Greedy | Myg X Reader | Epilogue: Bases Loaded

be my baby | myg sm au

banner by: @ppersonna​

🖇 synopsis:

— when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

pairing: rapper!yoongi x mom!reader

fic type: social media au

side ships: taekook, 2seok(?), namjoon x oc.

genre: idol au | heavy angst, with a pinch of fluff. there’s some smut too!!

disclaimer: mentions of alcohol abuse/addiction. pls don’t read if you’re sensitive to the topic or if it could be triggering!

status: completed.

updates: everyday.

A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

parts:

prologue

character profiles: yoongi nd company

character profiles: yn nd her babies

part one: no dramatics

part two: new follow

part three: answer me

part four: no bullshit

part five: looks different

part six: preparing him

part seven: fucking mess

part eight: head over heels

part nine: who are you?

part ten: blind date

part eleven: cheese fries

part twelve: need rescuing

part thirteen: best friend

part fourteen: the zoo

part fifteen: no excuse

part sixteen: teach me

time jump: not soulmates

part seventeen: absolutely stunning

part eighteen: still in love

part nineteen: you’ve changed

part twenty: forever thing

part twenty-one: what now

part twenty-two: regret it

part twenty-three: interesting night

part twenty-four: okay, daddy

part twenty-five: delicious man

part twenty-six: be all, end all

part twenty-seven: both of us

part twenty-eight: more than ready

epilogue (1)(2)

end

drabbles

the interpretation of dreams - knj

unexpressed emotions will never die - the interpretation of dreams, sigmund freud

summary- he’s the man of your dreams, the an you’ve spent over 6 years pining over.  and he’s also your Ph.D. mentor and in charge of your very future.

word count- 13.8k

pairing- namjoon x reader, background jikook

rating- 18+

genre- oneshot, smut, fluff

warnings- dom/sub undertones, penetrative sex, oral sex (m.f. receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be like this! pls), creampie, impreg kink I guess if u squint?, dirty talk, praise kink x 100, joon is a soft!dom, wants to praise u forever and ever, finger sucking, sluttybff!jimin, casual and consenting name-calling, jimin calls u bitch a lot but its ok, daddy kink lmao.

a.n- namjoon in glasses breaks me everytime.  i had to get this out here bc that man gets me too hot.  also, word of caution, in real life don’t fuck your Ph.D. mentor, lmao it will not end well

Grad school was hard enough without harboring a massive, supreme, gargantuan crush on your mentor.  

You weren’t sure why the universe had conspired against you.  You were doing everything right.  You stayed in school, got great grades, never disobeyed your parents, graduated with honors from high school, graduated cum laude in college, and were well into your third year of a prestigious, world-renowned Ph.D. program for psychology.

So why the absolute fuck did the universe place you, little old you, with the hottest dissertation mentor, professor, and male specimen, the absolute ultimate dream come true, Prince Charming himself, Dr. Kim Namjoon?  For all 5 years of your program!  Weren’t you allowed some saving graces in your life?  Some sort of a break? 

Keep reading

the courtship chronicles | ksj

summary: dating has never been anywhere near your list of priorities, but kim seokjin is nothing if not determined. and when he comes to the rescue and accompanies you to your friend’s wedding, he decides to request only one thing in return: for you to let him take you out on fake dates and shower you in fake affection, and show you how much fun dating can be. he just needs to remember to keep the part where he’s been in love with you under wraps.

{friends to lovers!au, fake dating!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, and emotional hurt/comfort! word count: 20k a/n: big, big, big thanks to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me for this piece!! i honestly am so happy with this fic and even happier to give my main man kim seokjin the love and attention he deserves!!! this fic is pretty much slow burn from start to finish, so enjoy!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Keep reading

no trouble

“I refuse to believe I got on one knee and asked you to marry me”

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: crack, slight angst, roommates au, enemies to lovers.

summary: living with min yoongi, the salt of the earth, was never part of the plan but what can you do when he threatens to tell everyone the embarrassing secret you both share, that you're both accidently legally married after a weekend in vegas.

warnings: mentions of suggestive behavior, use of cuss words

masterlist

1. quivered in fear

2. remember vegas

3. m*n yoong*

4. sus behavior

5. acting like besties

6. seokjin's fat ass

7. unwanted opinion

8. birthday suit

9. unrealistic behavior

10. poisoned cookies

11. starting SHIT

12. legally married

13. divorce me

14. you'll be in contact with my lawyers

15. jimin's suspicions

16. get over it

17. roomies only

18. wine drunk

19. babysit my fish

20. jealous?? ME??

21. wife material

22. finally divorced

23. sad behavior

24. no trouble

end.

enjoy!

a.n. after a long hiatus your bff is back for this au 😽!!

yn keeps ending up at the police station and namjoon just happens to work there.

genre: crack, fluff, possible angst??

the story contains alternative ends. last chapters in italics for the alternative end.

introduction 1 | namjoon and friends

introduction 2 | yn and friends

private accounts

part 1 | peach milk

part 2 | mourn

part 3 | cop pick up lines

part 4 | i can’t read

part 5 | loyal costumers

part 6 | i hate peaches

part 7 | day off

part 8 | kid

part 9 | let’s get that milk

part 10 | yeeted

part 11 | marty im scared

part 12 | long day huh

part 13 | sued

part 14 | LOVE being BEST FRIENDS

part 15 | let’s just throw them in jail

part 16 | manipulation

part 17 | i could never

part 18 | what ass?

part 19 | shrieking

part 20 | i want kiss

part 21 | taehyung is THERE

part 22 | first time thriving???

part 23 | worth the hype

part 24 | on my knees

part 25 | cuddles

part 26 | is this flirting

part 27 | s lUt?

part 28 | pigeons

part 29 | i like… 2 bois

part 30 | daddiest

part 31 | the daddiest meme

part 32 | our place

part 33 | my man hoseok a bottom?

part 34 | squidward of our hearts

part 35 | vagana owners feelings

part 36 | sign up for a broken heart

part 37 | taehyung is a bad influence | won my heart

part 38 | i love peaches | unlove 😤

end

JUNGKOOK

STOLE YOUR SHIRT

pairing; jungkook x reader

sum; the morning after a hook-up yn can't find her clothes. having no other choice she decides to steal one of jungkook's shirts, thinking she would never see him again. little does she know, jungkook had just transferred to her school for his last year.

genre; crack, fluff, slight angst, fake dating!au, f2l, highschool!au (they're both 18)

warnings; slight homophobic behavior, slight mention of abuse, tiny violence, mentions of bullying* (they're really slight like in only 1 or 2 parts)

side pairings; namjin, yoonseok

profile introductions

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

part nine

part ten

part eleven

part twelve

part thirteen

part fourteen

part fifteen

part sixteen

part seventeen

part eighteen

part nineteen

part twenty

part twenty one

part twenty two

part twenty three

part twenty four

part twenty five

part twenty six

part twenty seven

part twenty eight

part twenty nine

part thirty

part thirty one

end

*bullying is never okay unless you're bullying a pigeon !

bittersweet | jeon wonwoo (masterlist)

☆.*+ seventeen social media au

★ synopsis: in which y/n and wonwoo are forced to share an apartment in secret.

★ taglist: to join the taglist, sign up with the google form!

★ genre: good morning call!au, college!au, roommate!au, enemies to lovers, fake dating, angst, fluff, comedy

★ pairings: jeon wonwoo x female reader

★ start: june 18th, 2021     ★ end: july 23, 2021

☆.*+ profiles

★ profiles 1

★ profiles 2

★ profiles 3

☆.*+ chapters

★ prologue pt. 1

★ prologue pt. 2

★ one. our love is real

★ two. spice tolerance

★ three. broken

★ four. photo frame

★ five. iced americano

★ six. chefs kiss

★ seven. the rules

★ eight. national treasure

★ nine. if you're happy

★ ten. dilf

★ eleven. you can be my teacher

★ twelve. 71%

★ thirteen. healed

★ fourteen. hot girl summer

★ fifteen. photosynthesizing

★ sixteen. love u forever

★ seventeen. under the moonlight

★ eighteen. anything for you

★ nineteen. is your boyfriend single

★ twenty. exposed

★ twenty one. for the better

★ twenty two. i'll make it up to you

★ twenty three. new addition

★ bonus! binki

smokescreen | knj sm au

banner by: @dee-ehn

🖇 synopsis:

— don’t judge a book by its cover. unless the book is a six foot tall, dimpled muscle pig who has no problem bragging about the notches on his belt… not to mention his new unhinged determination to add you to the list.

pairing: rapper!namjoon x photographer!reader

fic type: social media au

side ships: yoonmin!! 2seok.

genre: smut!! idol au, enemies to lovers, boss/employee. angst… maybe

warnings: namjoon is a raging asshole and 100% fictional! i’m sure the real kim namjoon is a sweetheart - just not this one.

updates: everyday! (sometimes twice)

status: ongoing!!

A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

parts:

prologue: sunday morning scandal

character profiles: cypher v

character profiles: yoonmin stans ft. san

part one: caught in 4k

part two: slapping multimillionaires

bonus: under me

part three: work related

part four: unbelievably down

part five: snotty nose boy

part six: fucking obvious

part seven: alternate universe

part eight: strict asswipe

part nine: grossly whipped

part ten: unwashed dick

part eleven: borderline prostitution

part twelve: producer era

part thirteen: life changing

part fourteen: scared of myself

part fifteen: openly flirting

part sixteen: haven’t kissed

part seventeen: done searching

part eighteen: just peace

part nineteen: deep in like

part twenty: getting attached

part twenty-one: kinda friends

part twenty-two: real unfamiliar

part twenty-three: namjoons girlfriend

part twenty-four: no visitors

part twenty-five: feel comfortable

part twenty-six: real me

part twenty-seven: home

bonus: clearly delusional

part twenty-eight: creating sonnets

part twenty-nine: perfect moment (time jump)

epilogue: lucky shirt

epilogue: i like sushi

end

The Life We Build

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff ?? i think that's it

A/N: originally posted to my old blog (basicallybats). i was originally writing it as an eddie munson fic, but i really wanted it to be jason, so if you notice any typos or mistakes, no you don't. as always, thank you for reading! <3 i do not give permission to copy, repost, or use my work in any way.

~

"We need to go to the grocery store."

Your hands are buried in Jason's hair, thick waves curling around your fingers, soft and smelling faintly of your conditioner.

"Huh? Why?"

He tips his head back, so he can see your face, fingers freezing, a page caught between them. You recognize the book. It's your annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice. A soft smile curls at your lips, something painfully saccharine about the fact he prefers your copy; your thoughts.

"Because we have no food, Jay. Did you use my conditioner again?"

"Yeah."

"I know. I can smell it on you."

He snorts, eyes closing as you continue to massage his scalp, shaking his head lightly. "Then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted you to 'fess up. Now c'mon, we need to get food, for real. There's like, half a jar of peanut butter and a beer."

"Sounds like a decent enough dinner."

You remove your hands from his soft locks, and he whines, sitting up and carefully setting your book on the bed beside him. Jason doesn't want to go, you know that, can see the distaste and boredom brewing in his eyes already, but he will go, for you.

"Fine. Get dressed. Let's go."

You pull on an old, well-worn tee of his, slipping on your shoes and trailing him down the hall. He holds open the front door for you, locks it behind himself, jogs down the stairs to meet you at the passenger side door, swinging it open with a flourish.

The drive to the store is quiet, Jason tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the music on the radio, bobbing his head gently, one hand on your thigh. The smile on your face didn't go unnoticed as he snuck glances at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Gotham is a god-forsaken place. Smog, trash, the highest crime rate in the nation, and a mile-long list of casualties. Jason remembers what it felt like to be back. The whisper of trauma is at the forefront of his mind. The memories, good and bad, all shot through with something unshakeably bitter. Part of him will always love Gotham, just as part of him will always hate it. But you- You are beautiful. The sort of beautiful that frequently had his heart stalling, breath burning in his lungs when he forgot how to breathe at the sight of your sunny smile, and bright eyes. Your personality and laugh, uncensored and genuine.

You are Jason's diamond in the rough. He can't bring himself to hate Gotham quite the way he did before you, but he can't shake the thought that you'll never reach your full potential here. A flower without enough sunlight can't fully bloom. Fuck, everyone knows Gotham is where good things go to die.

As Jason grabs a shopping cart you walk next to him, sliding your arm through his, a sort of camaraderie.

"We should make a casserole this week," you suggest, eyes reading the signs above the aisles, trying to piece together a meal plan in your head.

"What kind of casserole?"

You sigh, distracted, uncertain. "I don't know. Never mind. I've never even made a casserole."

He bumps his hip against yours gently, silently asking for your attention. He waits until you look at him to speak, lips twitching into a soft smile. "We have that cookbook your grandma gave us. And lasagna counts as a casserole. You've made that plenty of times."

"Does it?"

"Sure."

He's bent on reassurance. Jason knows this is new; cooking is hardly your forte. It would be easier to let him do the cooking, but you've been so eager, and you're taking to it really well. He hates the insecurity bubbling in your voice, he wants it gone. At his insistence, you soften, a bit of tension leaving your shoulders as you nod.

"Okay, we can make lasagna. And what else?"

Your gaze catches on the fresh flowers, bright and fragrant, their sweet smell permeating the air. You look at Jason, desperately curious to see if they've caught his attention too, but they haven't. He's looking at a rack of magazines, leather jacket pulled taught across his shoulders, green eyes crinkling in the corners as he squints at the cover of the newest scandal magazine.

"Good God, Dick is on the cover of another fucking tabloid. I thought he-"

It's an odd thought, this sudden need to pick out flowers with your boyfriend. You long to talk about where you should put them, what color would match your sofa and look nicest in front of the window.

"Jason."

It's not the fact you use his name, his birth name, though this is unusual for you. It's always 'baby' or 'Jay' or 'babes'. No, it's the way you say it. Thick and serious, something he hadn't quite heard before, an almost severe expression taking over your pretty features.

"Y/N? Yeah, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing, just- Can we get some flowers?" He watches you shake your head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

It's the domesticity of it. A tender, mundane thing catching up to you as those things often do. Something painfully sweet about it, stability your life lacked until Jason. And now? Now going to the grocery store with him was better than anything you did before. Like cooking, like cleaning, like laying in bed all day, face pressed mercilessly into his skin, breathing him in as he reads to you, just because you could. It was an insatiable craving, one you needed fulfilled right now.

"Sure, baby. You wanna pick some out?"

Your nod is almost imperceptible, arm still curled around his, goosebumps creeping along your flesh. He sees. Sees the light in your eyes, knows you need this moment. Jason knows that every day like this erases those brutally lonely hours from before. Minutes marked with blood and grief, a bitter memory. He knows because these moments do the same for him, setting things right he wasn't sure could be fixed.

Fuck, he'll buy all the flowers here if it brings the carefree smile back to your lips. "What kind do you want?"

"I- I'm not sure. Anything. I'll know the right ones when I see 'em."

He peruses the bouquets, at a loss, this is far outside his comfort zone, but if it makes you happy.

Your wonder hurts his heart, wide eyes and shock every time you find new colors squished together, or flowers you haven't seen before. You should have been given flowers all the time. He checks the price of the bunch in his hands and winces. What he wouldn't give to buy you flowers like this every day. Maybe he should, he thinks.

"How about these?"

Your eyes fall on the wild bouquet of rich, wine roses, flowers in full bloom, overlapping each other, fighting for the gaze of the beholder. They're gorgeous, you can feel them without touching the silken petals, velvet. "They're nice."

He sees it on your face, the dismissal, the gentle rejection. The flowers are pretty, too pretty even, gaudy, and suffocating. They're the type of thing that would fit well in Bruce's home, but not yours. Far too formal, far too showy; you want something sweeter.

"They don't match… Anything at home."

"We'd have to pick weeds to match our apartment."

His words come too fast, voice flat, deadpan, shooting for humor, missing, falling by the wayside in a shallow bitterness. He sees the hurt in your expression the instant the words gush past his lips, a geyser of ill-timed distress. Fumbling, rushing forward, trying to make it right, he presses on. "I'm kidding. That was an exaggeration. We make a nice life. It's just we-"

He stops, letting the chatter of other patrons and the store radio fill the silence as he watches tears build in your eyes, shimmering beneath the harsh fluorescents.

"I'm kidding."

You know he wasn't. He meant the words, frustrated with dead-end jobs and your meager incomes, scraping by with just enough. He wanted more for you, more for himself, more of a future. But all you heard was the immediate dissatisfaction. It wasn't enough, it was never enough.

You shove the small cluster of sunflowers you're holding into his chest, plastic wrapping crinkling, flowers smushed against his chest with the severity of your action.

"I need to use the restroom. You can put these back. I'll meet you at the checkout."

"Baby I- Y/N!"

You run. There's not enough care in your bones to think about how odd it is for a grown woman to be running through the store, stumbling into the restroom, tears already tracking down her face.

Hands braced against the cool countertop, you stare at the water droplets scattered across the laminate from whoever last washed their hands. It's a fascinating pattern, water catching the light. A tear falls, splatters on the surface, and shines too. How pathetic are you that you're hiding in here, waiting for the onslaught of emotion to pass before you can face your boyfriend again? Before you can face his disdain?

Minutes drag by, the tears slowing and finally stopping. Red eyes stare back at you, bloodshot and hollow. With a harsh tug, you turn on the faucet, splashing cool water on your face, hoping it soothes the obvious signs of crying.

Time is up, you can't stall any longer. With a fortifying gulp of oxygen, you drag the paper towel harshly across your face, wiping away the water, and push the door open. Jason is waiting there, shopping cart abandoned a few feet away, leaning against the wall, local business cards pinned to the wall next to store notices, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Baby."

You're frozen, eyes locked on the overlapping flyers and cards on the wall over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. Jason can see it. The remnants of salt tracks on your cheeks, eyes red and puffy, lashes clumped together from the water you hastily splashed on your face in a harried attempt to cover your reaction. 

He wishes he could rewind, take back the past few minutes, and unsay those words, spare you the heartache. He knows he can't; it's a pointless wish, spent in vain like the coins he tossed in the well with his mother all those years ago. 

"Baby," he repeats, voice low, shoulders sagging when you ignore him. "Y/N, just look at me, please."

His voice isn't him, isn't Jason, viscid like a flower soaked with dew, drooping beneath his regret. He's too pretty, too serious, you shouldn't let him wallow in it, you know that. But his words were too real, too close to that oozy, rotten spot in your heart that cries for acceptance. 

It takes everything in you to drag your gaze to his, jarring when you meet those eyes, deep and sorry, churning like an earthen ocean, soil and sediment devouring itself. It's like watching the earth cave in. It's alarming, unsettling, it makes you want to touch his face and beg for the promise that it's all okay. 

Is it though?

"I'm sorry. What I said- It came out wrong. I would never insult the life we've built, I-"

"You did though, Jay. You did insult it. You pissed all over it."

Jason winces at your bluntness, nearly an idiom, yet far from it. He focuses on your words, playing them over and over, watching your lips twist sardonically, building a wall around yourself. "It's fine, okay? I get it."

"No, you don't." He finds his voice, gruff with the nasty feeling building in his stomach, unable to be gentle in the wake of his own despondency. 

"Can we just go home? I don't want to have this conversation here."

Movements stilted, uncoordinated he moves to the abandoned shopping cart, hands wrapping around the handle in a white-knuckled grip. He takes two steps, yanks the cart back, and turns to you so abruptly that you nearly collide with his chest. 

"No. No, we are going to have this conversation now, otherwise you'll never have it. You know damn well I wasn't insulting you, or our home, or our life."

Blank-faced, eyes a hollow shade of their usual verdancy, you don't show any sign you really heard his words. 

He's never felt this before, desperate and shaky with wanting- no needing you to understand. Why does this feel so insurmountable? His hands land on your shoulders, large, hot, scarred, shaking just enough to inspire a rise out of you. 

You swat his hands away, fresh tears burning tracks down your face, humiliating, telling. "I care, okay! Damn you, Jason, I care!"

You suck in air too fast, choke on it, a strangled sob dancing on your lips, free falling. Hands useless on his chest, feigning a shove, curling in his soft tee shirt and pulling him closer. Tucked away in your little nook, no one is around, no one sees the mania tainting the air. Lovers begging forgiveness for the transgression of misunderstanding. 

He buries his face in your hair, hiding his face, hiding his relief at your touch, at your admission. "I care too. I care that I've tied you to this hell hole with almost no chance of getting out."

"You don't get it, do you?"

Jason can barely hear, your voice smothered by his chest, the fabric of his shirt, his hearing a bit unreliable from too many head wounds. "Get what?"

"I don't want more. I don't want... I don't know what you envision, but my happiness is this. Buying groceries with you and, and- Gotham. My happiness is fucking Gotham if I'm here with you. I don't need-"

"You deserve-"

"Do not interrupt me, Jason Todd!"

He recoils, stung, chastised, conceding quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. "Okay."

"I do not need anything more. I don't need a big house or a safer city to play in or whatever it is you think I ought to have. Deserve? I don't even know what that means. But I want you, and I'm content with this life. Until you start picking it apart and making it seem like it's not good enough for you. I cannot tolerate that. I won't." 

He waits, the silence stretching on and on, like the fraying string on a shirt that refuses to snap, until he is certain you're finished.

"You're right."

"That's all?"

"No. It's much more than that. But-"

He releases you, feeling your hands release his shirt slowly, confused as he steps back, raking his hands through his hair. 

"You asked me so nicely for flowers. Let's start again. And we can finish at home, like you asked."

You blink. Once, twice, three times, trying to process, waiting to see if any argument floats to the surface of thought, but none does. Nodding, you step to his side, following him quietly to the tables of flowers once more. 

It happens at the same moment, your eyes find the simple bunch of sunflowers and baby's breath the second his do. Understated and sweet, the type of flowers to catch your eye and hold it with a strange fascination. 

"These?" you ask, eyes never leaving the buds, fingers tentatively caressing the soft petals. 

"Yeah. I like those. They're pretty."

They are pretty. And suddenly, you need to see him, touch him. Placing the bouquet back you turn to him, cool hands pressed to his warm cheeks, eyes tracing soft lips, and the strong line of his nose. Those eyes that say secret things to you, things his lips could never speak. The panic and overwhelming nature of the trip are still fresh in your mind, but his eyes say he understands, his eyes reflect the same image as yours and it's less. Less upsetting, less frustrating, less misconstrued. 

"I get it too."

Your words soothe the cuts on his heart, shallow and stinging like paper cuts. His lips are on yours before he knows what's happening, no self-control left at this moment.

It's over too fast, a promise, a vow, an apology. You know; you feel it, trying to pass over all of your love in return. It's enough, more than enough because he smiles when he pulls away, kisses a trail up your nose to your forehead, and into your hairline. 

"I love you, Jay."

"I love you, Y/N."

Gotham isn't much, your apartment isn't much, and a single bouquet of flowers in your drab little living room is hardly anything at all. But it's plenty for you, plenty for Jason. It's enough.