just can't get the shading right. I think I've had to redo it 8 times now..." you grumbled, only getting increasingly frustrated at the setback, a hand unconsciously reaching up to scrub at your eye.

Your eyeballs were starting to burn from focusing on the screen too long, a feeling much akin to being rubbed raw with sandpaper.

"Have you been drawing all day?" He questioned, turning his gaze down to the crown of your head with worry.

The Warriors smile fell as he took in your awry state more closely, he definitely didn't miss the umpteen mugs of coffee littering your space (some of which were only half-finished and long gone cold by now).

Did you even move at all while he had been gone? When was the last time you showered? Ate? Changed your clothes?

Really it was the best answer you could give, all you knew was that it was dark and you were sore and tired and your hand was cramping... so it was more than likely you had spent the entirety of the day working.

Once again, your movements stalled before slowly regaining focus, your movements slothy and lacking your usual grace.

"I guess..." you answered lamely.

Again.

Wamuu shook his head, you had been drawing all night last night and you had promised to go to bed after he kissed you goodbye this morning. It was obvious you forgot your promise and kept working.

The drawing tablet was easily plucked from your grasp, making you jump in surprise and reflexively make a grab for it.

"Wamuu-- wha--?!"

"This won't do." He said, quickly hitting the save button on your piece of art as he pulled the tablet further from your reach. "You're done for today."

"What? No! I--" You made an attempt to snatch it back but the hulking man wasn't having any of it, gazing down at you with stern double-ringed emeralds.

For now, he was taking matters into his own hands.

"No. You've worked far too long. Look at you beloved, you've become nothing but a shell!" He chastised, walking past you and placing your tablet on the highest shelf of your office; far, far from your reach.

You would only get it back once you were rested and cared for.

He pushed open the bathroom door with careful ease, not even struggling as he held you and set you down on the toilet.

You were picked up with ease, cradled in the Warriors arms like he was rescuing you from the battlefield as he marched out of the room. Your whines and cries and pleas to be put down went ignored, even as you pounded weakly on his chest.

You had originally thought he was taking your straight to the bedroom to put you down for a sleep but no, he walked right past the room without even a passing glance.

"Sit there." He told you, pressing a tender kiss to your head; the softness of his actions rendering you silent. "Let me handle this."

Your previous protests, your frustrations and any and all thoughts to your work had died all together by the time you two had stripped and were sitting comfortably in the warm scented water.

You blinked, watching him as he puttered around the bathroom; filling the tub with warm water and adding a generous portion of your favorite bathsoap, making a luscious and soothing scent fill the air and your senses.

A warm bath together would do you both some good, he was a little rumpled from training all day himself and you were worn down from your own work. Wamuu always enjoyed washing your hair and bathing together was always a good de-stressor in his eyes.

"You're too persuasive," you remarked, the words coming out as more of a sigh as he combed his fingers through your damp hair.

You hated to admit it but this was just what you needed; you could literally feel all the stress and overwork just washing away with the water rolling over you.

Wamuu chuckled softly, squeezing some of your favourite shampoo into his huge palm. "And You're negligent of your own needs. But don't worry, that's why I'm here..."

Santana:

"You are tired."

"I'm not tired!" You groaned, the exasperation in your voice was short-lived as the corners of your lips quirked up into a teeny grin. "...I'm y/n."

Santana tilted his head, pursing his lips. Usually you would chuckle at his obvious confusion (Santana still couldn't quite grasp puns and dry humor like sarcasm well, despite it being something you used more than often) but today you were too busy to sit down and explain it, let alone spend any time with him.

You still had work to pick at upstairs and judging by how things were going, you weren't going to be done anytime soon.

It didn't help the fact that Santana was becoming increasingly worried about you; he had caught you pouring yourself a bowl of orange juice and a glass of cereal this morning when you begrudgingly trudged downstairs for breakfast. The growling of your stomach neglecting its needs had become too unbearable.

Either way; you weren't going to let the fact you haven't seen a bed (or a fresh change of clothes) in days stop you.

"I just need to get some work done, Santana..." you sighed, emptying the pot of coffee into your mug. "I have a deadline at the end of the week."

"Sleep is for the weak." You replied, bringing the steaming mug to your lips for the first sip.

"You have not slept in days." He pointed out, the deep timber of his voice rumbling around the room. You could feel his eyes staring into your back as you fumbled around the kitchen.

Damn him for being so perceptive.

"Your kind is very weak." Came the immediate and factual response. "You require sleep to function and survive."

Like it or not, he was spitting straight facts.

You nearly choked on the gulp of hot liquid, it burned in your throat as his words hit you. Your mate watched as you opened your mouth and fumbled with a response to conteract that statement; ultimately having nothing.

It was always hard to argue when you felt so sluggish, your brain running just as well as an old windows computer, let alone when Santana stood there blinking so innocently.

You groaned, shuffling out of the room; mug in hand and the migrane you had been trying to rid of slowly regaining its pounding pulse in your temples.

"Oh honey, I'll be fine..." you whined, trying to ignore his eyes still watching you as you began your slothy trek up the stairs. "I may be a 'Primitive lifeform' but I can handle a little work."

The Pillarman watched you go, frowning to himself as you disappeared up the stairs; the hard shut of the door to your office the only sound following your exit.

Your energy was very low, he had only seen you eat a handful of times and it seemed like you were running into walls and doors more often than the average Human lately.

Santana was getting worried.

The hours of the morning ticked bye, eventually Noon rolled around and then passed and you didn't come down for lunch (or more coffee). The primal instincts of protecting you as his mate inevitably kicked in and Santana found himself at the door to your office, peering in with a curious eye.

There he was met with the sight of you slumped over at your desk, your back rising and falling slowly and rhythmically. The sounds of your soft breath hit his sharp ears, even from all the way across the room, and he found himself wandering in, coming right up beside you where you lay crumpled.

You stirred slightly, making his hair stand on end as a groan barely passed your lips before you settled down again, resuming your quiet snoring.

Upon further inspection he found your eyes were closed, cheek smooshed right against the wood of the desk and papers sticking uncomfortably to your face. Even your pen was still gripped in hand.

His eyes skimmed over some loose papers, nothing but meaningless words and numbers scrawled across the white without rhyme and reason to him but always it held some deeper meaning to you; your supposed work.

Your coffee had barely been touched, gone cold and sitting quite forlorn among the foodwrappers and empty water bottles and papers scattered across your workspace. Santana reached for the mug, sniffing curiously at the coal black liquid sloshing around inside. Throughout all the time he had known you, you always had a strange attachment to this drink; you claimed it was what kept you functioning.

Curiosity got the best of him and he brought it to his lips for a taste, wondering the exact appeal of it. He shuddered, growling, almost spitting the shallow mouthful of it out and turning his head away as the bitter and cold liquid overwhelmed his senses as it slipped down his throat...

Disgusting.

He brought the mug to his mouth again, unable to stop himself as he dove in for his second taste; doing the very same thing as before.

Not bad, actually.

The red-haired Pillarman pulled the mug close a third time, throwing his head back gulping back the liquid as if his life depended on it. Licking his lips and blinking rapidly, he cradled the now empty mug to his bare chest as his nostrils flared and toes curled, riding out the waves of it overpowering his senses.

It was so terrible but so good at the same time; so good he didn't want it to end but so terrible he wished the bitter and overpowering aftertaste would leave his tongue.

He turned his attention back to you, with a tilt of his head. You were still sleeping, nonethewiser to his very presence; it was likely you would stay that way for some time.

With only a moments thought he shuffled out of the room quickly, returning just moments later with a blanket and pillow in tow.

You needed your sleep to function, as he had told you, so he would leave you to it as he went downstairs to prepare more of that delicious "coffee" for when you woke.

With all the carefulness in the world, a massive hand slipped under you, lifting your face just inches off the had desk as he slipped the cushy pillow under you and let you down softly.

Gently, he draped the blanket over your back before leaning down, smoothing your hair and pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

He planned on having another mug himself.

Or two mugs.

Or five.

Or maybe three pots worth...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #pillarmen headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

164 notes · View notes

solarwonux · 4 years

Text

Sugar || Wonwoo

gamer!wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 2.2k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fluff

note: this is one of my fav one shots I have written lol, its so cute and fluffy and honestly who does not love gamer!wonwoo!!!! Anyway, I hope you like this one it is one of my older ones but a good one (i think), let me know your thoughts <3

drabble game || masterlist

You could hear Wonwoo cursing in his office at his computer screen for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, driving you insane. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded, watching him react to the game he was playing was one of your favorite sources of entertainment. And It was no wonder people tuned in twice a week to watch him play while he streamed.

But tonight, you were due to finish your senior thesis and the words weren’t coming in. You had spent all day working around your apartment, turning over sentences in your head as you thought of ways to finish off your thesis. But when you had sat down in front of your coffee table to finally begin writing after finishing all the chores you had tasked yourself in doing. Your mind went blank. You had spent the following hours writing and rewriting growing even more frustrated when you realized that you had hit a wall.

Slamming your laptop shut, you rested your head on top of your coffee table, tracing over the lines in the wood with your index finger. Listening to Wonwoo’s laughter as he continued talking to his webcam, cursing whenever something didn’t go his way. You sighed wishing you weren’t contemplating barging into the office and pulling out the power chord to his gaming set up, as a means to silence him. Though you knew it would just lead to a fight and as annoyed as you were, that was the last thing you wanted.

Sighing, you got up from your spot on the floor and walked slowly to the office and gently knocked on the door. You wrapped your cardigan around your torso tightly while you waited for him to open it. You knew asking him to keep it down was useless, considering that it hadn't worked before, but you were out of options.

“Yes, baby.” Wonwoo smiled at you widely once he had finished opening the door. His headset around his neck, his round glasses slowly sliding off the bridge of his nose and his hair sticking up in places he had tugged on out of frustration.

“How long are you gonna stay on tonight?” You leaned up running a delicate hand through his hair attempting to fix it.

“Not sure…Seungcheol on too and we just started playing this new game that came out.” He finished pushing his glasses up his nose. “Why, what’s wrong?” He reached over smoothing over the creases that had formed between your brows.

“Umm…it’s nothing.” You shook your head. “But could you at least try to keep it down a little.” You pouted forming prayer hands in front of you. Wonwoo chuckled and pecked your lips softly. “I’ll try, have you finished your thesis yet?”

“Almost.” You smiled widely, hating yourself for lying to him, knowing that if you had told him the truth, he would’ve shut down the game and sat with you until you finished. And you couldn’t do that to him knowing how excited he got for his streams. Remembering how he kept tabs on comments that he’d find funny just so he’d be able to tell you about them later.

“Does that mean you’ll come sit with me when you finish.” He rubbed soothing circles on your chin as he looked down at you with that certain look you could never say no too. “Mhm.” You nodded and pecked his nose making him scrunch it up. “Now go before someone thinks you’ve gone missing.” You shoved him into the room lightly making him laugh.

“Impossible, they know I’m with my crazy, beautiful, sexy, cool girlfriend.” He winked at you as he sat down in his gaming chair, throwing you a kiss as he put on his headset again. You closed the door shaking your head, sighing in frustration as you leaned your forehead against it. Wishing you didn’t care and support Wonwoo’s hobby that had quickly turned into his second job as much as you did.

Knowing you weren’t going to get anywhere with your thesis, you decided to go take a shower. Hoping the hot water hitting your tense muscles will help clear the whirlwind going on in your head.

Feeling a lot lighter after your shower you wrapped a towel around your body. You walked out of your fogged-up bathroom and went to your dresser sitting down. Grabbing your body butter and lathering it around on your legs slowly kneading out the tension, then doing the same to the rest of your body. Once you finished you picked up your towel that had fallen onto the floor and before you could wrap it around yourself again, Wonwoo cursed loudly causing you to jump. You sighed and stormed out of your bedroom, opening up the door to the office and throwing your towel angrily at him.

“What the hell baby?” He exclaimed, jumping slightly from his chair angrily clicking on his computer mouse. “I’m in the middle of a game.” He groaned doing a double-take the second he realized you were standing naked with your hands on your waist in the doorway. You watched as he nervously scrambled taking off his headset and covering his webcam with his hands as quickly as possible, his going wide. “What are you doing, go put on some clothes.” He yelled, whispering.

“I asked you to keep it down…why are you being so loud today?” You said moving your arms around before bringing them to settle on to your hips again.

Wonwoo swallowed and looked down at his computer monitor, you could hear the gunshots from the game and Seungcheol calling out for Wonwoo telling him he needed back up. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…but you can’t just barge in here lookin’ like that.” He stared at you, his bottom lip slowly making its way in between his teeth as he looked over you slowly.

“Why not, they can’t see me.” You challenged stepping into the room. Wonwoo walked back tripping over his gaming chair as he tried to keep his hands on the webcam. “Well now they can’t, I’m covering it.” He retorted, his body at an awkward angle as you stood right in front of the monitor. “Maybe it’s a good thing they see, it’ll teach you to listen to me when I tell you things.” You said putting your hand over his hand feeling his hold on the webcam tighten. “Bet Seungcheol will listen to me if I was standing in front of him like this.” You whispered giving him a sultry look before running out of the room giggling.

You stood outside the hallway with your back against the wall as you listened to Wonwoo frantically try to cut his stream short. “Umm…s-sorry guys something came up, I’ll be back next week.”

“Wonwoo you pussy don’t leave me al—” You heard Seungcheol yell through the mic, getting cut off when Wonwoo shut everything down. You heard the sound of his headset gently hit his keyboard. You leaned over peaking your head in as you watched Wonwoo angrily run his fingers through his hair before looking over at you. “You little minx…get in here.” He demanded as he started walking towards you. You giggled and started running away into your bedroom, while he followed.

You threw yourself on your bed and waited for Wonwoo. “Hi Woo, what’s wrong?” You asked laying down the minute he walked into the room.

“Don’t you have a thesis to finish…what are you getting me so worked up for?” He said bringing his t-shirt over his head and throwing it somewhere in the room.

“I don’t think that was me, baby, that was your stupid games’ doing.” You sat up \on your elbows watching as he continued to undress.

“Do you know how dangerous that was…I could’ve been reported for nudity if you were caught.” He said as he finished taking off his boxers and climbed onto the bed.

“It’s a good thing you weren’t.” You giggled, Wonwoo rolled his eyes and turned you over so you were now laying on your stomach. You felt his palm come down onto your ass causing you to moan out. He leaned down and bit one of your cheeks, a small inaudible gasp leaving your mouth making him smirk against your skin. “If you wanted to play all you had to do was ask love.” He spoke against your skin and slowly kissed his way up your body, reaching over to move your drying hair away from your neck.

“You only ever want to play your games.” You moaned out as you felt him suck onto your neck harshly, feeling another slap land on your ass. “That’s not true…this will always be my favorite game.” He bit your earlobe sneaking a hand around your front resting his hand over your neck. “What do you say baby…want to play?” He tightened his hold around your neck making you gasp.

“mhm, yes please.” You moaned feeling his free hand teasingly run down his back, his knees parting your legs. “Always so respectful for me aren’t you.” He said sneaking his hand in between your legs. “And wet.” He moaned, coating his fingers with your arousal, teasing you slowly.

“Now tell me, love, was this what you wanted when you rudely interrupted me?” Wonwoo removed his hand from around your neck and tugged at your hips bringing you up to your knees.

“N-No.” You whimpered, feeling the head of his cock run through your folds. “I find that hard to believe. You’re all clean and moisturized and wet for me, baby.” He groaned and pressed his head onto your clit. “Just look at how hard you have me.” He finished pushing himself in slowly. You arched your back moaning, feeling yourself stretch around him.

For months your busy schedules had been getting in the way. He has his job at Woozi’s record company and his twitch streams two times a week. And you with your part-time job at the publishing company and going to night classes to finish up your masters, that by the time any of you would get home all you wanted to do was sleep.

“Woo, it’s been too long please move.” You choked out feeling his veins throbbing against your silky walls. “Anything for you my angel.” He grunted snapping his hips into you hard making you scream out his name. Feeling your arms start to give out as the pleasure continued to course through your body, you leaned down on your forearms.

His hips hitting your backside hard yet slowly as he sensually rode out the pleasure the two of you were currently feeling. His cock throbbing the more the two of you started reaching for your high. “I-I’ve missed you.” He moaned breathlessly leaning his body over yours digging his fingers into your hips roughly. He buried his head into the crook of your neck as he continued to ram himself into you. You turned your head to the side and kissed him messily biting his lower lip roughly. “I missed you too.” You gasped feeling him hit the sweet spot you knew he loved to play with.

Both of your moans mix with the sound of your skin against his, bounced of your bedroom walls. The headboard of the bed slamming into the wall creating small dents that you were sure you would worry about in the morning. Along with the noise complaint letters you would get during the week from all the angry tenants living in your apartment building. But you could care less, the only thing that mattered was the delicious spread going on in between your legs.

“Touch yourself b-baby,” Wonwoo demanded, feeling the loss of his skin against your back as he lifted up his body. You snaked your hand between your legs and rubbed your clit roughly, as Wonwoo sped up his movements. He set a foot on your bed reaching a new angle in you making you arch your back in pleasure as he helped you chase your high. The coil of pleasure spirals until you burst around him screaming out his name in pleasure. You panted bottoming out looking up over your shoulder whimpering as Wonwoo pulled out of you, releasing his load onto your back milking himself out.

He gave your ass a little tap signaling for you to lay down on your stomach again. He panted laying down next to you putting an arm underneath his head and the other on your upper back. “So much for finishing my thesis tonight.” You said trying to catch your breath.

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head, drawing small patterns on your shoulders with his thumb. “That’s on you baby.” He leaned over kissing your nose. “Are you feeling better?”

You looked up at him raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean Woo, I’m not sick.”

He sighed, turning his body to face you. “No, but you were stressed out, I could tell the second I came home and when you told me to keep it down the first time.” He brought his hand up over and rubbed soothing circles around your flushed-out cheek. You nodded burying your face into his chest. “I’m feeling a lot better…thank you.”

“Good, now let me run you a bath and then we can sit down together and finish your thesis…does that sound okay?” He scrunched up his nose at a poor attempt to push his glasses up. You smiled helping him and kissed his lips softly.

“Sounds amazing love.”

304 notes · View notes

haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe) words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of alcohol

a/n: im certified atsumu simp now

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie

| Chapter One |

Chapter Two

When you turn the corner to head towards the gym, Atsumu is already waiting for you. Determined to make this as convincing as possible, he slings an arm around your shoulders and you do a fantastic job of pressing yourself against his side, wrapping your own arm around his middle. You ignore the thought that he is comfortingly warm and very solid next you, reminding yourself you’re doing this for peaceful showers.

The two of you approach the gym and as if they were waiting for you, the entire team is standing at the entrance. A few of their brows raise, clearly surprised Atsumu wasn’t lying. Though some of them look suspicious, eyeing the two of you up and you prepare yourself for questions.

When you get within earshot, one of them shouts, “Wow Miya, we really thought you were lying!”

“Yeah! Why’ve you been hiding this beauty from us, huh?”

Before he can speak, for some reason you decide to take the blame, answering, “I was a little nervous to meet you all for a while.”

If Atsumu is surprised at all, he hides it, instead holding you a bit closer, his hand splaying across your opposite shoulder and gushing, “Cute, isn’t she?”

One of them who doesn’t seem convinced asks, “So how’d you meet?”

Now Atsumu takes the lead. “Funny story actually! We met in the bathroom! Her favorite shower stall is the one right next to mine, and we both like late night showers.”

You can’t help the frown that turns your lips downward. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” you admit, making the members of the team smirk a little bit. “I swear, he’d wait around for me.”

“I did not!” He pouts, and it’s beginning to look like the more suspicious members are starting to believe you.

So, you go in for the kill. “Sure, you didn’t,” you smile, reaching up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek that you don’t give yourself time to think is okay or not. That seems to stun Atsumu, which is a feat in itself, but you don’t give anyone time to think anything of it as you give them a light wave goodbye and slip out of Atsumu’s arms. “It was nice meeting you all, but shouldn’t you get to practice? I’m sure I’ll be seeing you more often now!”

They give you parting waves, some of them just as stunned as Atsumu seems to be. On your way out, you risk a glance backwards and see them surround Atsumu, one of them pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his blonde locks while they all laugh and enter the gym. Atsumu grinning the widest of them all. You aren’t sure why, but you’re smiling too. Strangely glad to have helped him out.

His teammates encircle him, clapping him on the back and congratulating him, jokingly calling him a bastard for going and snagging a girl like that. He can’t help thinking the same. You shocked him with that kiss out of the blue, enough that he probably looked more lovestruck than shocked to his teammates. He’s impressed with your commitment to this charade.

Before he disappears into the gym, Atsumu takes one last look at you heading down the path. That went perfectly. And even though he knows he shouldn’t, he thinks about that small little kiss the entire practice.

The following days are absolute hell. You have to garner the courage to tell your roommate before word gets out because the rumor that Miya Atsumu finally has a girlfriend spreads like wildfire. She’s hurt at first, but like you suspect, she forgives you after you tell her how you and Atsumu met.

She seems to think the shower story is the most adorable thing she’s ever heard as her squeals of, “So cute!!” are loud enough you swear the entire floor must hear it.

Your daily routine changes, feeling like you have to peer around every corner in fear of the fan club waiting to ambush you. But after reluctantly disclosing that to Atsumu, you notice he makes a point to walk with you whenever he can. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and once when you actually do run in to the fan club, the glare he gives them is cold enough to ice over a lake and you’re pretty sure they won’t bother you even if Atsumu is absent.

Additionally, you and Atsumu start spending a lot more time together. You eat lunch with him almost every day, sometimes joined by a few members of the team, sometimes by your roommate, other times the two of you eat alone. And you’re beginning to find those are the days you like the most. The days when the two of you can just be without feeling the pressure to pretend.

“So does your brother still play volleyball?” You ask one day, curious why if they were such a powerhouse in high school why they didn’t continue that into college.

“I always liked volleyball just a little more than him.”

“He quit?”

Atsumu shrugs, shoving another mouthful of rice into his mouth. “He went to culinary school, always had a weird place in his heart for food.”

“And that was volleyball for you?”

He stares at you, unprepared for this barrage of questions. There was this strange familiarity growing between the two of you, and the more time he spends with you alone the more he feels like he knows you. It makes it easier to pretend for everyone else, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s making it harder for him to remember this is all pretend.

Before he can reply, you continue, “If you love volleyball so much, why aren’t you playing professionally then?”

His brows lift. “And how did yer pretty little ears hear about that?”

You roll your eyes, but definitely need to shove the feeling of embarrassment down to be able to admit, “My roommate told me.”

“Curious today, aren’tcha?”

You stiffen. “Well, I should probably know these things if we’re dating,” you mumble, returning to your food trying to hide your flustered expression.

Yet again, you surprise him with your commitment to this façade. The two of you could easily sit here in silence since it’s just the two of you, but since you’ve started eating lunch together both of you have started to get to know the other more. So, he just smiles at you and admits, “Yeah, I could, but I was kinda lookin’ forward to the whole college experience, ya know?” He rests his chin in his hand, wondering if he should continue. He hasn’t really told anyone his feelings about playing professionally, and how he feels that with every day he ignores the offers the less likely he’ll be able to make the transition the longer he waits. “I’m still thinkin’ about it. The offers are still there.”

You cock your head, and he refuses to look at you, feeling like you have a gift for seeing straight through him. “Is college that great?”

Now he laughs, and in an attempt to bring this conversation back to lighter waters he wraps an arm around you and smothers you against his chest teasing, “Yeah, otherwise I wouldn’ta met you!”

You roll your eyes and tell yourself that for the sake of the charade you let yourself sink into his embrace. When he releases you, you stick your tongue out at him. “I know you purposefully changed the subject, but I’ll let it slide. Consider yourself lucky.”

He puts his hands together in a fake prayer. “I’ll forever remember the kindness,” he says dramatically.

To which you scoff, “I highly doubt that.”

You study together when he’s available, but usually volleyball takes precedence over studying most nights. Sometimes he joins you in the library late at night, finding you in your favorite corner, plopping down beside you, blonde hair damp from the quick shower he took and distracting you from schoolwork with how practice went that day.

Already a few weeks in to your agreement, one night the two of you are in the library rather late, Atsumu’s practice ended late and he has a paper due in the morning that he’s desperate to finish. For the first hour, he’s chatty, unable to focus on what he needs to get done, despite constant reminders from you and promises that you’ll go get ice cream from the dining hall when he finishes.

The next hour, he seems to get in the zone, typing furiously away on his computer. Honestly, he isn’t sure if what he’s writing is even good but at this point, he doesn’t care, it just needs to get done.

But after his stint of concentration, you’re suddenly struck by the realization that he’s been silent beside you for a few minutes now. No sound of typing or conversation, and it goes on long enough that you become concerned. Looking over, you find him slumped over in his chair, head on his keyboard, fast asleep.

You fight the urge to laugh at him. Taking only a few selfish moments to marvel over his face, his usual smirking expression replaced by his eyes softly closed and his mouth slightly open. He sighs a deep breath before subconsciously stretching his arms out across the table and you get a nice view of his biceps flexing beneath his black shirt.

It’s then you become aware that you’ve been staring at him way too long and shake him awake.

His eyes flutter open, and upon seeing you, that once infuriating smirk he likes to wear rises to his lips. “Who woulda thought I’d be wakin’ up to a pretty girl lookin’ at me like that,” he drawls, knowing exactly how to fluster you.

You shake your head, laughing and packing up your things. “Come on big baby, it’s bedtime.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, picking his head up and promptly stuffing his things away in his bag. You decide to ignore what his soft, sleepy voice is doing to your heart rate and instead focus on how he’s putting his things away. That backfires on you, as you start thinking about how long and deft his fingers are and you have to physically look away from him to stop your mind going in that direction.

The two of you leave the library, walking quietly back to your dorm building, you aren’t expecting his hand to slip into yours; those long fingers you were just trying to get out of your head intertwining with yours. You look up at him confusedly and without looking at you, he brushes it off, “Just in case.”

You press your lips into a firm line, replying, “Right.”

He won’t dare admit he did that subconsciously. He just reached out for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, only realizing his mistake from the confused expression you gave him. He internalizes his sigh of relief that he can pass it off as keeping up your fake relationship and you seem none the wiser.

When you make it up to your floor, at the point in the hallway where you need to split ways, despite nobody being around that you need to fake for, you press a light kiss to his cheek and say, “Goodnight Atsumu.”

You’re gone before he can get a reply in.

You start coming to his games more often, dragging your roommate along (though she doesn’t mind one bit) and do your best to ignore just how good he looks playing volleyball. It doesn’t help that your roommate keeps commenting things like, “god you are so lucky,” and “just look at him!”

You are looking at him. And it pisses you off that she’s right. He’s annoyingly god-like, and you find yourself staring at his biceps and thighs a lot more than is necessary. Your heart fluttering traitorously whenever he grins when he makes a successful play. Even when he raises his fist to silence the crowd when he serves, which before you thought was utterly ridiculous—you now find yourself holding your breath as goosebumps spread across your skin.

He denies to himself just how much he loves seeing you in the stands. Unable to stop the feeling that swells in his chest with the way you look at him. With the fan club, he knows all they see is the surface. He’s cocky enough to know he’s good-looking (and if he didn’t think so, the fan club certainly feels otherwise). But with you—you look like you want to devour him. He doesn’t know if you are aware of it or not, but you watch him with predatory intent in a way he can’t explain that makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

At some point, he has to admit it. He fucking loves it.

One particularly memorable game, he swears you never take your eyes off him. And he feels like he’s at the top of his game, like nothing can go wrong for him. He’s so full of adrenaline and excitement afterwards that when he finds you in the hallway, he sweeps you up into an enormous hug. Your laughter filling the air and god—he loves your laugh; he could listen to it forever.

You don’t even care how sweaty he is or really if anyone is watching. Your instinct is to wrap your arms around him and squeeze him back, your ego inflating from the glares you can feel boring into your back from the fan club. And it’s easy—far too easy to forget that all of this is fake.

Especially when he pulls away only to plant a kiss right on your mouth, his body too full of adrenaline to truly realize what he’s doing.

And instead of pushing him away, you selfishly pull him closer, fingers laced behind his neck and body slotting against him so perfectly he has to resist the urge to groan. He cradles your head, drawing out the kiss for as long as he can consider appropriate, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just confess to you.

Instead, he lets you go, both of you chalking it up to the adrenaline and the charade. Both secretly knowing it was more than that to both of you.

And you don’t speak of it again, continuing with your sham relationship like nothing has changed.

But a lot of things have changed. It’s been almost 2 months since this started, well past the time needed to convince his teammates this is real. Some part of him refuses to bring it up, unwilling to let you go and wanting to drag this on for as long as possible.

Despite knowing that this will all have to come to an end eventually.

“You gotta be there!” He pouts, doing a wonderful job of obscuring your view of the notebook on the table in front of you. “There’s no way my girlfriend would miss it!”

You groan, head resting on the chair behind you. Atsumu has been trying to convince you for the better part of the hour to come to the party the volleyball team is throwing this weekend. No matter how many times you’ve expressed your disinterest, he’s relentless.

He wiggles his brows. “I’ll throw in an invitation for your roommate too,” he says, knowing full well your roommate will be a pain in your side if she finds out you got invited to this party and refrained from taking her with.

Now you sigh, annoyed that he knows you well enough to sweeten the deal like that. And it isn’t the party that is deterring you, it’s a certain blonde-haired volleyball setter that you’ve been getting far too close to lately that’s making you hesitate. Something about the atmosphere of a party and a little alcohol in both of your systems makes you uneasy. And not in a bad way.

“You promise not to ditch me?” You pout, faking the reason you don’t want to attend.

He crosses over his heart. “I swear it. And besides, I’d be crazy to let ya wander around by yerself.” He gives you a quick wink, then a kiss to your cheek and he’s off to practice, shouting over his shoulder that the party starts at nine.

Your roommate is over the moon at the invitation, insisting you can’t possibly show up right at nine. So, you and she show up fashionably late around ten. Within a few moments, Atsumu finds you and gathers you up into his arms, whispering in your ear, “You’re late, where ya been?”

You smirk. “Roommate insisted on being fashionably late.”

He just chuckles, low in his throat and directly beside your ear—a sound that makes your toes involuntarily curl in your shoes. God, if you’re already curling your toes at the sound of just his voice you’re in for a long night. After releasing you, he easily greets your roommate and takes the two of you to the kitchen where cans of various alcohols are waiting.

You swear your roommate is going to combust with joy, taking a can for herself then happily heading off towards the dance floor. You’re glad she’s pretty independent as you can already feel you’re going to be glued to Atsumu’s side the entire night. You eye the drinks, sigh, and take one for yourself. If this night’s going to be long, might as well enjoy it.

He just watches you, amused, and unable to stop himself from thinking about how good you fucking look tonight. He wanted you to be here not to keep up the act of your relationship but because he actually wants to spend time with you. Lately, it’s the highlight of most of his days, and sue him if he wants to have a little fun.

Setting an arm on your shoulder, he first parades you around the party, letting everyone see just who he’s ‘dating’ and feeling his ego boost from the looks of jealousy he garners from a few people. The teammates who have eaten lunch with you a few times are happy to see you, indulging you in a bit of chit chat and helping loosen you up.

You might’ve been embarrassed to be on Atsumu’s arm had it not felt so damn great to be met with looks of jealousy from guys and girls alike, and it was doing wonders for your self-confidence. Enough that you tap him on the arm and ask to be taken back to the kitchen for another drink. He graciously obliges you, and once both of you have another can in hand, he finds somewhere for you two to sit.

It doesn’t even occur to you how easy it is to curl up beside him, his arm around you on the back of the couch, hand resting on your opposite shoulder while the two of you observe the party in full swing.

“You guys really know how to throw a party,” you comment, nodding to the room that was completely cleared out to make room for a dance floor.

“What’s that?” He teases. “I thought you didn’t want to come!”

Poking him in the side and refusing to look up at him, you admit, “I changed my mind.”

You know you’ve dug yourself a nice little hole when he continues, “Are my ears deceiving me? Are you admitting you were wrong?”

“Spare me,” you beg, a grin on your lips nonetheless. It’s then you spot your roommate out on the dance floor, her eyes connecting with yours long enough that she starts beckoning you towards her. “Oh god,” you groan.

She doesn’t stop though, instead abandoning the dance floor and approaching you and Atsumu. “Excuse me sir, but I’m gunna have to steal her for a dance or two.”

Subconsciously you cling to Atsumu, jerking your eyes up to him as he smiles easily saying, “Of course.” Taking your arm, she pulls you up from the couch and out of Atsumu’s arms, dragging you towards the dance floor while you look back at him with a pleading expression. He only waves idly back at you, that infuriating smirk splaying across his lips.

Worming her way into the throng of bodies, she puts her hands on your hips forcing you to sway them along to the music, laughing and encouraging you to ‘let go!!’. Eventually, there’s no resisting the thumping music or the movement of bodies around you, and soon your laughter is mixing with hers as the two of you dance ridiculously with one another.

Atsumu watches from the couch, utterly entranced at your change in behavior. He’s unable to look at anyone else but you, like the rest of the party falls away and its just you on that dancefloor swaying your hips under the flashing lights. He hardly knows what to do with himself as you laugh alongside your roommate, unaware he’s watching you.

At some point, you remember the boy you came here for, and fight your way to the edge of the crowd to catch sight of him. He’s where you left him, sitting on a couch a room away, an ankle crossed over his knee, still drinking his beer and looking unbothered by your absence. You look at him a moment, sitting there in his fitted black tee and dark jeans, so casually good-looking it isn’t fair.

His dark eyes meet yours and there’s something in them that sends goosebumps prickling across your skin. You’re barely even tipsy but there must be something stirring your boldness, otherwise you would have never lifted a hand and beckoned him towards you.

He’s pinned to his seat for a moment when you motion him to join you on the dancefloor. He has an uncanny suspicion that something is going to happen out there, under the safety of the pulsing lights and hidden by the mass of bodies. But some part of him wants that, whispering that it’s all he wants. So, he rises, setting his can on a nearby table and strides out to meet you.

A fire lights in your stomach as he stops in front of you, and now that he’s here you are quite sure what to do with yourself. “You looked bored,” you lie.

“Well, my date ditched me,” he remarks. “But I like her, so I’ll let it slide.”

Your answering smile is enough to send him through the roof. And soon, you’re engulfed by the surging crowd, getting sucked into the middle of the floor, a sense of reality slipping out from beneath the two of you. His hands at your waist, your body pressed up against his, his forehead resting on yours—he’s desperate to close the gap between the two of you. Dying to kiss you, to feel your lips mold to his, fingers lacing in his hair—he wonders what kind of sounds he could elicit from you, sounds just for him, sounds that would get lost in the thumping beat.

His better sense tells him to resist. Knowing that even though you’ve kissed before, this one would be different. It’s just the two of you, free from the pressure of pretending, he wouldn’t be able to pass it off as an act. And even if he could, he isn’t sure he wants to.

All the while, you’re watching him, wondering if he’s going to take the leap. Part of you urging him to. Pathetically wanting him to smother you in his arms and the two of you can just ignore it all tomorrow. It’s seemingly what you do best.

He doesn’t though, allowing him to just enjoy this moment—your proximity, warm breath mingling with his, arms resting on his broad shoulders as the crowd undulates around you. To him, there’s nothing else around, just you and your body fitting perfectly to his, back curved to press closer to him—he’s pitifully so lost in the way you’re moving those hips making him move along with you.

He’s grateful that if you notice him struggling to keep his composure, you don’t say anything. But when he glances at your face, you’re blissfully unaware of his plight, eyes closed murmuring along to the music and relishing the moment in your own way. Your thoughts dominated by how warm he is, how solid he feels, how his hands are resting on your back.

And the two of you stay like that, until you’re broken from your reverie by one of his teammates whistling loudly at the two of you, eyebrows wiggling suggestively that Atsumu just huffs a breath out at.

“I think I need another drink,” you say, pulling away from him.

His arms feel empty now, the clamor of the party destroying the quiet and intimate bubble the two of you had created. But instead of doing anything about it, he just gives you a winning smile—one he feels is half-assed, replying, “Ditto.”

#miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #miya atsumu #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #miya atsumu reader insert #haikyuu

352 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 4 years

Text

Call Me Back

Bishop Losa x Reader

Request by my #1 Presidente fan @masterlistforimagines : Hiii, can I request “don’t you dare walk away” “call me now, it’s urgent” and “why do I even bother” with el Presidente (aka the only person I request for). I’m thinking maybe they were in an argument and he left mid argument to handle club shit. Maybe something important happens and that’s why there’s the whole call me back part. Like angst to fluff?

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: The prompts are from This Post in case anyone was curious! Also, I wanted to make it angsty but not tooooo too angsty because then my heart would be too sad haha. Hope you enjoy it!

Bish Tag: @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf

Gif Credit: @sonsofeorl

You and Bishop were standing on opposite ends of your dining room table. You were leaning against the back of the chair on the very end, trying to keep your tears from falling. You hated that you were an angry crier. Bishop was standing at the opposite end, staring intently down at the surface of the table. He hated seeing you so upset, and when you’d start to cry that’s when his heart would really start to break.

“I didn’t think it was worth bothering you with,” his tone was level, which sometimes made it more infuriating to argue with him, “It wasn’t that big of a—”

“It was a big deal to me!” you snapped, a tear escaping and trickling down your cheek, “It fucking matters to me! I don’t understand why that isn’t enough of a reason to keep me in the loop. All it takes is one goddamn phone call, Obispo. I’m not asking for a hell of a lot.”

“And I’m telling you, that if I want to keep you safe I can’t always just,” his phone vibrated in his pocket and he paused to see who was calling. With a sigh he hit the reject button and went back to is discussion with you, “I can’t always afford to do that. We’ve had this conversation before, I don’t know why we have to keep having it.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you wipe the tears off of your cheeks, “So if I just decided to fuck off for a couple days and not communicate with you at all, you’re saying that you’d be okay with that? That wouldn’t set off any alarm bells for you?”

He shook his head, “It’s not the same, Y/N. You aren’t tied up with a goddamn cartel!”

“That’s all the more reason you should take the five seconds to send me a text so I know you’re at least alive and not dead in a fucking ditch somewhere.”

“What exactly do you want me to send you then, huh? Drop you a casual text saying that the drug run was successful and that we—” his phone went off again in his pocket and he huffed as he answered it, “What?!”

You shook your head and collapsed in the chair that you had been leaning against. Of course he would answer his phone in the middle of an argument. God forbid he get through one conversation with you without having to reprioritize.

“Fuck me,” he sighed, “Alright, I’m on my way. Stay put and don’t do anything stupid.”

You jaw dropped, “You’re kidding right? You’re not leaving right now.”

“It’s shit with the—”

“Shit with the club, yea, I know,” you shook your head, “You can’t just leave in the middle of this, Obispo. You can’t keep dodging this conversation.”

“I’m not dodging it,” he took his kutte off the chair and slid it on, “but the club needs me right now.”

“I need you right now!” you slammed your hand on the table.

He took a deep breath, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t you dare walk away,” your voice was quieter now, “For the love of god, Obispo.”

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” he stormed off and out the door. No goodbye, no I love you, nothing. That hurt more than him yelling.

You buried your face in your hands as the tears began to flow. It was half anger, half sadness fueling them now. You were constantly left feeling like you were being unrealistic with asking certain things of him, and also knowing that what you were asking for was the bare minimum. You cared about him too much to be alright with not knowing if he was safe. No matter how many times you tried to explain that to him, though, he never seemed to get it. Or maybe he did and just actively went out of his way not to get into it because he couldn’t offer you any comfort about it. If that was the case though, you reasoned, that was another discussion he should be having with you.

But you never got to discuss anything. Because there was always something going on with the club that would cut into it.

You wiped the tears off of your face and grabbed your purse and keys from the table. If he could leave, then so could you. You couldn’t keep sitting in the house feeling sad and lonely. You were done with that. If Bishop really wanted to talk to you, he could come and find you.

The radio was blasting and the roads were empty. You had no idea how long you had been driving for. You were all cried out though. You took a deep breath as you blindly dug around in your purse for your cigarettes and lighter. You were able to take one out of the pack and put it to your lips without taking your eyes off the road. Your fingers fumbled with the lighter for a moment before you glanced down just long enough to make sure you were going to safely light it.

You looked back up to the road and screamed, swerving your car to avoid hitting the coyote that was standing in the middle of the road. It scampered out of the way, getting out of the altercation unharmed, but you couldn’t stop yourself from swearing repeatedly as you realized that your car had dragged along the cement median, still there from the never-ending construction. You didn’t want to get out and look at the damage, but you knew that you had to.

You put your hazards on as you safely found a place to pull off the road. You grabbed your phone, turning the flashlight on so you could see what you were dealing with. Tears stung at your eyes again as you took in the damage. A good chunk of it was cosmetic, just scrapes and dents down the passenger side of the vehicle. But you had also busted your passenger-side headlight, and also ended up ripping off the side-view mirror as well. The car was drivable, but if you passed any cops there was no way they weren’t going to give you some kind of ticket.

Your original plan had been to make Bishop come and look for you, but that all went out the window. With a heavy sigh you called him. The line rang, and rang, and rang. No answer. He always had time to pick up for the club, but suddenly now his phone was out of reach. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let yet another wave of tears come cascading down your cheeks.

Your thumbs flew across your phone’s keyboard, “Call me now. It’s urgent” you hoped that maybe he just couldn’t answer a phone call, but maybe he’d have the time to spare a quick look at a text message. You weren’t one to bother him with “emergencies” that weren’t really emergencies. If you said you needed help, you meant it.

You gave it ten minutes before you sent a follow up message, “Forget it. Why do I even bother?”

You scrolled through your contacts until you landed on Chucky’s number. This wasn’t his problem, but you knew that he’d show up in a heartbeat to help you. You dialed and he picked up on the second ring.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, Chucky. I’m, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know it’s late and you’re probably dealing with your own shit right now, but I’m in a bit of a spot.”

“You know I would do anything for the First Lady of the club,” he sounded so earnest.

It made you smile and shake your head even if he couldn’t see you, “You’re sweet, Chucky. Are you still at the yard?”

“I’m just getting ready to leave. You called me at the perfectly fated moment.”

You chuckled despite the fact that you wanted to cry, “Something like that. I, uh, I banged up my car. I was wondering if you could meet me with the tow truck? I’ll owe you one for sure.”

“All you’ll ever owe me is company and good conversation.”

You laughed as you gave him the mile marker that you were closest to. The whole evening had been a shitshow but it was impossible to not feel a little lighter after talking to Chucky. You just hoped that it wouldn’t take him too long to get to you.

He got to you in about forty-five minutes, which was good time considering you had been driving for a while before all of this happened. He didn’t say a word as the two of you hooked your car up to the tow truck. That was one of the things you loved about Chucky—he didn’t ask a million questions. You hopped in so you were riding shotgun and you both began the ride back to the yard.

As promised, you kept a conversation going with him the entire time, and it almost made you forget about the chaos that had landed you in that truck with him. There was so much to Chucky that you wanted to know about. He was like the most interesting puzzle you’d ever encountered. He was always so kind to you, and you knew he did everything he could to help take care of the club. There weren’t many people who were as selfless and loyal as he was. You were glad to know him.

He drove through the gate to the yard and clubhouse. You let out a deep sigh when you saw Bishop sitting on the steps to the clubhouse. There was a cigarette in his hand and he was staring down at the ground, looking up only when he heard the truck roll onto the lot. He flicked away the last of his cigarette as he jogged over to meet the truck when Chucky put it in park.

“I figured that you would be able to get it off the truck and onto the lift tomorrow?” Chucky offered up as he stepped out of the truck, “Or one of the club?”

Bishop nodded, wanting to dismiss him quickly without being rude, “Yea we got it. Thank you, Chucky.”

“Glad to be of service,” he nodded to Bishop, “Have a good night, Presidente,” he turned back to you, “Despite the circumstances, I appreciate the company.”

You smiled at him, “You’re a good man, Chucky. Thank you.”

He smiled as he walked away, “I accept that.”

It was just you and Bishop on the lot. Everything was dark except for the street lights that shined into the compound. There was a considerable gap between the two of you. You were nervously fussing with your hair, not wanting to try and get into all of this shit with Bishop now. All you wanted to do was go home and go to sleep. The adrenaline was wearing off and all of the crying that you had been doing was exhausting.

“I’m sorry about the car,” you finally broke the silence, “There was a coyote in the middle of the road and I didn’t want to hit it and I just—”

It seemed like it only took him all of two steps to close the gap between the two of you as he came and wrapped you in a hug. He squeezed you tighter than he had in a long time, with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other looped so that he was keeping your head pressed against his chest. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight, like he was trying to revel in how you felt in his arms.

“I don’t give a fuck about the car,” he mumbled into your hair as he peppered the top of your head with kisses,” he pulled back so he could look you over, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, “Yea. It really wasn’t that bad. It’s a lot of cosmetic damage. I’ll need a new headlight and mirror though,” you sighed, shaking your head, “Dumb fucking coyote.”

There was the smallest hint of a smile on his face, “I told you that no stray animal like that is worth wrecking the car over.”

“I didn’t wreck it. She’s just got…you know…some battle scars now.”

He shook his head as he pulled you into another hug. He tilted your chin up for a moment so that he could kiss your lips. You closed your eyes and let yourself melt into it for a moment, savoring the taste of him before he rested your head back against his chest again. His arms tightened around you again, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

You were smiling against his chest but you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth, “You woulda known sooner if you answered your fucking phone when I called.”

You felt his chest rise and fall as he sighed, “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Did Chucky tell you he was coming to get me?”

Bishop nodded a smile quickly passing over his face as he said, “Barged in on Templo,” he gave you a pointed look, “Which is why I wasn’t answering my phone, by the way. And I would’ve gone with him but I didn’t know if you were still pissed off at me.”

“I’m not done being mad at you yet, Obispo,” you sighed against him, “But I would like to hit pause on this argument for now. I’m tired and I just want to go home with you.”

He scooped you up so your legs were wrapped around his waist as he held you, “I would really love it if you were done being mad at me, Amor,” he pressed his forehead against yours.

You rolled your eyes as he nuzzled his nose against yours, trying to be sweet enough to drop your anger, “Are you really trying to schmooze your way out of this argument?”

He walked, carrying you over to his bike. He set you down on your seat and gently cupped your face in his hand, “What if I’m trying to schmooze and I promise you that going forward I’ll work on being better at communicating with you?”

You smiled, leaning into the warmth emanating from his hand, “Alright, fine, I’ll allow it,” you kissed his palm, “But you’re on thin ice, Obispo.”

There was a small smirk on his face, “I always am,” he handed you his helmet, “So do I get to ask why your next call was Chucky? Why not one of the guys?”

You laughed, “Why? You jealous of Chucky?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “He is quite the charmer.”

You chuckled as you clipped the strap to his helmet, “He refers to me as the First Lady and it does wonders for my confidence.”

“Don’t let it go to your head too much, Y/N,” he tapped the top of his helmet, “Or this won’t even fit you anymore.”

“If it still fits you, I know I’ll be fine,” you smirked before letting out a laugh.

He shook his head at you before leaning in and giving you a kiss, “Always gotta have something smart to say, don’t you?”

“That’s why you love me.”

He got onto his bike, and you were still able to hear his laughter even though you were sitting behind him, “One of the many reasons, Amor.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #bishop losa #bishop x reader #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa imagine #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc #five word prompt

406 notes · View notes