Seokjin X ‘deco Kit’ Photoshoot Sketch

summary - girls like you aren’t normally seen with guys like him, but he’s nothing like what you think

pairing - stoner!yoongi x good girl!reader

side pairing - taekook

genre - fluff, tiny drama; college au, stoner au

fic type - social media

status - completed

playlist - here 

part zero 🍃 profiles

part one 🍃 good for it

part two 🍃 scouts honor

part three 🍃 pregame

part four 🍃 wanna try?

part five 🍃 only curious

part six 🍃 friends now

bonus 🍃 man of the hour

part seven 🍃 as a feminist

part eight 🍃 not my girl

part nine 🍃 whipped already

part ten 🍃 just coffee

part eleven 🍃 bad influence

part twelve 🍃 movie maybe

part thirteen 🍃 assigned partners

part fourteen 🍃 later angel

part fifteen 🍃 working on it

part sixteen 🍃 stupid cheesy

part seventeen 🍃 long enough

part eighteen 🍃 hoodie thief

part nineteen 🍃 pick me up

part twenty 🍃 okay, baby

part twenty-one 🍃 proper date

part twenty-two 🍃 formal introduction

part twenty-three 🍃 over yet

part twenty-four 🍃 my boy

bonus 🍃 touch up

part twenty-five 🍃 lose you

part twenty-six 🍃 want to talk

part twenty-seven 🍃 wrong chat

part twenty-eight 🍃 respect that

part twenty-nine 🍃 ready to talk

bonus 🍃 dumb not stupid

part thirty 🍃 happy circumstance

party thirty-one 🍃 lucky you what

part thirty-two 🍃 here goes nothing

part thirty-three 🍃 groceries to run

part thirty-four 🍃 not yet but soon

part thirty-five 🍃 you’re happy

bonus 🍃 excited for dinner

part thirty-six 🍃 tell my baby

part thirty-seven 🍃 i love you

end 🍃 epilogue

bonus 🍃 my good girl (m)

sooooo… am i the only one who prefers john ambrose over peter?

guitar string : l.jh

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lee jihoon (svt) x gender neutral reader

warning(s) / includes | running away, mentions of arranged marriage (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, angst, royal au

note | written with @ohmygoshcheese in mind for the carat admirer event 💗 hi rachel, i’m your carat admirer hehe <33 it’s been so fun getting to know and i hope we can continue interacting after this event 🥺 i’m not sure if this counts as a fantasy au but i hope you like this lil drabble i wrote for you, happy valentine’s day hehe :>

a/n: sorry i can’t really think of a summary but dw it’s pretty straightforward ;-; also three fics in three days? who is she? 😍 (more to come btw hehe)

“Take me away.”

Jihoon’s elegant fingers, previously plucking at his guitar strings, freeze at your words. The soothing, lullaby-like chords he had been playing echo into the inky darkness, carried away by the chilly night breeze.

His head snaps up, finding you staring into the distance forlornly, eyes misting over as the corners of your lips turn down melancholically.

“P-Pardon, Your Highness?” The title you’ve come to loathe spills from his lips out of force of habit before he can catch himself.

Heavy is the exhale that leaves you when you turn to him. He’s found you enchanting ever since the moment you met, but perhaps even more so under the silvery luminescence of the moon during your clandestine meetings on the marble balcony of your quarters.

Yet, as you gaze at him with what can only be ascribed to pure, unadulterated sadness, the deep frown that mars your features threatens to settle permanently, and the hollows of your face are now hauntingly accentuated by the moonlight.

“Take me away,” you repeat, a little firmer this time, “I cannot bear a moment of this any longer.”

Two weeks. Two weeks had gone by since your father announced your betrothal to a neighbouring prince to unite your kingdoms. Of course, Jihoon was with you that very night, guitar abandoned at the edge of your bed in favour of stroking your hair with your head laid in his lap.

“But I don’t love him,” you whisper. Tears escape the corner of your eye, rolling down your smooth cheeks like crystalline dewdrops on petals at dawn. “I hardly know him, Jihoon. How am I supposed to marry him?”

“Perhaps… you’ll grow to love him.” Against his will, his voice cracks towards the end, the lump lodged in his throat ever growing. Invisible vines wrap around the column of his neck in a phantom force, constricting his breathing at the thought that in a month, you will truly be another’s.

Jihoon has always known that falling in love with you came with a hefty cost. To put it quite simply, your paths were not meant to cross. He was a mere musician who happened to receive the honour of entertaining the royal family at your father’s fiftieth birthday; he was not supposed to meet your eyes as he walked off the stage, he was not supposed to accept when you summoned him to the palace a week later requesting private guitar lessons, he was not supposed to let you in when you both knew that this relationship was fated for doom from the very beginning.

You smile, bittersweet and knowing. “I don’t think I can love him, Jihoon.”

Because my heart has long been yours.

Deep down, you knew this would happen. Born into royalty, you understood your role as a mere chess piece in a game much larger than your happiness, or yourself for that matter. The majority of your life was spent moulding you to become the perfect ruler, or rather—the perfect consort to your future spouse. You knew it was coming, yet reality had only truly sunken in with your father’s announcement: your life would never be truly yours.

Unless you did something about it.

Countless times in the past, you’ve confided in him about your desire to run away, yet you continue to remain out of fear, guilt, and responsibility. This time, however, it feels different. There’s something about your demeanour tonight that has uneasiness bubbling in his stomach.

“I… I cannot do that, Y/N.”

He feels your piercing stare searing through his side profile. “Is it… is it because you’re afraid of being caught with me? B-Because I will not dare ask you to stay with me after we cross the borders if that is not what you wish to do.”

Jihoon’s heart aches at your words. He loves you, deeply, and he loathes that he’s planted a seed of doubt in your mind which led you to the conclusion that he does not wish to be with you. Truthfully, he’s thought about offering to run away with you as well, but a little voice at the back of his head dissuades him from doing so each time.

Thus, he shakes his head, woefully, regretfully. “No, it has nothing to do with that…”

“Then why not?” you demand, eyes now fierce with defiance as you briskly cross the balcony towards the ornate chair he sat in. Jihoon flinches when you fall to your knees, your robes forming silky, luxurious waves at his feet.

“Ever since my father announced my engagement, I have spent restless nights questioning the remainder of my life,” you continue, staring up with him with glassy, pleading eyes, “and I’ve decided I no longer want to be confined to one where I cannot be happy nor free.”

A part of you hardly believes you’ve been reduced to such a state. You grew up believing no request of yours was too preposterous or unimaginable, everywhere you went you were accompanied by easily a dozen attendants whose lives depended on catering to your every whim. And yet look at you now—begging like a commoner.

It’s refreshing. It makes you feel human because for once in your life, you’re not just a puppet on strings or a little canary in a cage.

“I don’t have anything I can give you,” Jihoon whispers. His clammy hands find yours and clutches tightly. The drags of his rough, callused finger pads against your soft, unflawed skin is a painful reminder of his inability to give you the life he thinks you deserve. “With him, you will have more lands and jewels and riches… all I have is the guitar on my back. I cannot give you a comfortable life, Y/N. I… I can only give you my love.”

“Can’t you see, Jihoon?” you weep, tears falling behind shut eyes, “that’s all I desire! I only ask for a life with someone who loves me, not someone who sees me as a diplomatic tool.”

He rests his forehead on yours, one of his hands reaching up to find the side of your face as his thumb catches the salty trails. “You can’t go back if I take you away. Have you thought this through?”

“I have, and I don’t care if I have to run from them for the rest of my life. I only want to be with you. If… if you’ll have me, t-that is…”

Jihoon smiles comfortingly at the insecure wobble in your voice, rubbing soothing circles at your temple in an attempt to ease your doubts. “Of course I do, my love,” he tells you, “but the last thing I want is for you to live with regrets. I roam faraway lands in search of new muses alone until I came to your kingdom and met you, I’m used to a life of running. You… you’d be leaving your family, everything you’ve ever had and known behind with little to no chance to return. I only wish you happiness in life, but I have fears you won’t find it with me either.”

“I’m willing to take that risk. I just want to live a normal life… with you.”

He searches your eyes for any trace of hesitation, any sign of apprehension towards the thought of starting anew with absolutely nothing to your name. What he unearths instead is unyielding resolution swimming in your hardened gaze; his heart still hammers in his rib cage like a war drum—after all, the consequences should the two of you get caught will most certainly be severe, and perhaps deadly—but your determination eases a little of that fear. Now, he's never been a particularly optimistic person, but the sliver of hope that still exists within him makes him want to believe he is worthy, that you will find happiness with him.

And it is that little splinter that leads to his next words. “Then we better start preparing, my love. We don’t have much time.”

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be on horseback past the borders of your kingdom in the dark of night, with only endless plains ahead of you and your belongings packed in a single sack, you’d surely dismiss them with a wave of your hand. Little did you know that you’d soon meet a travelling musician with infinite talent and somehow even more love in his heart for you.

The castle you grew up in is now a speck in the distance. Strangely enough, you don’t feel an ounce of longing or regret. If they were willing to give you away, who could blame you for running?

Jihoon observes you quietly from a few paces ahead. “It’s not too late to go back,” he tells you.

You shake your head, turning back to him with a smile as your horse trots onwards to catch up to him. Pale is the starlight that lays gentle kisses on your faces, and as you look up at the endless glittering diamonds that will guide your way, you know in your heart that this is only the true beginning of your life. Jihoon seems to realise this too, because when your eyes shift from the cosmos above to lock onto his, he offers you a warm smile.

“Let’s keep going, love,” he says softly, nodding towards the long journey ahead of you. “Let’s go home.”

(And when Jihoon marries you a year later with a ring fastened from a string he plucked from an old guitar, one passed down onto him by his father, you knew you had made the right choice.

You never left home, because he was with you all along.)

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 😽!!

souvenir

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: shouldn’t this be the part where you tell him not to stay out too late?

alternatively, yoongi thinks you hate him because you don’t coddle him after a fight.

[ So Much Pining but they’re already in a relationship lol, some angst from a lil fight, yoongi likes being chased but u don’t indulge him this time, 10/10 wholesome ]

notes: a little something as i come back to writing <3 this is a new fic universe altogether and may be a slice of life series :O

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Yoongi relishes in being difficult.

He’s difficult in the way that he’s stubborn for whatever it is, no matter how low he could stoop. It’s definitely a working progress, but your boyfriend just stillhasn’t shaken the urge to always have the last say.

It wasn’t a deep control thing, honestly — Yoongi just really loves pushing your buttons. 

If Yoongi could find a route to piss you off, he’d take a million little detours in the process just for you to take the cake by the end of it. When you present to him a simple yes or no question, he’d find a way to shift the topic altogether for your conversation to go absolutely nowhere.

He’s annoying, there’s really no doubt about it. It was a learning curve at first because seeing your then-boyfriend (now your husband) become snarky at you for surprisingly no reason at all wasn’t exactly the best feeling. All it took was a simple call to Jin, Yoongi’s closest friend, to make you realize that he was just being playful. Your boyfriend being a brat to you, simply put into words, is his love language.

It’s the tiny accumulative moments where he purposely irritates you that in hindsight, it’s become oddly endearing. 

When you pick where to order take-out because Yoongi keeps saying whatever, he whines to no end once the food arrives because apparently, it’s not what he had in mind. You used to be so pissed about it that you’ll order what he wants, but nowadays, you just tell him to suck it up and put more food on his plate.

When you do all the laundry in one go (no, the colors don’t bleed together) and Yoongi insists that you do separate batches for each color that he could enumerate, you would try and appease him by pretending to separate each one. Now, all that Yoongi gets is a high-pitched sarcastic compliment for knowing all his colors.

Whatever Yoongi purposely gave you to incite a reaction, it all melted into your understanding that this was just him. You’re no longer affected by the tiny little things because weirdly enough, they no longer serve its purpose of annoying you. 

It’s just like taking care of Ginger, the spoiled little family cat you grew to take care of back in your childhood home. When she was still a kitten, she’d purposely go up your shelves, look at you in the eye before dropping an item, and you’re leaping after the orange devil to reprimand her. When she became an adult, she still had the same annoying tendencies, and yet you evolved enough not to even bat an eye when she does it now.

Yoongi being annoying to you now isn’t the same thing of him being annoying to you back then. What you used to hate, you now tolerate. What used to piss you off, now makes you endeared. When your husband pushes your buttons now, you’re reminded of how much more mischievous he used to be and the memories that came with it.

This is now your peak — there’s really nothing Yoongi could do that make you fazed anymore.

In a great bout of karma, this is Yoongi’s trough. 

You barely give him an adverse reaction nowadays and that scares him right to his core because you used to be soenthusiastic over him. There’d be days where he picks fights intentionally and you’d spend the whole night trying to make it up to him, even if he necessarily wasn’t in the right.

Yoongi thinks that he’s witnessing himself being old news right in front of you and it scares him. 

You’re more well-versed when it comes to this. You’re the more attentive, more vocal lover between the two of you. You’re the one who can read minds and interpret actions. You’re the one who tends to be more confrontational and he’s the passive one. You’re the one who makes sure that a night wouldn’t pass without the two of you making up.

Yoongi, who thought this was the best thing he’s ever thought of until twenty minutes ago, decides to rekindle your romance by picking a fight with you.

Twenty minutes later, he’s never regretted a decision more in his life.

“I’m going out.” 

He announces as the last resort, head pounding because the fight became bigger than necessary. It’s 9 in the evening and he isn’t even dressed to be going out, his matching pajamas with you too soft and too worn to be even seen wearing while driving in the comfort of his own car.

Yoongi feels tears pricking in his eyes because clearly you laid onto him just as much as he made digs at you tonight, but what’s even more hurtful is that looking at you now, you don’t even look as startled as he is.

Maybe it’s just his mind. His silly, smooth, little mind that thinks the fight was bigger than it actually was. It was just a tiny argument about him baselessly accusing you of not putting in any effort that went off-topic for a brief second. In reality, it really was just a casual fight that most married couples have on a rare weekend but to Yoongi, it was explosive.

It was far more hurtful than he anticipated because in his eyes now, you don’t love him that much anymore.

“Okay. Go ahead,” you mumble for him to hear, putting away leftovers like any other night. You meticulously wrap the plates with cling wrap, your back turned to him when you mutter. “I hope the door hits your ass on the way out.”

“O-oh?” Yoongi backtracks when he hears your go-ahead, literally shell-shocked to see that you’re not stopping him. He wipes away his tears before you turn your neutral gaze back to him, swallowing the lump on his throat. “I’m going now. To get some air.”

“Okay, Yoongi.”

He’s done this before. There’s been fights where you tell him not to walk out on you and he complies. There’s also been fights where he walks out anyways, but you’d always tell him I love you and not to stay out too late.

He’s attempting the second option because clearly, you’re not pleading for him to talk this out and later on could the two of you get some air together.

“I’m really, really going now.”

He looks at you with shaky eyes, clearly pleading for you to indulge him by making him stay. 

You see right through him. You see right through your husband and in any other day would you just laugh this off, but tonight isn’t working for you. You were tired from work, Yoongi picked a fight with you for no reason, and you neither have the energy to tolerate nor chase him.

Every now and then, you should stop coddling Yoongi and give him exactly what he claims to want.

“Okay. Bye.”

You leave no room for any more replies, sauntering over the stairs without looking back.

Yoongi doesn’t want to look like a coward for not following through what he said so he audibly opens the door with the creak being heard all the way up the stairs. He’s not even a fourth out of the door but his bottom lip already blubbers, legs trembling from another type of chill that his pajamas can’t protect him from.

Shouldn’t this be the part where you tell him not to stay out too late?

( ♡ )

It’s 9:30 on a Saturday, Yoongi’s at a friend’s club wearing his sleeping pajamas on, drinking Pocari Sweat because crying on the way here really dehydrated him.

Yoongi is not doing well.

Jin’s originally here to survey his club at a peak night, but that plan went downhill as soon as Yoongi spotted him and immediately clung to his back asking for electrolyte water.

“Call Y/N using my phone.”

Yoongi mumbles when the two of them are settled at a secluded booth, all the noise being significantly decreased but not enough for it to be unrecognizable that he’s at a club through a phone call.

“And why exactly would I do that?” Jin snorts, already having an inkling to know where this is going from having a quick run-down from your husband himself.

He’s just about to lecture him with the words he’s always been wanting to say; something along the words that Yoongi’s bratty tendencies were eventually gonna bite him in the ass hard.

Seokjin doesn’t get to do that though because a phone is thrust to his face that it almost punches him, making him faux spit into nothing and wave off his bodyguards standing at a distance from him.

“Quick. She’s probably worried sick about me!” Yoongi convinces Jin, or atleast tries to because he’s the one that needs it. You’re probably wondering where he is, right? There may be no texts in his inbox, but who’s to say that you’re telepathically texting him to ask what time he’s coming home… right?

“No she’s not,” he sing-songs. He plans to annoy his friend for about 98% the time he’s going to be here (he’s gonna send him home to you anyway before 10:30) and the other 2% for semi-sincere consoling.

Then an idea pops into Jin’s head.

“What should I say?” he suddenly and eagerly takes up Yoongi on his request, not waiting for an answer before the perfect scenario pops in his head. “Ah wait, let me be in charge of that.”

Jin’s already pressing to call you much faster to Yoongi’s expectations because he really thought that it would take more amounts of convincing to do this. The phone’s put on speaker and as soon as it rings, Yoongi feels the urge to duck. He’s steadily about to snatch his phone back but you answer your phone even faster than he could do that.

“Hi Y/N!” Seokjin beams and it makes you smile from the other end, a clue already being filled in your head where exactly your husband went to. “Whatcha doing?” 

Jin makes conversation with you on Yoongi’s phone, sleazily smiling as he takes it off of speaker as soon as his friend hears your voice. Yoongi clearly takes an outrage with that but he contains it when Jin fully extends his arm out, holding him back by the face.

“Ugh, did you make popcorn? No way, not one burnt kernel? I knew it-!” Jin yelps when Yoongi bites his palm, quickly standing up from his seat in the booth so Yoongi couldn’t catch up with him. “I told you- I told you that brand’s way better!” 

“She’s not asking why you’re using my phone?” Yoongi whisper-yells as he circles around Seokjin, hands anxiously attempting to grab his phone back. “She’s not asking about me?”

Jin hears him loud and clear but he pretends not to, only sparing a glance. “Did you use the microwave preset? Personally I recommend only popping it in for two minutes and fifteen seconds because- motherfucker!”

Yoongi pinches him by the nape quite harshly like how you’d do with a kitten and it makes Jin freeze for a brief second, stealing his phone back with the call on-going.

“Y/N!” he almost yells to the phone, the momentary silence making it sink to him that he’s finally talking to you after so long. 

Read: it has only been forty minutes.

“What?” you groan into the phone, pushing your voice to be further disinterested. You’re no longer mad at him anymore — you’re just having some bit of fun at this point.

“I-I...” the words dissolve quickly on his tongue, the taste being bitter once again even when he was certain that the Pocari washed it out earlier. Yoongi says the next best thing he could that first pops up into his head, the random blurting of words being amusing even for Jin’s bodyguards.

“I uhm, I have a splinter.”

“Then take it out.”

“It hurts,” he whines at another attempt, screwing his eyes shut at the secondhand embarrassment because from the corner of his eye, one of the three bodyguards is actually clutching at his stomach from laughing. 

“Have Jin do it for you then.”

“Jin and I are in the club, by the way!” he reminds you, perking up slightly now that you indirectly acknowledged where he is and who he’s with.

“Mhmm.”

Just one last pathetic attempt of skirting around and if it doesn’t work, Yoongi will immediately come home to you.

“Is the popcorn good?” 

Read: it doesn’t work.

Jin steals his phone back before he could even hear your response to his dumb-witted question, getting a painful run-down from his friend instead. “You’re painful to watch, y’know that?”

He sighs disappointedly at Yoongi, rolling his eyes before pressing the phone to his ear. “So? What’s it taste like? It’s not really oily, I told you already. The cheese doesn’t smell obnoxious either. Because actually — exactly! It doesn’t stain your fingers!”

Yoongi… will lose it. But before he loses it completely, he gathers all his remaining sanity to continue your tradition while Jin keeps you preoccupied. He spots two things quickly and puts it into his arms with no semblance of shame, even if Jin’s bodyguards saw him technically shoplifting. Yoongi thinks it doesn’t count as such because Jin already knows about the tradition between the two of you, and as predicted, his friend just waves him off in acknowledgement.

It’s a tiny tradition.

Whenever one of you goes somewhere without the other, it’s a rule to bring back a souvenir. There’s no specifications to it, just whatever item you could bring back as proof that you thought about the other while you were out.

Some of the souvenirs you brought home to Yoongi: a pretty rock, a duvet cover, a liter of hand sanitizer, a designer card wallet, and a scrunchie with his name embroidered on it.

Some of the souvenirs Yoongi brought home to you: a fancy teaspoon, a hotel pillow, ten perfume testers at the same time, a remote holder, and a teddy bear with his voice as its squeezable heart.

Yoongi thinks that he doesn’t have shoplifting tendencies but in hindsight of some of the souvenirs he’s gotten you, there may be a pattern to it.

“You brought home... a shot glass.”

You look at the tiny glass, the remnants of electrolyte water still swishing around it.

“Wrong,” he sternly replies, bringing an item from behind his back that couldn’t be anymore obvious even if he tried. “I brought home a shot glass and a tiny potted plant.”

“Since when did bars have potted plants?” you mutter in disbelief, taking the miniature bonsai from him and looking at it in wonder.

“Since tonight! Jin’s, I don’t know, entrepreneurial like that. I wanted to show it to you so I brought it home.”

Your husband says it’s like the most obvious thing to do; his desire for you to know that he indeed thought about you while he was gone manifesting into bringing home one shot glass, and one tiny bonsai to prove it.

“You stole it, Yoongs.”

The amusement lilts in your voice and Yoongi catches on to it, but he just can’t seem to let it go, a little upset that you’re focused on him “stealing” it instead of the fact that he’d go through whatever lengths for you.

“Again, I brought it home because I wanted you to see it!”

“You could’ve just sent me a picture,” you giggle, setting down the pot on your side table. You peel back the covers you momentarily left, patting the spot beside you and Yoongi clearly could not have went to bed any more eager than this.

“How was I supposed to know?” he mumbles in defeat, a frown on his face. “You probably would’ve iced me out.”

“You didn’t even ask me what time I’d get home.” 

Yoongi sighs and even if the moment’s already been significantly lightened with the souvenirs, it brings you a greater relief now that your husband’s choosing to say what’s exactly bothering him instead of pissing you off.

“You didn’t even chase me through the door! I didn’t even want to go!” he’s almost one step into a tantrum and you have to hold him by the arm to not get too carried away by reminiscing, rolling your eyes when you hold him closer.

“You went out because you thought I’d chase you.”

“Exactly,” he affirms, albeit a little upset now that he’s confirmed you knew all along. “Can’t you just chase after me?” Yoongi asks innocently, soft eyes staring you down.

The moment’s too tender that it makes your shoulders hunch, hand automatically moving to the side of his face to guide him into nuzzling into the crook of your neck — a move he looks forward to especially after tonight.

“I’m not always gonna chase after you, Yoongi,” you confide, lips brushing on his temple. “You’re just so damn stubborn sometimes. Like, makes-my-jaw-clench type of stubborn.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi sincerely apologizes, his face still buried to your neck with his arms clinging around your middle. “I guess I’m just so used to you making amends with me that it makes me act out on purpose.”

Yoongi faults himself at the end of the night this time, without your prompting, and you can’t deny that it makes your heart full.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

He lifts his head up to look at you directly, lips puffed into a pout with his eyes in slow blinks. “Yoongi’s very sorry.”

Maybe you spoke too soon. Maybe Yoongi’s just always gonna be slightly annoying.

“Did you just talk about yourself in third-person?” you mumble, eyes suddenly snapping open when it sinks into you.

“Isn’t it cuter that way? Is it working?” your husband heartily laughs, stretching his arms out to put around you and invade your personal space even more. “Why, do you feel it working?”

“I don’t know what to feel about it, that’s for sure,” you chuckle, the atmosphere completely lightened at this point.

“I promise I’ll try not to be difficult anymore. Won’t piss you off either.”

“That doesn’t happen overnight, Yoonie.” 

Yoongi’s just… mischievous. His love language was to pull stuff with you and although it keeps you on your toes more often than necessary, you wouldn’t be tired of him.

“Tell you what, promise me this instead,” you turn right when Yoongi was about to do it himself so he could bury his face to the crook of your neck again, blinking owlishly to listen at what you have to say.

“Try to chase after me too. Let me be the difficult one sometimes.” 

Yoongi smiles, the switch being more than intriguing. “M’kay. That’s not as hard to promise doing.”

The concept of it makes him happy too much that it lingers there, reverting back to calling you his term of endearment for you and that’s when you know that there’s nothing left unresolved between the two of you now.

“I like that, bear. You should try picking fights with me too. It’s fun sometimes, trust me!”

“I can tell,” you hum, blindly reaching out your arm to turn off the nightlight at your side.

“Yoongi likes that.”

“Stop talking about yourself in third person.”

“I think it’s already growing on me,” Yoongi admits, tilting his head and knowing for a fact that it would take more than fifteen minutes to sleep tonight while in thought.

“Is it gonna stick?” 

The groan leaves you automatically and by the lack of response, you already know your answer.

“Bear,” you hum. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna pick a fight with you tomorrow, alright?”

“M’kay! Remind me tomorrow what time you’re gonna start pissing me off, yeah?” he grins from ear to ear, not requiring a nightlight to see that your husband looks at you so fondly.

“Good night, baby,” Yoongi finally bids you, pressing a tender kiss right to your lips before tucking you with the comforter exactly how you liked it. “Loving you is my favorite part of the chase.”

how wonwoo says “i love you” for the first time 💌

he carries you all the way to the bathroom, bridal style and all, just so he can clean your knee. he stays silent as he helps you sit down on the edge of the bathtub and even when you wince in pain, his lips are sealed in a thin line. you look at wonwoo every once in awhile as he dabs your knee with a sterile gauze, noticing the wrinkles that formed between his eyebrows as he inspects your bleeding knee.

you reach out to smooth the wrinkles between his eyebrows with your fingertips and he momentarily stops his movements just to look at you. “i’m sorry,” you finally speak, your lower lip jutting out to let him know just how sorry you are for being so careless.

he shakes his head, and returns his attention back to your cut. he cleans your cut in no time and he leaves you to sit on the edge whilst he throws the red gauze in the bin. you stare at him through the mirror as he washes his hands and his face remains unreadable.

“woo i said i’m sorry,” you attempt to stand up but one look at you through the mirror sends you back down. “why’d you have to be so carelesss yn?” he finally replies, spinning around and leaning against the sink.

“i just wanted to surprise ‘s all,” you mumble, your head dropping in embarrassment. you wanted to surprise him for your 6th monthsary but after tangling yourself with the fairy lights and falling off the stool, the ruckus had him running down from his bedroom to the living room where he found you laying on the floor. he didn’t know his heart could drop so low at the sight of you.

“i really don’t get why we have to celebrate our 6th month together,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. he closes the gap between you two as he kneels between your legs. he cups your cheeks with his warm hands. wonwoo loses his train of thoughts as he continues to look into your eyes and without being able to stop himself, he whispers the three words you’ve been aching to hear from him.

“i love you okay? i don’t need any fairy lights or a blanket fort, i just want you.”

you grin so widely at his words that the pain coursing through your knees subsides momentarily. you cup his cheeks in your hands too, placing a long and soft kiss on his lips.

“i love you too.”

daddy diaries

daddy diaries

❀masterlist❀

→ pairing: singledad!yoongi x baker!reader

→ genre: all floof, teeny bit of angst (?)

→ summary: yoongi started blogging his life on his social medias to prove everyone who thought he couldn’t raise a child alone wrong. but as his daughter’s birthday draws near, what happens when she wishes for a new mom?

a/n: hehe, who else has a soft spot for bts dad aus 🥺 this will start right after the htfab series :3

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

intro

part one: it’s fate

part two: forgetful

part three: mi amigos es tu amigos

part four: last one buys food

part five: new addition

part six: a party’s a party

part seven: reverse card

part eight: good night

part nine: slow down

part ten: spill it sis

part eleven: …cute

part twelve: at the pool

part thirteen: surprise

part fourteen: #newprofilepic

part fifteen: it’s kinda hot

part sixteen: he’s crying now

part seventeen: babiest baby

part eighteen: y’all hear something

part nineteen: cardiac arrest

part twenty: can i crash on your couch

part twenty-one: we had a clown

part twenty-two: wishlist

part twenty-three: two birds

part twenty-four: my daughter’s life

part twenty-five: honey bunny

part twenty-six: chaotic

part twenty-seven: y’all know

part twenty-eight: use your teeth

finale

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

taglist: send me an ask to be added!

taglist is closed! please turn on my notifications to be notified when i update :)

[babies instagrams:

yoongi: kimibbong1317

namjoon: 2ah.in

jungkook: tokki.dadam

jin: wooju_mom]

basketballcaptain!yoongi

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: basketball captain x water girl, cheesy cheesy stuff, the FLUFFIEST fluff, jungoo is an idiot, humour, nSFW = smut, cocky yoongi, spoiler alert yoongi does a body shot off of u it just be like that sometimes 

→ wordcount: 18.4k this will definitely make the app crash as per usual don’t come for me 

→ note: um can we talk about how attractive yoongi is when he spins a basketball on his finger like that,,, anyWays HAPPY DECEMBER (it’s my frickin birthday monTH) this is one day late and it’s almost 3am but i pulled thru and i was like i promised bball yoongi and that’s what i have 2 deliver to my children!! i hope u guys like this!!! pleaSE flood my inbox i love hearing back from y’all <3

pst if u wanna talk to y/n or kook or captain yoongs u know what to do ;-)

(gif isn’t mine!) 

(((and the read more function iS there but most of the time it doesn’t work on mobile :// i am sorry don’t attack me by sending passive-aggressive anon messages)))

somehoW someway jungkook managed to squirm himself into the upperclassmen’s basketball team which not only meant there that was no longer a water-boy but also that because of basketball practice you and kook wouldn’t be able to hang out as much anymore

and he’s used to seeing you every day because you’re his best friend okAy

y’all have been friends since the first day of uni during orientation when he spilt his banana milk all over himself and you immediately rushed over with napkins AND you gave him your chocolate milk instead (ur mom told u to seize all opportunities of friend-making and that was the one you happened to choose)

Keep reading

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

not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing. 

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.  

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”  

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.  

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?” 

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”   

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said. 

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you. 

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you. 

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone. 

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased. 

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.