Sugar Free | Ksj Sm Au

sugar free | ksj sm au

🖇 synopsis:

– rich, spoiled and a bit of a womanizer. but underneath all of that, there’s a heart of gold. and no matter how determined she is to reject him, he won’t stop trying until she sees he’s kinda sweet.

pairing: richboi!jin x artist!reader

fic type: social media au

side ships: yoonmin. taekook.

genre: college!au | angst, a little bit of smut.

status: completed

updates: every other day.

A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask!

parts:

prologue

character profiles: jin and friends

character profiles: yn and friends

part one: party boy

part two: gambling man

part three: hundred bucks

part four: not interested

part five: dress code

part six: dating rich

part seven: second date

part eight: ass naked

part nine: get even

part ten: forgive him

part eleven: louis vuitton

part twelve: grand gesture

part thirteen: moved on

part fourteen: they kissed

part fifteen: starting over

epilogue (1)(2)

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.

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agustdyoons

3 years ago

hello! can i request an at home coffee date w yoongi? smth like yoongi cleans 'round the house and its warm and pretty and when reader enters the house after a rough day its filled w the smell of coffee (i love coffee too <3) and its just reaallllly fluffy? thank u for your time on this. and thank u in adv if you write this request. hope ure doing well!💖

COFFEE & CUDDLES ; myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: so. much. fluff.

summary: see ask

word count: approx 1.1k

a/n: ANON CAN I JUST SAY: thank you so much. this was so much fun to write. i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it, and i hope it was at least similar to what you were requesting!! i was able to get this done pretty quickly <3

songs i listened to whilst writing: lover of mine — 5sos, best years — 5sos, someone to you — banners

taglist (send an ask to be added to my general taglist!): @mwitsmejk

THE BUZZ OF your phone jolted you out of the slumped position you were in over your desk, and you let out a groan. Today had been exhausting to say the least — after a bad night and a long, long day at work, you wanted nothing more than to be at home, in bed.

“Hello?”

You felt your lips quirk up at the sound of your boyfriend on the other end of the line. “Hi, baby,” you greeted him tiredly, glancing at the clock.

“When are you coming home?” Yoongi asked, straight to the point as always.

”I’m —“ You cut yourself off to yawn. “Sorry. I’m about to leave work now, I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. Good.” He said simply and then ended the call. You suppressed a smile at his plain words, before dragging yourself out of your office, calling a goodbye to some of the co-workers you passed along the way.

By the time you got home, you were ready to pass out, but as you pulled into the driveway, you internally groaned. There was laundry to be done, and the living room was a tip, and you hadn’t washed the dishes after last night’s dinner or this morning’s breakfast. “Fu-u-uck,” you groaned in annoyance, and dropped your head on the steering wheel for a few seconds. After a few moments, though, you gathered your strength and exited your car, and jiggled your keys into the door.

The first thing you noticed was the smell. Coffee. You breathed in it deeply; coffee was one of the most heavenly smells on the planet, in your opinion.

“I’m home!” you called out as you kicked off your shoes, not exactly sure where in the house your boyfriend was. He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, his lips twitched into a familiar gummy smile.

The first thing you did was fling your arms around him and drop your head on his chest. You let out a long, contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, squeezing once.

“Long day?” he asked gently, combing a hand through your hair.

“The longest,” you said tiredly. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he mumbled, then kissed your head. Then, suddenly, he swung you up into his arms and you let out a surprised yelp, clutching your arms around his neck.

“Yoongi!”

He let out an amused laugh at your shriek, and carried you into the kitchen, setting you on the counter, and standing between your legs. Even with you sitting down well above him, he was still almost as tall as you. He moved closer and rested his forehead against yours.

“Hi,” you whispered, a giggle in your tone as your noses brushed.

“Hi, jagi,” he mumbled back, before pressing his lips against yours. You let out a soft exhalation into the kiss, relaxing for the first time all day, winding your arms around Yoongi’s neck. He kissed you gently, sliding his hands into your hair and twirling strands around his fingers.

When you break apart, he moved backwards, towards the kitchen table and he picked up two mugs that you hadn’t noticed before, being too wrapped up in him. He handed one mug to you, taking a sip of his own.

“Oh my God, I love you,” you groan dramatically, pressing a kiss to his cheek, after taking the first sip of the coffee he’d made you. It was perfect, as always — he was one of the few people who always got it exactly right.

He snorted at your melodramatic antics. “Is that all I am to you? A coffee-maker?”

“Yes,” you said unapologetically. “But not just any coffee-maker. The best coffee-maker.” You nodded fervently, and Yoongi laughed again, shaking his head at you.

“Coffee makes everything better,” you said after a moment, relishing in the warm drink. “And you,” you add, dropping a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek again. “You make everything so much better.”

He scrunched his face up, trying to look disgusted, but it didn’t work. His ears and the apples of his cheeks were turning red, and you giggled at the sight, but chose to keep quiet instead of teasing him.

“Baby, did something go wrong today, with work?” he asked after a moment, voice soft. “You sound so exhausted.”

You shrugged. “Just a long day.”

He made a noise of understanding as you finished off your coffee. When you made to swing yourself off the counter, though, he hooked his arms underneath so that he was carrying bridal style, and you let out another surprised squeal. “Put me down!”

“What?” he protested innocently. “You said you were tired. So you need to rest.”

“I have to do stuff first,” you whined, wriggling and slapping at his arms gently. Of course, you were no match for him — your movements had absolutely zero effect.

“There’s nothing to do, sweetheart,” he said confidently, as he carried you towards the doorway.

You paused in your squirming. “Huh? I need to do the washing and the living — ”

“No, you don’t,” he said simply. “I’ve done it all.”

“What?”

“I did it all,” he repeated, unfazed. “Did the dishes, the laundry, tidied the living room, vacuumed upstairs — it’s all done.”

You gape wordlessly for a few seconds. “You — huh?”

Yoongi set you down on the sofa in the living room, sprawling next to you. His face was completely unbothered, barely even glancing at your shocked expression as he groped for the TV remote.

“Oh my God,” you said after a few moments. You glanced around the living room and remembered how tidy the kitchen had been — everything was spotless. “Min Yoongi, you are the most perfect man in the entire world.”

He flushed slightly at that and tried to shrug it off. “I know.”

You curled up into the chest of the man next to you, tears pricking at your eyes. “Seriously. What did I do to deserve you?”

“It was nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t cry, darling. It’s okay.” He lifted you into his lap so that your were straddling him, and you buried your face in his chest. He smelt like a mixture of coffee and vanilla, soft and warm. He tightened his arms around you, and pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head.

“I literally love you,” you said into his chest.

“All I did was clean up!” he snorted. “If my baby’s tired, of course I’m going to help out.” He paused, and kissed your forehead. “I love you too. You want to go sleep upstairs?”

You shook your head, nuzzling into his neck. “Want to stay here with you. Cuddles.”

He huffed a laugh. “Okay. Cuddles.”

And that was how the rest of the evening was spent, cuddles and coffee and the warm feeling in your chest that only Min Yoongi could produce.

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agustdyoons

1 year ago

bringing it back to old school.

summary; a series/collections of fiction of various drivers based on old school reggaeton hits.

f1 main masterlist !

yo voy | lewis hamilton

lewis was used to having women throw themselves at him and try to seduce him for a night in bed. however, only one is able to have him completely wrapped around his finger.

ven bailalo | george russell

despite not being the best dancer, george will always join y/n on the dance floor, bad moves or not.

mayor que yo | max verstappen

max doesn’t care that checo’s sister is older than him. he just wants her no matter the age difference.

que tengo que hacer | charles leclerc

charles is desperate to have y/n back in his life and he just wants to know what he has to do to bring her back.

quiero saber | carlos sainz

y/n is tired of hiding her relationship with carlos and tired of all the prying eyes of other women in clubs who are desperate to dance with him. her only solution? take him out to the dance floor.

pobre diabla | lando norris

y/n is spotted out in the streets of monaco drunk and a crying mess. unbeknownst to everyone, she was crying over her relationship with lando.

dile | oscar piastri

oscar wants to make sure that y/n’s boyfriend knows how and when he met her. but he wants her to tell him.

llamado de emergencia | logan sargeant

the pressure of formula one is catching up to logan. after his dnf in miami, there was only one person he could call for help

pasarela | alex albon ft. lily

the fashionable influencer at the miami grand prix catches the attention of f1’s favorite couple

perdóname | daniel ricciardo

daniel made one of the biggest mistakes of his life and all he wants is for y/n to forgive him

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

note; reader is implied to be latina in a lot of these btw!!! how could i not w a reggaeton series??🙈 ofc i had to add lily to alex’s fic, i missed my fave throuple 😞 but i’m really excited for this <33 first ones should be out hopefully this week!!

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agustdyoons

3 years ago

ALWAYS, I’LL CARE | myg

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: social media au [smau], idol!au, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, humor, idiots in love

warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, explicit language, very slight angst

summary: y/n l/n used to help produce music for min yoongi years and years ago. together, they were recruited by bighit entertainment under the impression of being producers for the company. however, yoongi goes on to debut with six other members in idol group bts. but y/n does end up continuing to produce in the limelight for other artists.

status: ongoing !!

a/n: hi, this is my first bts fic and first smau, so i hope you enjoy! don’t be afraid to give me feedback in the asks. lastly, this story does not follow actual timeline or events, & please ignore the time stamps on the pictures. thank you for reading !

main masterlist

ALWAYS, I’LL CARE

prologue

profiles — then

00 — the gloss and mae show

00 — someone named kim namjoon

chapters

profiles — now pt 1

profiles — now pt 2

01 — dude that’s fucked up

02 — (she) be(lie)ve(d)

921 notes View Post

agustdyoons

3 years ago

The Pianist

(A/N: Thanks to @xjoonchildx and the anon who recommended me to her for this prompt! The pieces mentioned in this fic are what I listened to while writing it, they're beautiful and I recommend them. Feedback is appreciated!)

masterlist.

You didn’t sleep very well most nights.

You didn’t really understand how people just laid down and fell asleep instantly, it just didn’t happen for you. You had tried everything but ASMR creeped you out, Melatonin didn’t work, chamomile tea just made you have to get up to pee a million times. Nothing worked for years- until the apartment above yours got a new tenant.

You weren’t sure when exactly they moved in but you were certain of the day they got a piano.

January 12, 2021: The day you were given the gift of sleep.

At this point, it was apart of your routine. Every night, after showering and brushing your teeth, you’d lay down and listen to soft melodies you couldn’t quite place pouring through your walls.

Now, you found yourself rushing back home in the evening just in case they decided to start playing early.

“Hold the elevator, please!” You called, rushing over to the closing doors.

A hand stuck out to block them from shutting at the last minute and you gave a sigh of relief- you’d be on time now. You rushed into the elevator with a pleased smile on your face, your eyes falling on a man who you could only describe as the most interesting person you had ever seen. Dressed in all black with thick rings around the hand that had stopped the elevator, he should’ve been intimidating. If it wasn’t for the soft slope of his nose and pink doll-like lips, you would’ve turned the other way in fear.

“Oh-“ You said awkwardly, staring at him with wide eyes for some reason. He looked at you awkwardly and smile slightly, pulling his lips into a thine line. His dark eyes blinked slowly, molten mocha peering down at you with mild interest. “Thank you- for the elevator.”

“No problem, you seem like you’re in a hurry.” He said politely, his quiet, deep voice rumbling in your ear comfortably. You found yourself leaning towards him and snapped yourself out of it, pressing your floor’s button quickly.

As beautiful as he was, you got distracted from the man quickly, refocusing on trying to guess what the pianist would choose to play tonight. You left the window cracked just to hear more of the classical sonatas, timing your breathing just right to the pacing of the tunes. As time passed, you grew accustomed to the presence of the music, reading the pianist’s mood by their choice of song.

Reverie, for calm evenings in the summer when your apartment was bathed in golden light, warming your skin. A jazzy rendition of Manhattan when you assumed the pianist had an absolutely wonderful day, sending you off to dream of fluffy clouds and creamy skies. Nocturne No. 1, when they were troubled and you physically had to stop yourself from crying upon hearing the emptiness in the notes that flooded into your ears.

As luck would have it, you stumbled across the man in the elevator again too, crossing paths in the mail room, where he held the door open as you lugged out copious amounts of packages from online shopping. You would’ve tried to strike up a conversation, only it was already dusk and the pianist would start practicing soon.

“You’re always rushing, aren’t you?” He quipped, an endearing smile on his face. You admired the way his cheeks fluffed up a little when he smiled.

“I have plans with a friend,” You excused, naming the pianist as a fond companion. You didn’t want to reveal what you were really rushing for. The pianist felt like your own little secret, a world you could immerse yourself in when real life got too overwhelming.

If only you had known you’d soon lose the one consistent relief of tension in your life. You assumed things in his life had gone south, because after a week of music that tore your soul apart- the music stopped. Gone were your nights of angelic tunes, gone were your nights of sleep.

You waited for him, laid in bed with an antsy heart waiting to hear something, an aggravated smash of keys, a simple chord, even a single note would set you at ease. It had been a week since you had a good night of sleep, your companion suddenly stripped away.

You trudged into the elevator one morning sleepily, barely registering a familiar man standing beside you. Your hands met as both of you rushed to press the ‘close door’ button, the button shocking both of you at once. You jumped in surprise, flickering your eyes towards him sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” He mumbled. It wasn’t until then that you took in his appearance, slightly disheveled with his hair fluffy and messy. It was bleached now, faded with the roots grown out too far.

The pair of you rode the elevator down in a comfortable silence, filtering out together without a passing glance. You walked in different directions, both consumed in your own thoughts. You figured the pianist would be back by now. When nothing came, you decided to do take action, composing your own masterpiece. You tacked the letter you painstakingly rewrote a million times, setting for a simple note of flattery that you hoped would entice whoever it was playing the piano to return the gift you had cherished back to you. You expected nothing, maybe music returning back. Instead, you were greeted two days later with a simple knock at your door.

You answered quickly, shuffling your feet towards the entrance of your apartment. You opened the door to a familiar face, the man from the elevator. This time, his hair was freshly dyed, denim blue with one side sleeked back. His eyes were bright, alert as he looked at you with a surprised expression. You skimmed the length of his body, noting the tailored pants and soft looking sweater, stopping suddenly on a familiar piece of paper between long fingers adorned with rings.

Your note.

“You’re the pianist,” You realized, staring at the note. The paper of the note was faded, fraying at the ends and softened at the creases. It had clearly been folded and unfolded a million times, pulling at your heart.

“You fall asleep to me playing?” He asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I have trouble sleeping- you, your music helps.” You said lamely. “I’ve missed it….I thought, I mean, I noticed that you were playing more sad pieces than normal and then you stopped playing altogether. I figured something was wrong- Are you okay?”

He tapped his foot on the ground and shifted his weight, looking down at the ground awkwardly, “I was going to stop playing. I just…I didn’t see the value anymore.”

You felt panic sweep over your body and widened your eyes, leaning towards him instinctively, “Your music feels like a friend. It’s so beautiful and calming, it’s the only thing I have to look forward to some days. It- It has value. A lot of value, to me.”

He looked up at you and smiled, eyes crinkling slightly, “That makes me feel better- I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

You smiled back at him, tilting your head slightly.

The music came back after that, new songs playing every evening. You spent the mornings tracking down all of the songs he played the night before, listening to them while you went about your day, melting away time until you could listen to Yoongi practice again. You saw Yoongi a couple times in the elevator, exchanging shy smiles and excited suggestions of what you think he should learn next.

It wasn’t until you awoke one morning to the soft musings of a piano that you realized- you loved Min Yoongi. You recognized the song playing instantly- Dawn from Pride and Prejudice. You had suggested it awhile ago and how romantic you thought the piece was. It had been a slip of the tongue you thought he had forgot about it by now, since he hadn't played it. You remembered the small smile he gave you, nodding slightly when you blushed furiously at even the mention of romance. But now, listening to the music you knew he played for you, you were glad you had said it. It was fitting for the hour, the sunrise pouring cool colored light through your windows, a soft breeze filling your room because you had never gotten out of the habit of cracking your window to hear Yoongi play.

You smiled, laying in bed for a moment and soaking in the light keys. Eventually, you got up and walked to make yourself a cup of tea, stopping when you saw a piece of paper that had been slipped through the bottom of your door.

You picked it up quickly, opening it at once.

Would you like to have dinner with me? - Your Pianist.

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agustdyoons

3 years ago

NOW WE’RE EVEN

“good luck trying to get rid of me”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: crack; enemies to lovers; fake dating au; sm au.

warnings: explicit jokes; some angsty realizations about feelings ; mentions of stalking

summary: in which in a serious of unfortunate events a piece of paper promising jungkook she'd do anything to return a favour comes back to haunt y/n. who would've thought jungkook would actually ask her to return the favour and expect her to be his fake girlfriend. oh well, accidents happen and jungkook never forgets promises.

— masterlist

part 1. explicit brain

part 2. pure poison

part 3. real girlfriend

part 4. explaining to do

part 5. shower thoughts

part 6. min devil

part 7. bully on main

part 8. dinner?? together??

part 9. locked INSIDE

part 10. enemies since birth

part 11. shaking in fear

part 12. elevator talks

part 13. forbidden room

part 14. it’s ART

part 15. only threats

part 16. accidents happen

part 17. ugly scream

part 18. say goodnight

part 19. ugly words

part 20. strange feeling

part 21. jealousy is a disease

part 22. baby??

part 23. accidently confessed

part 24. ITS A JOKE

part 25. poisonous cake

part 26. heartfelt behaviour

part 27. accidently matching

part 28. lonely thoughts

part 29. intentional confession

part 30. now we're even

end.

by popular demand I rewrote this au and here it is 😽 I hope u enjoy it

— if you want to be tagged comment on this post.

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agustdyoons

3 years ago

seokjin x ‘deco kit’ photoshoot sketch

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agustdyoons

3 years ago

eyes meet. | myg

word count: 0.4k

genre: fluff. nothing else, just classmate-crushes <33

authors note: i wrote this in 10 minutes,,,just randomly came into my head and i had to write it down :D enjoy!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

back to high school. you vividly remember that one physical education session.

you were (annoyingly) on your period that day, after the warm-up, you could feel your entire body hurt. so you requested the teacher if you can rest back in class.

you walk back to the classroom. it was a sunny day, the sunlight streams into the window and onto a side of the classroom. then you see the boy.

Yoongi was always quiet and introverted, he sleeps through the morning lessons, and he continues to sleep through the afternoon lessons. he rarely moves around if he doesn’t have to.

you two normally have some small talk, and you two pair up if some work needs to be done in pairs. you help him with work sometimes too.

“not going to p.e?” you ask lightly, he shakes his head and leans on his folded arms. you nod in understanding.

you walk to the seat next to him, sit down quietly, feel a rush of sleepiness hit you, you close your eyes to sleep.

but the cramps continue, making it extremely uncomfortable for you to fall asleep, you try your best to not shuffle around, but the cramps are keeping you awake from sleeping.

…time passes, you feel a wave of hot air hit your neck and left ear. you freeze and feel yourself stop breathing. it’s a soft whisper under his breath.

“….i like you.” his voice was slow and quiet, yet still audible. the vibration of his vocal cords was playing with your mind. the ‘i like you’ repeated itself many times in your head as if someone toggled it to be on a loop.

you tried your best to stay calm, convincing your mind it was just a misheard. nothing happened.

the boy next to you shuffles, probably also in the same position as you, lying on the table. the silent classroom made it so much easier to hear each other breathing. his light breathing sound was in sync with yours too.

minutes pass. moments pass. you thought he went back to sleep, lifting your head from leaning on your numb arm, you slowly turn your head to your left. your breathing pattern immediately rising up.

eyes meet.

you lock eyes with another pair of eyes. Yoongi was also looking at you. a glimpse of hesitation and surprise appeared in his expression. you stop dead.

the next seconds felt like hours, the sun shifted, warm yellow rays shining onto his face.

you heard the sound of an afternoon breeze,

and the sound of his racing heartbeat.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

this is the first piece of my micro-fic project !! there will be so many micro-fics because sometimes writing lengthy fics are really hard for me!!

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