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banzonism · 1 month ago

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WE FOUND LOVE (In a Hopeless Place)

one-shot

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance, fluff, drama, comedy

tags: ceo jk! rich jk! fashion model reader! cute jk! jjk x jjk crossover! slight enemies to lover! friends to lovers!

synopsis: In a string of chance encounters, two people from wildly different worlds, find themselves inexplicably drawn to one another. Maybe the universe has been orchestrating something all along. In a swirl of laughter, longing, and love, they begin to wonder if they have finally found what they didn’t even know they were searching for. The beauty of emerging from brokenness, love blossoming in the least expected circumstances, proving that sometimes, even in the most hopeless places, love has a way of finding you.

words count: 8.6k

notes: this is my first one shot jjk ff ahhh i've been thinking about this plot for a while bc of that one jungkook pic above hehe anyway enjoy reading <3

Las Vegas.

Being a fashion model is a balancing act. It’s not just about walking runways or posing for editorial spreads. It’s late nights rehearsing a flawless walk, early mornings enduring hours of hair and makeup, and constant flights between fashion capitals. You are not a household name like some models, you have made your mark. Campaigns for high-end brands, covers on major fashion magazines, and being a regular on exclusive runways have earned you recognition. Your career is steady—not overwhelming but enough to keep you in rooms where champagne flows freely and the conversation sparkles.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You had been invited by Jung Hoseok, a longtime friend and one of the most talented designers you know, to celebrate his latest collection's success. The show had been a triumph, and you were one of the faces of his collection, walking the Vegas runway in his stunning designs. His exclusive afterparty was being held at a swanky bar one of those places where entry was practically currency itself.

You smoothed the fabric of your dress, a slinky black piece by Versace, clinging to you in all the right places. Its thigh-high slit revealed just enough leg to make heads turn without screaming trying too hard. Your hair fell effortlessly in soft waves, and your Louboutin heels clicked against the pavement as you arrived.

The air was electric when you walked in. Crystal chandeliers hung like jewels from the ceiling, the bar gleamed under dim lights, and the room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. Hoseok, in his signature vibrant suit, caught sight of you and immediately waved you over.

“Y/N!” he beamed, pulling you into a hug. “You look stunning as always.”

“Thank you! And congratulations, Hobi. The show was incredible,” you said genuinely. “Every single piece was a masterpiece. You have outdone yourself.”

His grin widened. “You’re too kind, but coming from you, it means the world.”

You settled into easy conversation, sipping on champagne as the night unfolded. Hoseok glowed with pride—not just from the success of his show, but also from something more personal. You raised an eyebrow when he let slip he had been in a healthy relationship.

“Six months, huh?” you teased. “That’s practically married in fashion industry terms!”

He laughed, his grin wide. “I know, right? But she’s amazing. Keeps me grounded, calls me out when I’m being too extra—which is all the time, obviously.”

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “That’s got to be the longest relationship you have ever had, right? Should we celebrate that too?”

Hoseok gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you had just wounded him. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I have had plenty of long relationships!”

“Oh, really? Name one.” you raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying his flustered expression.

“Well…” He paused, clearly scrambling. “There was… uh…”

“That’s what I thought.” you laughed, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Hobi. We’re all proud of you for finally breaking your three-month streak.”

“You’re impossible,” he grumbled, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Maybe I should start giving you relationship advice now, since I’m apparently the expert.”

“Oh, please,” you snorted. “You’re one more text away from being whipped, and we both know it.”

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, holding his hands up. “When are you going to get yourself a man? I’m going to find you someone tonight.”

“Good luck with that,” you muttered, taking another sip of champagne.

“No, I’m serious!” Hoseok leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re gorgeous, successful, and you have taste. What’s the holdup?”

“It’s not that simple,” you replied, sipping your champagne.

“Then let’s make it simple. Tonight’s mission: find Y/N a man,” he declared, clapping his hands together.

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing.

“Too late. It’s happening.”

He scanned the crowd dramatically, his finger wagging like a radar. “Alright, what about him?”

You followed his gaze to a tall guy nursing a whiskey at the bar. “Probably taken.”

Hoseok squinted. “How can you possibly tell?”

“Look at his hand,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes zeroed in, and then he groaned. “Oh a ring? Seriously? Why do the good ones always come pre-owned?”

Shaking your head. “Because they’ve been snatched up by people who don’t need their friend matchmaking at parties.”

“Rude,” Hoseok shot back, feigning offense. “I’m doing God’s work here.”

“That guy in the navy suit?”

“Too old.”

“Alright, what about tall and brooding over there?”

“Not my type.”

Hoseok sighed theatrically. “You’re impossible.”

Before you could retort, a shift in the room’s energy caught your attention. The chatter quieted for a moment, heads turned, and the air thickened with a sense of presence. That’s when you saw him.

He stood at the entrance, effortlessly commanding attention in a tailored black suit that hugged his frame perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, a single strand rebelliously falling onto his forehead. His sharp jawline and piercing gaze were enough to make anyone look twice or three times.

“Wow,” Hoseok whispered beside you, fanning himself. “Now that’s a head-turner.”

You couldn’t disagree. The man was magnetic in a way few people were.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” Hoseok teased, nudging you.

“I am not!” you protested, though your cheeks betrayed you.

“You are. And you know what this means,” he said, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“You’re going to talk to him.”

You laughed nervously. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N, come on! Look at him. This is fate handing you a golden opportunity,” Hoseok insisted.

“I don’t even know him!”

“That’s the point. Go introduce yourself. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You hesitated, and Hoseok seized his chance. “I bet you can’t do it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re betting on this now?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t talk to him, I’m telling everyone here that you chickened out.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, darling. Now, go,” he said, practically pushing you out of your seat.

You took a deep breath, heart pounding as you glanced at the man again. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, before landing briefly on you. Both of your eyes met, and you feel a spark of something unspoken passed between the both of you.

Fine. You could do this. For the sake of your pride—and to shut Hoseok up, you adjusted your dress, squared your shoulders, and took a step forward.

You took a deep breath as you made your way to him. He was seated near the bar, his profile sharp under the dim lighting, exuding an aura that screamed untouchable. His drink sat touched on the counter, his focus distant, like he was counting down the seconds until he could leave.

Alright, Y/N, you got this. Just be charming. Flirty. Casual. How hard can it be?

Clearing your throat softly, you slid onto the barstool beside him. “You know,” you started with a smirk, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

He slowly turned his head to look at you, his brow arching in what could only be described as mild annoyance. “Excuse me?”

You faltered but quickly recovered. “I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business.”

You mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” His tone was flat, but the words stung.

“That’s not—” you sputtered, now feeling defensive. “Okay, you know what? Never mind. Clearly, I misread the vibe. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

You turned on your heel, heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and fury as you stormed back to Hoseok.

“You’re back already?” he asked, smirking as he handed you a fresh glass of champagne. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said sarcastically, collapsing onto the couch beside him. “Just got verbally smacked by the guy you insisted I talk to.”

Hoseok burst out laughing. “What did he say?”

“That I don’t know how to mind my own business!”

Hoseok clutched his stomach, tears forming in his eyes. “Oh, my God, Y/N, what did you say to him?”

“Nothing bad! I was just trying to be friendly. He’s the one with the stick up his—”

Before you could finish, you noticed the man leaving the bar. He walked toward the exit with the same quiet, commanding air he had when he entered. No goodbyes, no lingering. Just a clean getaway.

“Whatever,” you muttered. “He’s clearly not a fan of parties—or people.”

“Fair,” Hoseok said, still chuckling as two familiar faces joined you. Jihyo and Sana, fellow models and the unofficial queens of industry gossip, flopped onto the couch with the kind of grace only models could manage.

“What’s so funny?” Sana asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as if she were still mid-photo shoot.

“Y/N just got spectacularly shut down by the Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok declared, barely containing his laughter.

You turned to him sharply. “Wait, you know him?”

Jihyo’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between Hoseok and you. “Hold on, that Jungkook? CEO of Resorts International?”

“Oh, that’s his name,” you muttered, sinking further into your seat. “Explains a lot. The guy’s got all the charm of a brick wall.”

“More like a brick wall covered in barbed wire,” Sana quipped, her brows raising dramatically. “I’ve heard he’s impossible to approach—unless you’re an accountant or a cocktail waitress.”

Sana chimed in, leaning forward like she was about to spill state secrets. “You’ve heard the rumors, right? Cold-hearted, doesn’t talk to anyone unless he has to, and supposedly—” she lowered her voice dramatically, “—he’s got a different girl in his bed every week.”

Jihyo nodded sagely. “I’ve heard the same. He’s all business, no warmth. Probably because he grew up as an only child with more money than he knew what to do with.”

Hoseok snorted. “To be fair, you did call him a loner to his face.”

“I didn’t call him a loner! I implied it,” you defended. “Big difference.”

The three of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in despite your bruised ego.

“Well,” you sighed dramatically, raising your glass, “here’s to tonight. Not exactly my lucky night in the romance department.”

“Hey, it’s Vegas,” Hoseok said, clinking his glass against to yours. “Plenty of fish in the sea. Just… maybe avoid the sharks next time.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you took a sip. If nothing else, at least you had good company to cushion your failed attempts at flirting.

Jeon Jungkook had lived his entire life under a spotlight, but it wasn’t the kind that most people would envy. As the only son of the founder of Resorts International, one of the world’s leading gaming and hospitality empires, he was groomed for success before he could even spell the word. He had grown up surrounded by glitzy hotel openings, exclusive business meetings, and lavish galas where every handshake could seal a deal worth millions.

When his father announced his retirement three months ago, handing over the CEO reins to Jungkook, the world collectively held its breath. The media speculated endlessly: Would the golden boy live up to his father’s legacy? Was he ready for the challenge?

Jungkook had proven them all wrong. In just three months, he already started modernizing the company’s operations, implementing eco-friendly initiatives, and streamlining inefficiencies. But despite his achievements, his reputation among those outside the boardroom was less favorable.

“Cold-hearted.”

“Unapproachable.”

“Stone-faced heir.”

The whispers followed him everywhere, branding him as someone impossible to know, let alone love. In reality, Jungkook wasn’t cold—just guarded. Growing up without siblings or close confidants had shaped him into someone who found comfort in solitude. His reserved nature wasn’t a symptom of arrogance, but rather a quiet reflection of how overwhelming his life had become.

Beneath the sharp suits and calculated demeanor was a man who loved simple pleasures: sketching in his notebook, playing the piano, or indulging in late-night gaming sessions. But no one saw that side of him not his colleagues, not the socialites clamoring for his attention, and certainly not the father who believed his son’s life wasn’t complete without a wife.

Jungkook’s friend Kim Taehyung, the eccentric owner of one of the hottest luxury fashion brands, had practically dragged him to this afterparty. Taehyung had a knack for throwing events that were equal parts exclusive and chaotic, and tonight was no exception.

“You need to loosen up,” Taehyung had said earlier, handing Jungkook a glass of champagne. “You’ve been running that empire of yours like a man possessed. It’s a party, not a shareholders’ meeting.”

“I’m not really in the mood, Tae,” Jungkook replied, scanning the room full of strangers.

“Of course, you’re not,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. “But you’re staying. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting tonight.”

Jungkook sighed. Taehyung was relentless.

The truth was, he wasn’t just tired from work. His father had been on his case again earlier that day, pressing him to start dating.

“You’re the face of this company now, Jungkook. People look up to you. It’s time you settled down.”

“Dad, I’ve been CEO for three months. I’m focusing on stabilizing the company,” Jungkook had argued.

“Excuses. You’re hiding behind work because you’re afraid of commitment,” his father shot back.

The argument had left a sour taste in Jungkook’s mouth. Relationships weren’t on his radar right now. He wasn’t against the idea entirely, but the thought of being with someone when he could barely keep his own life in order felt irresponsible.

Jungkook slipped away from the main floor and into the restroom, taking a moment to breathe. The thrum of the party dulled behind the heavy door, and for a few minutes, he could pretend he wasn’t Jungkook Jeon, CEO of Resorts International.

He leaned against the counter, staring at his reflection. You don’t have to stay long. Just make an appearance, then leave. It’s fine.

When he returned to the party, Taehyung intercepted him immediately.

“Where were you hiding?” Taehyung teased, clinking his glass against Jungkook’s.

“Just needed a break,” Jungkook replied. “I was actually about to head out.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Taehyung’s grin widened mischievously. “You can’t leave without at least trying to have some fun. Find someone to talk to. Flirt, even. You’re single, man. Enjoy it!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Guilty as charged. Now, promise me you’ll stay for at least thirty more minutes.”

“Fine. Thirty minutes,” Jungkook muttered, already regretting it.

He found himself at the bar, sipping whiskey and counting down the seconds until he could make his escape. That’s when you appeared.

“You know,” you said, sliding onto the stool beside him, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

Your tone was playful, your smile confident, but Jungkook could only muster a blank stare. Who starts a conversation like that?

“Excuse me?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type,” you continued.

The comment rubbed him the wrong way—not because it was offensive, but because it hit too close to home.

“And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business,” he replied flatly.

Your expression faltered, but only for a moment. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” he shot back.

You stood abruptly, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You know what? Never mind. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

As you walked away, Jungkook felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to come off so harsh. He was just… out of his depth.

Deciding he’d had enough, Jungkook downed the rest of his whiskey and left the bar. As he walked through the crowd, he couldn’t help but glance back at you. You were sitting with a group of friends, laughing animatedly despite their earlier exchange.

For a brief moment, Jungkook wondered if he’d made a mistake. But then, the weight of his father’s words pressed down on him again. And yet, as he walked away, your voice lingered in his mind.

The warm, familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee hit you as you stepped into your favorite café, the one you always visit whenever you're in Vegas. Normally, this place feels like a sanctuary a calm start to your day with a comforting latte in hand. But not today. Today, the universe seemed to have woken up and decided to toy with you.

First, you received some ridiculous news about your upcoming campaign shoot being delayed, throwing your entire schedule into chaos. Then, in you rush to storm out of the hotel, you had forgotten your purse. Great.

Still, you weren't about to let that stop you from grabbing your usual coffee. A caffeine fix was non-negotiable.

“Medium latte, please,” you said to the barista, already picturing the soothing warmth of the cup in your hands.

“That will be $5.50, ma'am,” he replied.

You instinctively reached into your pocket, only to come up empty. Your stomach dropped. “Uh…” you glanced up sheepishly. “Okay, so funny thing—I left my wallet at my hotel. But I am a regular here. Can I just—”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the barista interrupted, his tone clipped. “We can’t process an order without payment. Policy.”

You blinked, thrown by his sharpness. “I’m not asking for free coffee. I’ll come back and pay, I swear. You can even ask the manager—I’m here all the time.”

“I really can’t do that,” he said, looking uncomfortable but firm. “We’ve had issues before with people trying to…”

You froze. “Are you accusing me of being a scammer?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant,” he stammered, his face flushing. “It’s just…we have to be careful—”

“Careful about what?” your voice rose as irritation crept in. “About someone who forgot their wallet? I’m not exactly trying to rob you!”

The barista looked ready to melt into the floor when a low, calm voice broke through.

“I’ll pay for it.”

You turned to the source of the voice, and your breath caught.

Standing a few feet away was none other than him—Jungkook. The same man who had practically shut you down a week ago at Hoseok’s party. He looked just as composed and intimidating as before, dressed in a sleek black coat over a crisp white turtleneck, his hair perfectly tousled like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot.

He slid a bill onto the counter without a second glance in your direction. “For her latte,” he said to the barista, who nodded nervously and rushed to complete the order.

You stood there, dumbfounded.

“Wait—what are you doing?” you finally managed to ask as Jungkook turned and headed for the door.

“Paying for your coffee,” he said over his shoulder, his voice casual, like it was no big deal.

“Why?” you demanded, hurrying after him.

He paused at the entrance, looking at you with an expression that was equal parts bored and amused. “Because you looked like you needed it.”

You blinked, caught between annoyance and gratitude. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” he replied simply.

You crossed your arms, planting myself in his path. “Okay, but why? What’s the catch? Last time we talked, you made it pretty clear you don’t exactly like strangers.”

He raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you. Instead, he said, “And last time we talked, you called me a loner. So maybe I’m just returning the favor.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Wow, you really have a way with people, don’t you?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Look, if it bothers you that much, don’t think of it as charity. Think of it as me doing something nice.”

“Nicer than calling me pitiful,” you muttered under your breath, but he caught it.

His ears turned pink. “You looked like you were having a bad day,” he mumbled, suddenly avoiding your gaze.

For a moment, you just stared at him. There was something unexpectedly, endearing about how awkward he seemed. Like he wasn’t used to small talk or acts of kindness but was trying anyway.

“Well, I don’t like owing people,” you said finally. “So the next time we meet, I’ll treat you. Deal?”

Jungkook looked at you, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, to your surprise, the corners of his mouth lifted into a barely-there smile.

“Sure. If we would meet again.”

He slipped out the door before you could respond, leaving you standing there with your coffee and a strange flutter in your chest.

As you took a sip of your latte, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he wasn’t the cold, untouchable man everyone made him out to be. Maybe… he was just a little awkward. And kind of sweet.

A rare break from your job was the perfect excuse to finally try something new and for some reason, the idea of working out seemed appealing. Maybe it was the influencers you had been scrolling past on Instagram with their perfectly toned abs, or maybe you just needed a distraction. Either way, you grabbed your phone and searched for gyms nearby.

After a few minutes of scrolling, you found a fancy spot that looked promising. The problem? You didn’t have a car. Public transportation in Vegas wasn’t exactly convenient, and walking there in this heat wasn’t an option either.

Then it hit you—You had the solution. You immediately dialed your rich friend, Park Jimin.

Jimin picked up on the second ring, his voice as cheerful as ever. “Y/N! What’s up?”

“Hey, Jimin,” you said, getting straight to the point. “Can I borrow one of your cars? I found this gym I want to check out, but, you know…”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat. “Which one? The Lamborghini, the Porsche, or—”

“Something normal, please,” you cut in, laughing. “I just need to get there, not cause a scene.”

“Normal? What does that even mean?” Jimin teased. “Alright, I’ll send one over. Consider it done.”

You chatted for a bit longer, mostly about his upcoming projects and his love for the Vegas nightlife, until the conversation took a surprising turn.

“By the way,” Jimin said casually, like he was talking about ordering coffee, “I’m throwing a yacht party this weekend for my birthday. You have to come.”

You blinked. “A yacht party? Like... on an actual yacht?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he said, laughing. “A boat, water, champagne, music—the whole deal. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of skipping it.”

“I mean... no,” you admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed. “It’s just... I don’t think that’s really my scene. You know I’m not exactly—”

“Not exactly what?” he pressed, his tone growing curious.

You hesitated, then sighed. “Well... out of your league?”

“Out of your league?” Jimin repeated, his voice turning sharp, almost offended. “Don’t be ridiculous. I invited you because you’re one of my closest friends. You and Hoseok.”

Jung Hoseok the reason you had met Jimin in the first place. Back when you started in the fashion industry, Hoseok had introduced you to his best friend, and Jimin had been an instant ally: warm, funny, and, despite his wealth, incredibly down-to-earth.

“You’re sure I won’t be awkwardly out of place?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Jimin snorted. “Awkward? You? This is coming from someone who had zero shame asking to borrow one of my cars five minutes ago.”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, you got me there.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone softening now. “Listen, I only invited people I trust people I actually like. You’ll have Hoseok there too. It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

And just like that, you could feel the tension melting away. “Alright,” you said, smiling. “Count me in. But if I trip and fall into the ocean, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Jimin’s laughter rang out like a promise. “Deal. But I’m making you wear a life jacket just in case. The car should be pulling up any minute.”

As if on cue, you heard the unmistakable sound of a sleek engine pulling into the driveway. You peeked out the window and shook your head, smiling. Jimin’s idea of “normal” turned out to be a shiny black Tesla.

“Your chariot awaits,” Jimin said playfully before hanging up.

Grabbing my bag, you headed out the door and slid into the luxurious interior. You had to admit, the excitement was starting to build not just for the workout but for the yacht party. Maybe this was exactly the kind of escape you needed. After all, life had a way of surprising you when you least expected it.

The gym was buzzing with energy as you powered through your workout routine. The rhythmic thud of weights dropping and faint music filled the air, and you were in the zone completely focused. By the time as you finished and moved to cool down, your muscles felt like jelly, but the satisfying kind.

You reached for your water bottle and lowered the volume of your earbuds, the background hum of the gym suddenly sharper. That’s when you heard it—a loud, frustrated, “Shit, what the hell just happened?”

Intrigued, you glanced over. There was a broad-shouldered, standing by a bench, holding a phone that looked like it had lost a fight with a sledgehammer.

It took you a second to process, but when you did, the recognition hit.

“Oh, it’s you again!” you blurted out, your mouth moving faster than your brain.

He looked up, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. “Yeah, it’s me again,” he said flatly, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke by orchestrating our third meeting.

“What happened?” you asked, biting back a grin as you nodded toward the carnage in his hand. “I heard something break.”

He sighed, holding up the mangled device. “My phone. It fell while I was working out, and I didn’t see it. Then the dumbbell… well, the dumbbell saw it.”

That was all it took for you to lose it. You laughed, clutching your stomach as his expression shifted from annoyed to downright offended.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry!” you managed to say between giggles. “But how do you not notice your phone on the floor? Were you that focused?”

“It was an accident!” he shot back, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t exactly planning to obliterate my phone today.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender, though the grin stayed firmly in place. “What’s your plan now? Or are you stuck in this gym forever?”

He looked at his watch. “I’ll figure it out. I can call my secretary through this,” he said, tapping the screen.

“Wait,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “I’ll help you out.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll drive you,” you offered, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I still owe you one from the café incident, remember?”

For a moment, he looked skeptical. “You? Drive me?”

“Yes, me. I’m perfectly capable of driving, thank you very much,” you shot back, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Unless, of course, you would d rather sit here like a helpless damsel waiting for your secretary to swoop in and save you.”

He let out a reluctant sigh, finally both of you stepping toward the black Tesla.

“Nice ride,” he remarked casually. You snorted. If only he knew.

As you unlocked the doors, your eyes betrayed you for a moment, flickering toward him. He was the epitome of effortless cool—lean but undeniably sculpted, the kind of build that spoke of hours at the gym but never looked overdone. His plain black tank top clung to his shoulders, revealing toned arms and just a teasing glimpse of a tattoo curling around his bicep. The joggers he wore hung low on his hips, paired with sneakers that looked both practical and trendy. His hair was tousled in that perfect I woke up like this way, and the faint glint of a lip piercing added an edge that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

“You know, if you’re going to stare, at least make it subtle,” his voice broke through your thoughts, his lips tugging into an amused smirk.

You blinked, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t—” I started, but his raised eyebrow silenced me.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “So, do I pass your inspection?”

“Inspection?” you scoffed, regaining your composure. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled as he slid into the passenger seat, leaving you muttering under your breath as you got behind the wheel. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly smug and good-looking?

Desperate to change the subject, you asked, “Anyway, do you want breakfast? My treat.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “Breakfast? With you?”

“Relax,” you said with a laugh. “I’m not proposing or anything. It’s just food. You eat, don’t you?”

He hesitated, his expression a mix of skepticism and mild intrigue. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But only because I don’t have a better option.”

By the time you pulled up to the restaurant, he still seemed wary, like he couldn’t quite figure out if you were serious or setting him up for something. But as you both stepped inside, you noticed him sneaking a glance at you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as bad as he would thought it would be.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, with a soft golden glow from the lights and a gentle hum of chatter in the background. You both sat across from each other, separated by what felt like an ocean of awkward silence. You buried your nose in the menu, pretending to deliberate over your choices, but really just trying to distract yourself from his presence, which seemed to take up way more space than it should.

Once the waiter took our orders, the quiet felt unbearable. You swirled the straw in your glass like it was the most fascinating thing in the world and finally broke the silence. “So… are you, like, the CEO of your company or something?”

He raised an eyebrow, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” you said a little too quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. “Just making conversation.”

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that’s almost more of an exhale. “Not very subtle, are you?”

Both of you started eating then he suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowing at your phone case. “Wait a minute… is that Gojo?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, why?”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “You watch that anime?

“Do I not look like someone who would watch anime?”

“Well, you don’t exactly give off weeb vibes.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Excuse me, I’m a proud fan of Gojo Satoru. Who wouldn’t be?”

His face lit up. “No way. Gojo’s my favorite too.”

“Of course, he’s everyone’s favorite,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “But don’t even start about his… you know…”

“Death?” he finished, wincing. “Yeah, that wrecked me. Don’t remind me.”

You spent a solid ten minutes geeking out over our shared love for the character, bouncing theories off each other like you both known each other for years. It was so ridiculous, but for once, the awkward tension melted away.

“See?” you said, grinning. “I’m not that bad.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I never said you were bad. Just… unexpected.”

“Unexpected? Like when I tried to flirt with you that night?” you teased him. “And you took it the wrong way?”

His eyes widened, caught off guard. For a moment, it felt like the air between shifted, but before you could process it, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, about that night…” His tone softened, and his gaze dropped to the table. “I wanted to apologize. I wasn’t exactly… polite.”

You blinked. “Wait, you’re apologizing? Like, a real apology?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, I was having a bad day.”

Curiosity got the better of you. “What kind of bad day makes you snap at random strangers?”

He hesitated, fidgeting with his fork.

Sensing his discomfort, you leaned back, trying to ease the tension. “You don’t have to answer. I mean, we’re not exactly close or anything.”

For a moment, you thought he might dodge the question, but then he sighed. “My dad’s been pressuring me to settle down. You know, get serious, date someone, think about marriage.”

That threw you for a loop. “Wait, what? You’re Jungkook—the Jeon Jungkook. Aren’t you supposed to be, like, the king of eligible bachelors or something? I mean… don’t you have a line of people falling at your feet?”

He laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. “You think, so? But the truth is, I do… mess around, sure, but nothing serious. It’s not exactly what my dad wants to hear.”

"You're bluffing," you stared at him, genuinely surprised. “So… you’re telling me all those rumors about you sleeping around are true?”

“Somewhat true,” he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. “But they’re exaggerated. Not that it matters, though. My dad doesn’t care about the details—he just wants results.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “Wow. And here I was thinking you were out there breaking hearts left and right. Turns out, you’re just another guy dealing with family drama.”

“Guess we all have our struggles,” he said.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a small sigh. “You know, I get it. All my friends are pairing up, getting engaged, or having babies, and here I am... still single. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening in a way that made my heart skip just a little. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “You’re just waiting for the right person. Life isn’t a race, you know? Everyone’s clock is different.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Wow, that’s... surprisingly profound coming from you.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I have layers, you know. Like an onion.”

You snorted. “Well, thanks. But really, I appreciate it.”

“I think you’re doing just fine. No one has it all figured out—not even me.”

“Oh, trust me, that part was obvious,” you teased, earning a laugh from him.

You swirled your nearly-empty glass of water, feeling a bit more comfortable now.

“You know, I think we might have potentially be friends if our first impressions of each other weren’t so... well, awful.”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Yeah, maybe. But then again, where’s the fun in starting off on good terms?”

“Touché,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed until the waiter cleared his throat, his third time checking in on us.

“Oh wow,” you said, glancing at the time. “We’ve been here for over an hour. That’s, uh, new.”

He looked just as surprised. “Guess we’re better at this talking thing than I thought.”

As both of you left the restaurant, the crisp morning air hit you, and he glanced at his watch. “My secretary’s on the way. Thanks for the ride and breakfast, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” you said, waving it off. “Consider it payback for the café incident, you know”

As his car pulled up, he paused and glanced back at you. “This was... nice. Surprisingly nice, actually.”

“Agreed,” you said with a grin. “You’re not as big of a jerk as I thought.”

“And you’re not as... well, annoying as I first assumed,” he shot back, his lips curling into a teasing smile.

“Oh, I’m absolutely annoying. Just not to you. Yet.”

He chuckled, opening the car door. “See you when I see you.”

“Or see you never,” you teased, crossing your arms.

He smirked before stepping inside. You watched as his car disappeared down the street, feeling an odd mix of amusement and curiosity swirling in your chest. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what you expected—but something told you it wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

It was the weekend, and Jimin’s birthday had finally arrived. You had spent all morning preparing, carefully selecting the perfect dress a chic yet comfortable outfit that struck just the right balance between effortless and elegant. Jimin had assured you that one of his drivers would pick you up, so you didn’t have to worry about transportation. Classic Jimin, always taking care of everything.

The car pulled up to the dock where you were all supposed to gather before boarding the yacht. The venue was buzzing with an understated elegance soft lights twinkling above, the gentle murmur of waves against the pier, and a cluster of well-dressed guests milling about. Among them, you spotted Hoseok chatting animatedly with his girlfriend. As always, Hoseok radiated charm, while his girlfriend was effortlessly stunning, perfectly complementing his energy.

You also noticed Taehyung, one of Jimin’s close friends. You weren’t exactly close, but you had met a few times at events. With his striking features and magnetic aura, Taehyung always managed to make his presence known without even trying.

You decided to find Jimin to wish him a happy birthday. However, as you approached, you noticed him pacing near the edge of the dock, phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of frustration and exasperation. His voice carried easily over the sound of the water.

"Dude, where are you? You’re the only one not here!” Jimin said, his tone sharp but laced with concern. There was a pause, presumably while the person on the other end responded, and then Jimin huffed.

“I swear, I’m gonna tell your mom about this, and she’ll whoop your ass for bailing on my party,” he threatened, though there was an amused edge to his voice. “You’re such a workaholic. Dude, you need to relax for once in your life.”

With that, he ended the call, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair before noticing you standing nearby.

“Oh, hey! Happy birthday Jimin!” you greeted, you stepped closer to hug him. His frustration melted away into his signature warm smile.

“Just an old friend giving me little trouble, something like that,” he said with a sigh, before flashing a grin. “But enough about that. You look amazing. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you replied. “Now, you better enjoy your night—it’s your birthday, after all.”

“Working on it,” he said with a laugh before you parted ways.

You wandered back toward Hoseok and his girlfriend, joining their lively conversation about the upcoming festivities. Taehyung had drifted into another group, his dry wit adding a humorous edge to the chatter. The minutes passed quickly, and before you knew it, the yacht began to move. The gentle rocking of the boat, paired with the sparkling city lights fading into the distance, set the perfect tone for what promised to be an unforgettable night.

Jungkook leaned back in his office chair, running a hand through his already-messy hair. His desk was cluttered with files, reports, and his laptop—remnants of a day that seemed to stretch forever. He felt a pang of guilt knowing he would be late to Jimin’s party. Jimin wasn’t just any friend; their bond went way back to childhood, forged through their parents’ business ties and countless summers spent together. Yet here he was, always caught up in work, unable to prioritize his personal life. His mother’s nagging voice echoed in his head: "You should spend more time with your friends. Life isn’t all about work, Jungkook."

The guilt doubled when Jimin called earlier, threatening to tattle to his mom if he didn’t show up. Jungkook could almost hear the smirk in Jimin’s voice. With a resigned sigh, Jungkook finally wrapped up his work and rummaged through his closet. He settled on a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a sleek blazer that gave off an effortless yet polished vibe. After all, he couldn’t turn up to a yacht party looking like he just crawled out of a spreadsheet.

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook arrived at the dock just as the yacht began to drift away. The warm glow of lights from the boat reflected off the water, and the sound of laughter and music carried across the night air. He stepped on board, quickly spotting Jimin near the bar.

“Finally!” Jimin exclaimed, pulling Jungkook into a brief hug. “I was about to call your mom again.”

“Don’t start,” Jungkook replied, smirking. “Work ran late.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but grinned. “Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters. Come on, let's have fun.”

The two talked for a while, catching up on life and sharing stories. Despite Jimin’s attempts to nudge him toward mingling, Jungkook remained firmly rooted in the comfort of familiarity, sticking close to Jimin and occasionally chatting with Taehyung.

Meanwhile, you found yourself in a different dilemma. After spending most of the evening with Hoseok and his girlfriend, the couple’s dynamic started to feel a bit suffocating. As much as you adored Hoseok, third-wheeling wasn’t exactly your idea of fun. Deciding you needed some air, you excused yourself and wandered toward the deck, the cool breeze a welcome escape from the noise and chatter.

The yacht had stopped, its anchor dropped in a calm, picturesque spot surrounded by glittering city lights on the horizon. The music from inside was still audible but muffled, creating an oddly serene atmosphere.

As you leaned against the railing, staring out at the water, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned your head slightly and froze.

There he was—Jungkook.

The man who had somehow become a recurring character in your life. His presence was almost magnetic, his sharp features softened by the moonlight. He caught sight of you and hesitated for a moment before walking closer.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice low but carrying easily over the quiet.

You raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same about you. Late to the party?”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, work. As usual.”

You nodded, not entirely surprised. “Let me guess—you’re one of Jimin’s childhood friends?”

“Guilty,” he admitted, leaning on the railing beside you. “And you? How do you know him?”

“Hoseok introduced us,” you replied. “He’s the reason I’m here tonight. Well, that and Jimin being very convincing.”

He smirked. “Sounds about right. Jimin’s good at getting what he wants.”

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment, the distant hum of music blending with the gentle lapping of waves. The two of you weren’t exactly friends, but there was something strangely natural about standing there together.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours. “You’re not exactly blending into the crowd yourself. What are you doing out here?”

You hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “Third-wheeling gets old fast. Thought I would escape for a bit.”

“Fair enough,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Guess we’re both out of place here.”

The night air was cool and crisp as you both leaned against the railings on the quieter side of the yacht. The party was still in full swing on the other side, music and laughter drifting faintly in the background, but here, it felt like you had the world to yourselves. The stars above shimmered in the dark sky, reflected perfectly in the calm water below.

“I just realized,” you said, breaking the peaceful silence, “this is the fourth time we’ve bumped into each other. Is the universe trying to tell us something?”

Jungkook glanced at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Like what?”

You grinned, the words tumbling out before you could stop yourself. “That maybe I’m the girl you’ve been waiting for.”

His eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard. “Wow, you don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, laughing softly. “Why should I? Life’s too short for games.” You hesitated for a moment, then confessed, “Besides, I’ve been thinking about you. A lot more than I probably should.”

Jungkook blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. “You’re… straightforward.”

You smirked, playfully nudging his arm. “And you’re stating the obvious. Look, all I’m saying is, I don’t mind hanging out with you. You’re nice to be around.”

What you didn’t know was that Jungkook’s mind was a swirl of thoughts. He wasn’t going to admit it outright, but you’d been on his mind too. Something about you had stayed with him—the way you spoke your mind, the easy banter, and the way you didn’t seem fazed by who he was.

But before he could respond, you straightened up abruptly, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you had just been. “Okay, wow, that was a lot. I’m blaming the alcohol I had earlier,” you muttered, your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

You took a step back, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but the slight sway of the yacht threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment, you teetered on the edge.

“Whoa!” Jungkook reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back just in time.

“Thanks,” you managed, breathless and slightly shaken.

But before either of you could regain your footing, the yacht gave a sudden, unexpected lurch. It all happened in slow motion.

One moment, you were staring at him, his hand still gripping your arm; the next, both of you were tumbling over the railing. The cold water hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs as you splashed into the dark ocean.

The cold, salty water surrounded you as you struggled to catch your breath, disoriented from the fall. But before panic could fully set in, you felt a strong, reassuring presence beside you. Jungkook's hand reached out, and his voice was calm but urgent.

"Are you okay?" His eyes searched yours, his face just inches from yours, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blinked, feeling a sudden rush of warmth in your chest despite the chill of the water. "I-uh, I am not really a good swimmer," you confessed, your voice shaky.

Jungkook didn't miss a beat. His hand gripped your arm, his touch firm but gentle. "It's okay. Just stay calm. Hold on to me," he instructed, his tone steady, like he had done this a hundred times before. You felt safe.

And for the first time, you were so close to him- closer than you ever thought possible. His face was so... beautiful. The rainwater trickled down his sharp jawline, the moonlight making his features look even more defined. His dark hair, now wet and tousled, framed his face perfectly.

You couldn't help but stare, the way his piercing glinted in the dim light making him look even more striking. How could someone look so perfect, so effortlessly attractive? With a body that was both strong and lean, and that face-it was hard to believe he was actually single. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring how impossibly hot he looked, even with water dripping from his face.

You found yourself almost mesmerized by his lips- those full, kissable lips. Your thoughts started to wander, and before you could stop yourself, you asked the question that had been swirling in your mind.

"Can I kiss you?"

There was a brief pause, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he gave you a small, playful smile. But before you could process it, his lips were on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, testing the waters, so to speak. But then, something shifted. The chemistry that had been building between you two since the first moment you met exploded in an instant.

The kiss deepened, and neither of you hesitated. The sound of the waves lapping against the yacht, the cool water surrounding you, all faded into the background. All that mattered was the heat of his lips against yours, the way he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together in the water.

And it wasn't just you who had been thinking about this. He had been wanting this, too. The way you smiled at him, the way you weren't afraid to speak your mind-it had kept him awake at night, wondering what it would be like to kiss you.

Now that you were here, tangled in the water, neither of you wanted to pull away. Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him, the connection between you both undeniable, magnetic. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely in sync.

It was messy, it was raw, but it was perfect. Just the two of you, lost in the moment.

He pulled back slightly, both of you still floating in the water. His eyes held a certain intensity, the kind of look that could make your heart race.

"You know," he began, his voice surprisingly soft despite the wild rush of emotions, "I've been thinking about you a lot too. More than I care to admit."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart fluttering. The confession was unexpected, yet somehow not. Maybe you’d both been feeling this pull, this magnetic force drawing you closer, even without saying it out loud.

"So, what now?" You smirked, the water now lapping against your skin as you held onto him. "I'm waiting."

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "Waiting for what?" he asked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

"Duh," you laughed softly, your voice teasing. "Waiting for you to ask me out."

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smirk, his laughter warm and unguarded. “I don’t even know your full name,” he shot back, tilting his head slightly.

"You don’t need to know my entire life story to ask me out, Mr. Jeon," you quipped, your tone light but daring. “For the record, I’m Y/N L/N.”

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that sent warmth rushing through you despite the chilly water. “Oh, is that how it works?” he said, his voice dipping, playful yet sincere. “Alright then, Ms. Y/N L/N—can I take you out?”

Your heart stuttered, though you covered it with a grin, you said with exaggerated relief. "Yes, you can.”

You both chuckled, the sound echoing into the night air. It felt so natural, this banter, this undeniable chemistry between you.

“I can’t believe this. Of all the things that could happen…”

“You had to save me, and then we both fell into the ocean,” you finished, chuckling despite yourself.

“Well, if the universe really is giving us signs, it’s not being subtle,” he teased, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Yeah, no kidding,” you said, grinning.

Before the moment could stretch any further, you both heard a loud shout from above.

"Y/N! Jungkook! Are you two alright?!"

It was Jimin's voice, and it snapped you both back to reality. Jungkook rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath.

"Looks like we’ve got an audience," he muttered, before holding onto you tighter.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

As the yacht crew rushed to rescue you, the gravity of the moment settled in.

You had no idea where this unexpected connection might take you, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it seemed like you would stumbled upon something genuine. Something real. Maybe—just maybe—it was love. Against all odds, in the unlikeliest of circumstances, you both found love in a hopeless place.

end.

#jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook romance #jungkook and reader #Spotify

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missarchive · 5 days ago

Text

cognitive dissonance pt 1 - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

who? tutor!spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: fluff, smut

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! dry humping, fingering

word count: 5k

a/n: scheduled post as i am away at a new years music festival with my friends :] i will be back with you all in a few days <3

The first time you saw Spencer Reid was during a lecture hall mix-up in your second week at the university. You had rushed in, clutching your notebook and hoping to secure a spot before the professor started, only to find yourself in a room filled with students much older than you. At the center of it all, there he was—leaning casually against the podium, flipping through a worn-out book with an intensity that made the rest of the world blur around him.

He wasn’t the professor, but he might as well have been. His sharp, confident voice cut through the murmurs as he corrected an older man’s calculation on the whiteboard with such precision that the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. You’d learned his name that day from the whispers: Spencer Reid. The prodigy. The genius with more degrees than anyone knew what to do with.

From then on, he became a background character in your university life—a distant figure who seemed too brilliant, too out of reach, to exist in the same world as you. You heard the rumors, the awe-filled anecdotes: he’d started college as a child prodigy, aced every test like it was nothing, and was now juggling multiple Ph.D. programs.

Your own academic pursuits felt mundane in comparison. Sure, you worked hard, but you struggled. Like now, for instance, staring at the red marks slashing through your latest assignment—a problem set for your advanced statistics class.

“You’ve got potential, but you’re missing the fundamentals,” your professor said when you approached him after class, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I’m assigning you a tutor.”

“A tutor?” you echoed, your stomach dropping. Group study sessions were bad enough; working one-on-one with someone felt like an invitation for them to witness your shortcomings up close.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a knowing smile. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ve paired you with one of the best.”

You didn’t know what to expect as you walked into the library that afternoon, clutching your notes so tightly your knuckles turned white. The email from your professor had given you nothing but a time and a name: Spencer Reid.

Your heart raced as you reached the designated table tucked into a quiet corner of the library. There he was, surrounded by open books and a tower of index cards, his familiar mop of brown hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled something into a notebook. He looked up when you approached, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you freeze in place.

“You’re here for tutoring?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected, though no less confident.

You nodded quickly, struggling to find your words. “Y-yeah, I’m… I’m Y/N. My professor said you’d be helping me with stats?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gestured for you to sit. “Let’s get started, then.”

As you settled into the chair across from him, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another universe—one where Spencer Reid wasn’t just the untouchable genius you’d admired from afar but someone real, someone tangible, someone who, for the first time, was looking directly at you.

You weren’t sure what you expected Spencer Reid’s tutoring style to be, but it certainly wasn’t this. You’d assumed he might be aloof, perhaps brisk, throwing around jargon you’d struggle to keep up with. Instead, he was patient—meticulously breaking down concepts into manageable pieces while his pen skated effortlessly across his notebook.

Not that you could focus on much of it.

His presence was… distracting. The way his long fingers tapped thoughtfully against the edge of the table, the faint crease between his brows when he explained something particularly tricky, the way his lips pursed as he considered your answer before gently redirecting you to the correct one. All of it sent your mind spiraling into a whirlwind of thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics.

“Does that make sense?” Spencer asked, tilting his head as his hazel eyes searched yours.

You blinked, realizing too late that you hadn’t heard a single word of his explanation. Heat rushed to your face as you fumbled for a response. “Um, yeah! Totally. Makes sense.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “Really? Then can you explain why we divide by the square root of the sample size in this calculation?”

Panic flared in your chest. “Oh, uh… because it… balances the equation?” you ventured weakly.

Spencer set his pen down, leaning back slightly as he studied you. There was something disarming about the way he looked at you, like he could see straight through the flustered exterior you were so desperately trying to hold together. And, knowing Spencer Reid, he probably could.

“You’re nervous,” he said, not unkindly, but with the clinical precision of someone stating a fact.

Your breath hitched. “What? No, I’m fine!” you lied, your voice raising an octave.

He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “A lot of people feel overwhelmed during one-on-one tutoring. It’s a different kind of pressure.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sincerity in his tone stopped you. He wasn’t mocking you or trying to make you feel small. If anything, he seemed… concerned.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he continued, his voice almost soothing now. “Because if you’re too focused on feeling self-conscious, it’s going to be harder for you to process the material.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice. Spencer smiled—a small, reassuring curve of his lips—and slid his notebook closer to you.

“Let’s try this,” he said, switching tactics. “Instead of diving into the calculations right away, let’s talk about what you’re struggling with conceptually. No pressure, no judgment. Just a conversation.”

That did help, marginally. His calm demeanor and methodical approach were like a balm to your frazzled nerves. But every now and then, he’d catch you staring at him for a beat too long, your mind wandering to thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics. Each time, his gaze would flicker with amusement, like he knew exactly what was going through your head but was too polite to say anything.

By the time the session ended, your brain felt like it had been wrung out like a sponge—not just from the math but from the sheer effort of keeping yourself together in his presence. As you packed up your things, Spencer handed you a few pages of handwritten notes.

“These should help,” he said, his voice still as calm and steady as ever. “And if you have questions before our next session, feel free to email me.”

You nodded, clutching the notes like a lifeline. “Thanks. I’ll, um… I’ll do that.”

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and curious. And though you were mortified at how obvious your flustered state had been, a tiny part of you couldn’t help but hope he didn’t mind.

You were determined to be better this time. You’d spent hours poring over the notes Spencer had given you, even rewatching a few recorded lectures for good measure. If you couldn’t control the embarrassing way your brain short-circuited around him, the least you could do was come prepared.

But as you approached the table in the library’s corner and saw him already seated, legs crossed, pen twirling lazily between his fingers, you realized preparation could only take you so far. He looked up as you neared, his hazel eyes lighting up briefly in acknowledgment.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice sounding far too breathy for your liking.

“Hi,” he replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he motioned for you to sit. “Ready to dive in?”

You nodded quickly, lowering yourself into the chair and flipping open your notebook. Spencer wasted no time launching into a review of last session’s material, but as he began sketching out a new problem, you felt your focus slipping again.

It wasn’t your fault, really. Who could concentrate with him looking like that? His hair was slightly messier than last time, a few stray curls brushing against his forehead. He chewed absentmindedly on the cap of his pen as he thought, the motion inexplicably captivating. And when he leaned forward to jot down a formula, the faint scent of his cologne hit you, warm and woodsy, leaving your thoughts spiraling once more.

“Did you catch that?” Spencer’s voice cut through your haze. You blinked, realizing you’d been staring—again.

“S-sorry. What?” you stammered, gripping your pen like it might anchor you to reality.

His lips quirked up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I was asking if you understood why we’re using a t-distribution here instead of a z-distribution.”

“Oh! Uh… yes?” you said uncertainly.

Spencer chuckled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “You’re lying.”

Your stomach dropped, and you immediately ducked your head, cheeks flaming. “I’m not lying,” you mumbled.

“You are,” he said, and though his tone was light, there was an unmistakable confidence in his words. “Your body language gave it away. You looked down and shifted in your chair when you answered, which is a pretty common tell.”

You groaned softly, mortified. “Okay, fine. I don’t know why we’re using it.”

“See? That’s progress.” He grinned, and you could swear there was a hint of mischief in his expression. “But I can’t help noticing that your attention seems… elsewhere.”

Your head snapped up at that, your wide eyes meeting his. “What? No! I’m paying attention.”

Spencer tilted his head, his smile widening slightly. “Really? Then why do you keep staring at me?”

Your heart practically stopped. “I’m not—I wasn’t—I mean—” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a flustered mess, and his grin only grew more pronounced.

“It’s fine,” he said smoothly, cutting off your babbling. “I just couldn’t help but notice. You’ve been doing it since last session.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I wasn’t staring,” you lied weakly.

His gaze held yours, unwavering and far too knowing. “You were,” he countered, his voice low and teasing now. “But I’m curious—why?”

“I wasn’t—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were only digging the hole deeper. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” His eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “About the statistics, or something else?”

You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. “The statistics,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and almost smug. “If you say so.”

He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table, and you felt the air shift between you. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softer now, “it’s not a bad thing. People observe things they find interesting.”

The words hung in the air, and you swore your pulse echoed in your ears. You couldn’t tell if he was being matter-of-fact or if there was a deeper implication in his statement, but the knowing glint in his eyes kept you from relaxing.

“Let’s try again,” he said after a beat, tapping his pen against the notebook and effortlessly shifting the conversation back to math. But the playful smirk that lingered on his face for the rest of the session made it clear: he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

When you arrived at your usual table in the library, Spencer was already there, meticulously arranging his materials. His long fingers smoothed out the corner of a page in his notebook, and he glanced up as you approached, offering a small smile that made your stomach flutter despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, sliding into your seat.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice warm and low. “Ready to tackle some more statistics?”

You nodded, pulling out your notebook and pen. He scooted his chair slightly closer—not enough to be obvious, but enough that you could feel the faintest brush of his knee against yours under the table. You froze for a moment, unsure if it was intentional, but Spencer didn’t react.

“Okay,” he began, leaning toward you to sketch out a problem. As he wrote, his shoulder nudged yours lightly. The contact was brief, but it left your skin tingling.

“Let’s start with this,” he said, his pen gliding smoothly across the page. “We’re calculating confidence intervals today. Do you remember the formula from last time?”

You stared at the problem, willing yourself to focus, but the warmth of his proximity made it difficult. “Uh… I think so?”

“Let me jog your memory,” he said. His hand moved toward your notebook, his fingers brushing against yours as he adjusted it to face him. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.

“Sorry,” he said casually, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment. “Didn’t mean to invade your space.”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied quickly, your voice higher than usual. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that the contact had been accidental. But then he leaned even closer, his arm grazing yours as he explained the formula.

“See how the standard error fits into this part?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. It was impossible to concentrate with the way his sleeve brushed against yours, the subtle movement sending a ripple of awareness through you.

“Let’s work through this part together,” Spencer continued, his tone patient. He slid his hand over the notebook, his fingers brushing against yours again as he pointed to a specific number. The touch lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, but his expression remained neutral, as though he hadn’t noticed.

You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or if you were imagining things. Either way, the warmth radiating from him was making your thoughts hazy.

“You okay?” he asked suddenly, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you.

“Yeah! Totally fine,” you said quickly, though your face felt like it was on fire.

He smiled, his expression soft but unreadable. “Good. Let me know if I’m going too fast.”

You nodded, gripping your pen tightly to ground yourself. But Spencer didn’t make it easy. Every time he reached for the notebook or gestured toward your notes, his hand would brush against yours. Once, he leaned forward to grab a pen, his shoulder pressing lightly into yours for a moment that felt both casual and deliberate.

By the time the session was over, your nerves were shot. Spencer handed you a fresh set of notes, his fingers grazing yours yet again as he passed them over.

“These should help,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “You’re doing better than you think, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, clutching the notes to your chest.

“Same time next week?” he asked, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

You nodded, too flustered to say much else. As you walked away, you replayed the session in your mind, questioning every subtle touch, every quiet moment of proximity. Was it intentional, or were you imagining things?

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell—and that you didn’t really mind either way.

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to have Spencer tutor you at your place. The library felt safer somehow, more neutral. But when he’d suggested it—citing the possibility of fewer distractions—you’d found yourself nodding without a second thought.

Now, as you sat across from him at your small dining table, you were second-guessing every decision that had led to this moment.

“Nice place,” Spencer said as he set his bag down and took in the cozy, slightly cluttered room. His eyes lingered on a stack of books by the couch. “Suits you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, fidgeting with your pen. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company, so it’s kind of messy.”

He gave you a small smile, his gaze warm and easy. “It’s fine. Ready to get started?”

You nodded, grateful for the excuse to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that Spencer Reid, in all his impossibly distracting glory, was sitting in your home.

For the first few minutes, you managed to keep things professional. Spencer explained a complex concept with his usual precision, and you actually managed to follow along. But then he leaned closer, pointing out a detail in your notes, and you felt that now-familiar flutter in your chest.

“You’ve got the right idea,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just need to be more precise here.”

He tapped the edge of the page, his hand brushing yours in the process. The contact was brief but enough to make your breath hitch.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing up at you with those impossibly perceptive eyes.

“Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you.

Spencer’s lips quirked, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours under the table. It felt so casual, so natural, that you couldn’t decide if it was intentional.

For a while, he kept his focus on the notes, but his proximity seemed to grow with each passing moment. The air between you felt charged, like static electricity, and you could feel your resolve slipping.

“So,” Spencer said suddenly, leaning back in his chair and studying you with an intensity that made your pulse race, “how are you finding these sessions so far?”

“They’re good,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Really helpful.”

“Helpful,” he repeated, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “You sure about that?”

“Of course,” you replied, glancing up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours, and the weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear. “You seem… distracted sometimes.”

“I’m not distracted,” you said defensively, though the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise.

Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice dropped slightly, the teasing edge unmistakable. “Are you sure? Because I get the feeling you’ve been paying more attention to me than the math.”

Your stomach flipped, and you looked down, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s not true,” you muttered.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone soft but insistent.

Before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers grazing yours as he took the pen from your hand. The movement was slow, deliberate, and it left your skin buzzing.

“Relax,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just helping.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice shaky.

“Yes?” he murmured, his gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest of moments.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The tension between you was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

Spencer’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing against yours again. This time, the touch lingered, deliberate and unmistakable. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and steady.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you found yourself leaning ever so slightly toward him, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a slow, careful movement, Spencer closed the distance between you, his hand resting lightly on yours as he tilted his head. The kiss, when it came, was soft and tentative, like he was giving you every opportunity to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into him, your heart pounding as you let yourself get lost in the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“Still distracted?” he asked, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips.

Your heart thundered in your chest as his words hung in the air. You couldn’t decide if the heat coursing through you was from the kiss or the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating puzzle he’d ever encountered.

“Very,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened slightly, but it wasn’t the smug grin you expected. It was softer, almost tender, though his eyes still carried that flicker of mischief.

“Maybe we should take a break,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost inviting.

You nodded, your breath catching as he stood and motioned toward the couch in the living room. You followed him, your nerves on edge but your body moving of its own accord.

The moment you sat down, the tension between you snapped like a rubber band. Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, as though giving you one last chance to stop him, before leaning in again.

This time, there was nothing tentative about it. His lips met yours with more certainty, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as the kiss grew more fervent.

Spencer shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours as his free hand settled on your waist. The pressure was light, grounding, but it sent a shiver down your spine all the same. His thumb traced a small, absent-minded circle against your side, and the simple motion made your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him to angle the kiss more deeply. He responded immediately, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer. The world outside your apartment ceased to exist, leaving only the heat of his body and the intoxicating pull of his lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Spencer’s forehead rested lightly against yours, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

“I think,” he said after a moment, his voice rougher than usual, “we’ve officially crossed into not studying territory.”

You laughed softly, your hands still clutching the front of his shirt. “You think?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers lingered on your waist, and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re full of surprises, you know,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Me?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who—”

Before you could finish, he kissed you again, effectively silencing any protest. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring every second. You sighed against his lips, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as you gave in to the moment.

Spencer’s hands, steady but careful, slid down from your waist to rest on your hips. He shifted closer, and you felt the subtle press of his body against yours, his touch firm but never overwhelming. When his knee nudged between your legs, your breath hitched, the pressure sparking a warmth that spread through you like wildfire.

You froze for half a second, unsure if the movement had been intentional, but Spencer didn’t pull back. Instead, his lips moved against yours with more intent, and his hands tightened ever so slightly on your hips, guiding you just enough for the tension between you to crackle and deepen.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders more tightly as you let yourself lean into him.

Encouraged by your response, Spencer deepened the kiss, his knee pressing more firmly between your thighs. The sensation was maddeningly slow, his movements deliberate and measured as though he was testing every reaction. You gasped softly, and he swallowed the sound with a small, satisfied hum.

His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your ribs just beneath the hem of your shirt. The touch was gentle, but the heat of his palms against your skin left you trembling.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I’m going to ask you a question from one of our sessions. If you get it right, I’ll keep going. If you don’t…” His hands stilled against your skin, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk growing. “Well, I’ll have to stop.”

Your mouth went dry. Was he serious? The challenge in his eyes told you he absolutely was.

“Spencer…” you started, your voice shaky with anticipation and a tinge of frustration.

“Hm?” he prompted, his hands sliding down slightly but remaining just beneath your shirt, a silent reminder of what was at stake. “What’s the formula for calculating a confidence interval?”

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to recall the formula you’d seen so many times in your notes. But all you could focus on was the way his fingers were still, waiting, as though they held the key to your ability to think.

“Um,” you began, your voice faltering. “It’s, uh, the mean… plus or minus… the critical value?”

Spencer’s smirk widened, his head tilting slightly as though he was considering your answer. “Close,” he said, his hands retreating slightly. “But not quite. Want to try again?”

“No, wait!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing as you tried to focus. “The mean plus or minus the critical value times the standard error?”

He hummed softly, his fingers resuming their slow circles. “There it is,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “See? You can focus when you want to.”

Your heart pounded as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the underside of your bra. The sensation was enough to make your breath hitch, but you barely had time to react before he spoke again.

“Next question,” he said, his tone taking on a slightly firmer edge. “What’s the first step in solving a regression problem?”

Your brain felt like it had been set on fire. How were you supposed to remember academic concepts when his hands were touching you like this?

“I—I think…” you stammered, biting your lip as you tried to focus. “The first step is… identifying the variables?”

Spencer’s brow lifted, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. “Good,” he said, his hands sliding back down to your waist. “But don’t forget to check your assumptions first. Details matter.”

You let out a soft whine of frustration, but the sound turned into a gasp as his knee pressed gently between your legs again, reigniting the fire building in your core.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he spoke. “But I think you can do better.”

The challenge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve crumbling under the weight of his attention.

“What’s the difference between Type I and Type II errors?” he asked, his tone almost clinical despite the heat radiating from him.

“Type I is… rejecting a true null hypothesis,” you managed, your voice shaky. “And Type II is failing to reject a false one.”

Spencer grinned, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. “Excellent,” he said softly. “You’re such a quick learner when you try.”

The praise made your heart race, warmth blooming in your chest as his words sank in. You barely had a chance to respond before his hand slid lower, resting on the bare skin just above the waistband of your pants.

“You deserve a reward,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“A reward?” you managed, your voice breathless and unsteady.

He chuckled softly, his lips moving to your neck, pressing a series of slow, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin. “For all your hard work,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers toying with the elastic of your waistband. “Don’t you think you’ve earned it?”

Your only response was a soft, shaky nod, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as though it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Good girl,” he said, the words barely above a whisper, but they sent a jolt through your entire body.

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your pants, his touch deliberate and teasing as he traced the edge of your panties. He paused for a moment, his lips ghosting over your ear as he murmured, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with certainty.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slipped lower, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your panties to find your most sensitive spot. The first touch was light, almost experimental, but it was enough to make you gasp softly, your body arching into him.

“That’s it,” Spencer murmured, his voice filled with quiet satisfaction. “You’re doing so well.”

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to leave you trembling in his grasp. His other hand slid up to cup your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could capture your lips in another searing kiss.

The contrast between his steady, controlled movements and the growing intensity of his kisses was intoxicating, leaving you completely at his mercy. He broke the kiss just long enough to study your face, his eyes dark with desire but filled with a surprising tenderness.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

The praise made your cheeks flush, but before you could respond, his fingers pressed more firmly against you, drawing a soft whimper from your lips.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. “So responsive. So perfect.”

His words and touch combined left you completely undone, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. All you could do was cling to him, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

taglist: @opheliahotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #bau x reader #missarchive

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briseroyawritingsblog · 3 months ago

Text

𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒍𝒆

𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒙 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒚𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅!𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒍!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. large age gap (young but legal) kissing, making out, mentions of sex, little praising, feelings, pet names. etc.

picture credits (ig: @forhjackman) / dividers by @anitalenia 🤍

𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

You’ve done this so many times yet you always felt anxious every time the cameras started to flash. You wore the most beautiful dress which was almost see through exposing your lingerie right underneath. The loud applauses filled the hall, the music blasted. That gave you strength, sitting in front of your vanity you slipped your feet in the most prettiest designer high heels. You looked at yourself in the mirror spritzing some perfume on your chest which left glitter at its wake you licked your lower lip. You’ve read that so many celebrities were attending the show, and the after party was supposed to be throughout the evening. You met celebrities and movie stars all the time especially in your line of work– The doors swung open, you gathered your courage winking towards your best friend as you started to walk the catwalk. Catching so many eyes you blew a kiss towards the camera and gave a little twirl hearing people applause you. Worldwide designers admiring your body and the exquisite pieces you’ve worn, you felt lightweight. The cameras flashed before your eyes exposing the glitters and sparkles on the dress, the lines of your lingerie and your stockings completing the look as you stopped at the edge catwalk waving giving them your best smile. Hugh adjusted in his seat next to Ryan applauding you. You noticed Blake who cheered for you right in the front row next to her husband. Your heart started to beat faster as you saw Hugh. Your eyes met, biting your lower lip you turned around to walk back making sure he caught a glimpse of your ass. After seeing his latest movie– He was your crush. For months and you finally had your chance to give him a show. Not turning back you walked backstage to only have the dress removed off you and it was your turn to present another set of lingerie this time black, with pink bows. Large black wings were attached to your back and your hair got styled in a different way. The top of your head was now decorated with a white angelic halo. While other models walked out, you kept an eye on Hugh who seemed to be chatting with Ryan and not paying attention much to the other hot models who were walking up and down the catwalk.

It was your turn to walk again, so you took a deep breath watching the doors open for you. With confidence you walked out, the heels you had on your feet were all diamonds and butterflies. The most expensive shoes you’ve ever worn in your career. As you neared towards Hugh he stopped talking–seeing you, there wasn’t smile on his face. He wasn’t applauding you– his eyes were hooded and clouded with desire. He found you mesmerising…Your hands traveled up and down your own body as you danced to the song giving the cameras excellent shots of your lingerie and body. Hugh swallowed, you giggled covering your lips making him laugh under his breath shaking his head. Giving high fives to your girls as they walked past you, you winked at Hugh and walked back to backstage. Your heart clamoured against your chest, fuck…

The afterparty was not only successful, but eventful too. Your job was booked again for the fall and you couldn’t wait to work with gucci again. Their latest collections were to die for, asking for a dirty martini by the bar with a smile swiping your card to pay– a manly voice caught your ears. You gulped, turning around to see Hugh chatting away by one of the tables shaking hands with people holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. You were brave at the catwalk; giving him a little teasing show but now you wanted to disappear. Clutching your bag to your chest you quickly sipped your martini praying he wouldn’t see you but it was too late. His eyes found yours through the crowd and you placed your glass down mentally cursing because he was coming near and approaching you. You dug away through the crowd making him wanting you more.

You hoped to disappear when a large hand tugged you and pulled you forward so your face practically hit his rock hard chest. “I’m sorry” you squealed blushing wildly. “Sorry? What for?” He finished his whiskey, giving the glass to the waiter pulling you to the side behind brown drapes. You were hidden from the crowd, you gulped as his eyes darkened looking at you. “Givin me a little show huh?” You bit your lower lip. “I’m sorry Sir.. couldn’t help it.” Hugh chuckled cupping your cheek “Sir huh? Fuck formalities darlin..” his thumb tapping your lower lip his face leaning closer to yours “you looked fuckin gorgeous up there, gave me a little show.. and this ass” he hummed groping you pulling you against his growing erection. “I’m glad you loved it..” you gasped feeling him. “Can I?” Your question made him chuckle. Your dainty hands caressed his strong biceps, moaning softly under your breath you inhaled his cologne. “C’here” he breathed pressed you against the wall, his mouth was on yours. “Been having my eyes on you all evening.. but you fuckin ran like a little mouse when you see me” he sucked your lower lip. You moaned into the kiss, parting your lips for his tongue. Heat and butterflies awakened in your belly as you moved your hands on his torso. “When can I see you darlin?” He asked planting kisses on your jawline slowly making you whimper out pulling him closer at you feeling so little in his arms. His large hands groping your butt coaxing you against him. “come to my hotel room.. please” you slipped your hotel card in his pocket. He smiled against your lips before kissing you “I will see you there sweetheart..” you nodded pulling him into another heated kiss, he laughed softly under his breath moving his arms around you kissing you feverishly with tongue and warm breaths even a soft moan from him. “I don’t like to stop.. just wanna keep goin’–“ he breathed licking into your mouth taking away your breath and you nodded letting him engulf you in his embrace and kiss you until you both were a breathless mess.

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x female reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman imagine

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freyaphoria · 4 months ago

Note

I see the request is back to open AAAAA!

lately I've been imagining if mingi is good at sewing and it's his soft side (because I saw the FIX ON stuffs and wondering if he produces the stuff by himself), so he had a crush with yn but he is to shy to say it. when he saw yn kissed by his best friend yunho he became so madly jealous and feel guilty because he can't blame his best friend and got mad to yn instead.

by the next day he saw yn and yn is smiling at mingi as if nothing happened.... he wonders if those pretty lips could smile only at him, by sewing yn's lips.

Broken Doll

tw: dark fic!!!! Yan!Mingi, kidnapping, stitches, fainting, blood, kissing, obsessive behaviors, mingi is sooo delulu loll, restriction with handcuffs (let me know if I missed something)

wc: 2.7k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto @hwxbibi (dm me if you want to join the taglist)

Mingi stood in the dim light of his room, taking in the sight of his latest creation one final time. His fingers carefully traced the last knots and ties of the thread he had worked so diligently to secure. He let his eyes linger on the hoodie he had meticulously sewn just for you, its fabric soft and inviting, featuring his signature stitched phrase "fix on" that had become a signature of his work – it was the 47th item he had lovingly sewn with you in mind. With a careful motion, he folded the hoodie and placed it gently into the wardrobe he had designated exclusively for your clothes. Inside the closet, various dresses, t-shirts, skirts, coats, hoodies, and many other clothes were waiting, all sewn by him to fit your body and style perfectly. Mingi often daydreamed about the moment he would summon the courage to present these lovingly made items to you, to see you adorned in the clothes he had crafted with his own hands.

His eyes scanned the collection, trying to find which piece stood out as the most exquisite. If he were to gift you one tomorrow, which would be worthy of such an honor? Mingi's hand glided along the hangers, his fingertips brushing against the various fabrics. Despite the perfection he strived for in each garment, his eyes found minute imperfections in every piece. After careful consideration, he decided that the hoodie he had just completed would be the ideal first gift. It represented his most recent work, showcasing the refinement of his skills over time. The choice of your favorite color for the fabric and the elaborate embroidery of his "fix on" signature – a signature he had been incorporating into his creations for years – made it particularly special. The timing seemed perfect as well. With the weather turning cooler, gifting you the hoodie would allow him the pleasure of seeing you wear it. The thought of you wrapped in his handiwork sent a shiver of excitement through him.

This hoodie was not just a piece of clothing; it was a lasting impression of his feelings for you. He resolved that he wouldn’t postpone any longer; the next day would be the day he would finally tell you how he felt and present the hoodie to you. He had to stop his growing admiration for you from reaching a dangerous level, and the best way to do that was to tell you that he loved you.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The following day, Mingi arrived on campus, his nerves frayed with anticipation. In his hands, he clutched the carefully wrapped gift, a physical manifestation of his affection. His body betrayed his anxiety – hands trembling, breath coming in short gasps, eyes heavy from a sleepless night spent rehearsing what he would say to you. As he scanned the familiar surroundings, he noticed something unusual: Yunho, his best friend and constant companion, was nowhere to be seen. This absence struck Mingi as odd. He and Yunho were practically inseparable, and it was unlike his friend not to check in with a simple "where are you?" message. As he walked, Mingi pulled out his phone and attempted to call Yunho, but there was no answer. His heart lowered slightly, as he could have used his friend's support and advice in this moment. Approaching the cafeteria, a familiar spot where they often met, he felt a surge of anticipation mixed with anxiety. He called Yunho again, hoping for a response, but what happened before him made his heart drop.

There, right in front of him, was Yunho, completely engrossed in a passionate kiss with you. You both looked so lost and passionate; Yunho’s hands were on your waist and your hands were tangled in Yunho’s hair. It took a moment, but when you caught sight of him standing there, your surprise registered on your face, and you instinctively pulled away from him; confusion clouded Yunho's face as he turned, suddenly locking gazes with his stunned friend.

In that moment, a whirlwind of emotions surged through Mingi – shock, betrayal, anger, and heartbreak collided within him. Despite the turmoil, Mingi didn't blame Yunho; after all, he had never told Yunho about his love for you. Yes, Yunho knew he was in love with someone, but Mingi had never said it was you. He didn't blame Yunho; if Yunho had known that Mingi was in love with you, he would never have done such a thing, Mingi was sure of that. All of Mingi's hurt and anger, therefore, became focused solely on you. Hadn't he made it clear before that he liked you? In his mind, he had made his feelings abundantly clear – the smiles, the shared class notes, the daily greetings. He believed his actions had spoken louder than words, making a formal confession almost unnecessary. But you, like a whore, had kissed his best friend, Yunho. Slut. How could you do this to Mingi? Despite all the clothes he had specially sewn for you, despite the masterpieces he had spent hours on, you had chosen his friend. Mingi could never forgive this.

You pulled away from Yunho's lips and smiled at Mingi. You fucking smiled. This had to be a joke, or Mingi must be having a terrible nightmare. Like a slut, you had cheated on him with his friend and then smiled to his face. That smile, which he had once found so endearing, now seemed to mock him. Mingi immediately left the cafeteria with growing anger and disappointment inside him and locked himself in the bathroom.

Of course, you and Yunho didn't understand what had happened. Mingi was just a friend to you, you had liked Yunho for weeks, and it was obvious that Yunho liked you too. Why had Mingi suddenly gotten angry and left? "Baby, let me check on Mingi." After Yunho kissed you one last time, you nodded, and with Yunho's leaving, you were left alone in the cafeteria.

Mingi's phone kept ringing with Yunho's missed calls, but Mingi didn't answer any of them. He wasn't angry at him; he just didn't know what to say to him. Mingi valued their friendship too much to risk saying something in the heat of the moment that he might later regret. You were the only one to blame here. You had gotten close to Yunho while Mingi was around, and on top of that, you had smiled at Mingi as if nothing had happened. A dark thought began to take root in his mind – you needed to be punished for the pain you had caused him.

Normally, Mingi wouldn't have kidnapped you; he had thought about it before and wanted you to fall in love with him on your own and live with him willingly, but after this, Mingi was going to kidnap you and punish you.

He stuffed the gift he had carefully prepared and wrapped for you into his bag and headed towards the parking lot, where the cameras had broken down long ago but no one had fixed it.

Yunho searched for Mingi everywhere in the college, called him countless times on the phone, but there was no sound from Mingi. When he realized that his class was about to start, he gave up and decided to stop by Mingi's house after class.

Mingi waited for your class to end, like a lion lying in ambush, beside your car, waiting for you without being seen by anyone. When he finally spotted you walking alone towards the parking lot, a momentary pang of guilt struck him. You looked so vulnerable, so unaware of the turmoil raging within him. But in his twisted logic, he pushed aside these feelings, convincing himself that his actions were justified.

Mingi's pent-up emotions exploded in a moment of brutal force as he ambushed you from behind. The sound of your head repeatedly hitting the car echoed in his ears, but he couldn't stop. He was hitting so fast that you were sure you would die there. Before you could even process what was happening, darkness engulfed you, and Mingi took your car key that had fallen from your hand, opened your car, seized the opportunity to bundle you into your own car. After making sure he hadn't left any traces behind, he got into the driver's seat. "I did this because you made me angry. You have to pay for what you've done." Mingi? This name flashed in your mind. The voice belonged to Mingi. But why would Mingi do this to you? Mingi's voice sounded very distant, as if you were in a glass jar and hearing the outside muffled. You tried to move your hands, but they were very heavy. When he started your car, you stopped resisting and closed your eyes.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

When your eyes fluttered open, a wave of numbness enveloped your entire body, leaving you disoriented and struggling to piece together your surroundings. You racked your brain for any memory of what had transpired, but found only a disconcerting void. There was an echo of a sound that faintly resonated in your ears, reminiscent of an engine's hum, yet softer and more persistent, like a background murmur that wouldn't fade away.

Your hands were tied firmly to something on either side, and as you tried to shift them, a feeling of helplessness washed over you. The bright white light that flooded your vision was blinding, making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open for more than a fleeting moment. Attempts to speak or scream were futile; your mouth felt as if it were encased in a thick fog of numbness. You couldn't even muster the strength to part your lips or form the words that desperately wanted to escape.

As your vision slowly clears, you make out the silhouette of someone, a man hunched over a desk. And that annoying sound that was constantly piercing your brain was coming from there. You wanted to open your mouth and tell him to stop that, but both your mind was very tired, and your mouth was numb; you couldn't feel your lips, tongue, or teeth. The figure paused their work, momentarily silencing the continuous sound, and you watched as he picked up a pair of scissors from the cluttered desk, his movements deliberate yet mysterious. When he lifted his head, revealing a piece of fabric that lay in his hands, clarity began to creep in—you realized he was sewing something with a sewing machine. But confusion clouded your thoughts.

But why? Why were you here, and why was he sewing something here? Did you know him? Your mind was very foggy; you tried to come to your senses, but it was very difficult. A flicker of recognition stirred within you. You felt a sense of familiarity toward the person, although his name eluded you. Min... It started with an 'M.'

"So you're awake, doll," the figure spoke, getting up from the chair and making his way towards you. As he approached, a sense of dread settled in your stomach. "I didn't think you'd sleep for such a long time; I thought you were dead." He crouched down to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker. "How do you feel?" he asked, his hand brushing softly against your head, yet the touch felt unsettling. You wanted to say you felt disgusting, but your lips didn't move. He got up from where he was crouching and sat next to you on the soft bed you were lying on. "It's silly of me to ask you questions and expect you to answer," you didn't understand what he was talking about. You were getting more and more silent, and the pain in your head had reached a noticeable level. You wanted to moved your arms, but cold metal handcuffs on both sides prevented you. Panic was progressively spreading through your veins, and your irregular breathing was the only sound filling the silent room.

He gazed at you for what felt like an eternity, allowing a heavy sigh to escape his lips. "You look very beautiful," he said, a statement that should have brought warmth but instead sent a chill down your spine. As he reached out toward you, an instinctual urge to pull back surged within you, but the energy to do so eluded you. His fingers brushed against what you thought were your lips, a gentle caress that you couldn’t feel, leaving you in an unsettling state of numbness. "First, let me remind you why you're here," he continued, his voice smooth yet sinister. "I've loved you for a long time, I admire you, but you, like a whore, went and kissed my best friend. That's why I kidnapped you."

Mingi.

The name jolted your memory back to fragmented moments; flashes of laughter, stolen glances, and the painful realization that he harbored feelings for you. Confusion wrestled with disbelief as he spoke, all while a smile danced on his lips, his fingers still trailing along your face. The smile was disarming, but it contrasted sharply with the surreal horror of the moment. You suddenly felt a wave of panic when his hands moved down to your clothes. You were even more confused when you noticed that your outfit had completely changed. The new clothes were made of a fabric you didn't recognize, and a deep sense of dread set in as you looked down at them in shock. As you were trying to look at yourself in surprise, Mingi spoke. "Ah, do you like your new clothes? I sewed them. I made them all carefully to fit your body perfectly." Due to the increasing panic, your head was starting to spin, and you were slowly regaining consciousness.

You wanted to shout at him, curse at him; you wanted to ask why you were here, tell him to let you go, but you couldn't open your mouth and speak, as if your mouth was numb like in a nightmare. "I also sewed something else; would you like to see it?" His question hung in the air, and you could only manage a slow shake of your head, a silent plea for him to stop. The handcuffs biting into your wrists were relentless, the tightness a stark reminder of your captivity, and a numbness was beginning to creep into your fingers.

Mingi excitedly stood up, walked a bit in the room, and took a large mirror in his hand and approached you again. As you were about to try to pull back in fear, you saw your own reflection in the mirror.

Was that thing you saw really you? It was as if you were seeing a film frame from a banned torture movie. What you saw was so foreign to you that you couldn't even react at first. Your lips were sewn together, meticulously stitched up like a doll, swollen and bloodied, thick threads crisscrossing in a grotesque pattern that held them shut, and gave a smiling expression.

This couldn’t be real. You felt the numbness in your lips, yet the sight before you defied all comprehension. Your mind raced; how could this be happening? Surely you would feel something if your lips were truly sewn shut. But right now you felt nothing.

"How is it? Do you like it?" Mingi's voice sliced through your panicked thoughts, his expression filled with a sickening delight. You tried to respond, to express the intense horror consuming you, but your voice betrayed you, silenced in this waking nightmare. "I sewed your lips because you smiled at someone other than me, because you talked to him, and because you kissed him. You belong to me, only me." A small sound escaped from your throat, a pathetic echo of your horror. Mingi’s smile broadened, but it was devoid of warmth, a chilling reminder of the depths of his obsession.

"Broken toys need to be repaired, don’t they? You were broken too, doll, very broken." He lowered the mirror, closing the distance between you, leaning in with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "So I repaired my most beautiful toy by sewing it.” You started to shake and felt like you couldn't breathe. “You can just smile at me." Just as Mingi was about to approach your lips and kiss you, he was interrupted by the familiar ringing of his doorbell.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

a/n: Hello! If you read this far, thank you, you were not bored lolll. I would be very happy if you could give me feedbacks!❤️❤️❤️

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astroboots · 2 years ago

Note

Where does Boa hide these around the house to best fuck with Santi?

BEHIND ENEMY LINES

Summary: Santiago is on a mission to take out your army of freakishly ugly mutant toys that you keep placing on his desk.

Homecoming Drabbles | Homecoming Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist

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They're back again.

Santiago stares at the horrifying toy creature. Half husky and half--- penguin? Is that what it fucking is?!

He can't keep his eyes from the small miniature toy, its hauntingly blue piercing eyes and dog-like snout, its two flappy wings held against its protruding belly and standing on two webbed feet.

He doesn't know. Doesn't know where you managed to find this godless toy. Doesn't know what the toy manufacturer was thinking when they greenlit this for production. Doesn't know what kind of hallucinogenic drugs the designer must've been on when he made it.

Only thing he knows, is that it's fucking hideous is what it is.

Narrowing his eyes at the abomination, he glares at it in indignant anger where it sits perched on his desk. He threw this out last week. Stealthily took it out on the day it was Frankie's turn to take out the trash, so you couldn't find it and stop it beforehand.

So he doesn't know how it's back. Or worse, he doesn't know how now there's not only a husky penguin but right next to it there's also malformed sad looking half-tiger, half-squirrel.

He thought there was only the one. But with the appearance of this second one... fuck it can't be.

... Fuck.

You have the whole fucking line up hidden somewhere don't you?

And if he throws these two away... he's pretty sure like the fucking mythical Hydra of Lerna, there's going to be four of them lined up on his desk by tomorrow.

That won't do.

But he also doesn't want to sit here, looking at schematics for his latest consulting project, and having to stare up at these hideous crimes against nature and god. No, he needs to get rid of them...

But there's no way out of this that doesn't end in an escalation until his desk becomes a gathering ground of these horrifying mutant toys... Unless he takes it out by the source. Destroy the nest so that it cannot breed more... Sniff out where you've hidden this mutant-freak toy army and get rid of them before you'll ever see him coming.

Santiago glances up at the clock. 4.30pm, you'll be home within the hour, he still got time. Pushing his chair away from his desk, he skulks down the hallway to the guestroom where you tend to store all your junk. All the crazy shit you keep dragging back home from the antique stands and farmers market you drag him to at ungodly early hours on Sunday morning. The haunted porcelain dolls, the joke taxidermy--with mice wearing human clothes and squirrels that are in a boxing match-- and the collection of inappropriately sexy Christmas baubles you got in a moving box on the shelf.

He continues to root around, in the empty shoe boxes stored under the guest bedroom. The first one contains--- more sexy Christmas baubles, one that looks eerily alike Michael Bublé that makes his skin crawl. The second--a bunch of old photo albums. The third-- just a bunch of brightly colored socks, that shouldn't be stored there in the first place. He digs around and-- Bingo.

In the very bottom, inside a sealed plastic bag he finds what he is looking for. It's the rest of the pack. A confused looking zebra-kangaroo, a lion-gerbil?! (or is it hamster, jesus-- it's horrifying). And finally a face that will haunts his nightmares until the end of time... The face of a gorilla staring up at him, eerily detailed and accurate, with the body of an elephant.

Actually forget seeing this in his nightmares, Santiago doesn't think he'll ever sleep again after seeing this. He shakes his head as he pulls up the bag pinched between his thumb and index finger, not even daring to clutch it in his hand, as he tucks it inside his sweater, closing the lid before leaving the room and heading down towards the garage.

He's not taking any risks, he's heading straight into the car to the junkyard himself to make sure these things aren't recovered by some deus ex machina intervention.

"Santiago have you been going through my stuff?" you ask.

Santiago doesn't look up from the pages of his book, as he takes another sip at his piping hot coffee. "What do you mean sweetheart?"

He doesn't need to look at you to know the look that will be in your eye. The way you're narrowing your eyes at him in observation, the way a detective would pin down their suspected perpetrator in an interrogation room.

"My stuff in the guestroom," you clarify.

"No clue." He has to bite the inside of his cheeks to tamper down the grin that's threatening to escape.

What follows is your usual morning routine after breakfast. When he says bye by the front porch, you throw him a quick kiss goodbye, but you linger for longer than you normally do. Your eyes squinting down on him, a silent accusation of, "I know what you did."

Santiago doesn't say shit.

Instead he waves you off like a young maiden in an old timey black and white movie waving off their husband to war with a handkerchief, as he turns back into the house, smiling like a loon. The feeling of victory surging bright in his veins.

Santiago practically skips on each steps up the staircase back to his office, humming, and if he could be any happier he would be floating.

He opens the door, the refreshing spring breeze flowing in through his window. The morning sun spilling across the length of his desk when he sees it.

His smile drops.

No.

Fuck no.

You gotta be kidding.

They're back again.

Standing in a neat tidy line in front of his computer screen, the whole family is gathered. Husky-penguin, Tiger-squirrel, Zebra-kangaroo, Lion-gerbil/hamster and the most nightmare inducing of them all... Gorilla-elephant.

He doesn't understand.

He drove them there.

Personally chucked them into a bag and into the junkyard where it can never be retrieved. But...

They're all back... and they brought friends.

He threw away five, and now there's ten....

He stares at them, the whole of the line up. At each ugly, deformed, mutant, hybrid animal toy creature, eyes lingering in particular at the horrifying shark with four slim and graceful legs and hooves.... And he doesn't even know what to say.

He doesn't even know what the fuck this is.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #💌 asks

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doryyaaa · 11 months ago

Note

Hii may I request a short fic of Kazuya x Fem reader on a date but Kazuya’s ideal date is showing off his massive shoe collection

It’s date night with Kazuya, and he’s brought you up to his office for a special surprise. The room is huge, decorated with dark wood and gold accents, plush leather sofas and glossy statues. You find no signs of any surprise, however, until Kazuya presses a button and the wall behind his desk slides wide open with a hiss.

“Woah.” Standing by the entrance, you gape at the sheer size of Kazuya’s walk-in closet, filled from floor to ceiling. There are sneakers of every kind, rare collectibles and limited runs from top brands all over the globe.

Kazuya snickers. “Well? Hurry up and get in there. Plenty more to see.”

You absolutely cannot believe this man. You follow him down the long corridor, and the tiny smirk never leaves his face. Few things ever made Kazuya this pleased, but he’s shown you yet another side of himself, a privilege granted to none other.

“So,” you ask nonchalantly, “how many pairs do you own, exactly?”

“Take a guess.”

“One thousand?”

Kazuya laughs again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not even close,” he says, and leads you to an elevator off the side. It carries you up to another floor filled with even more sneakers, glowing from the shelves in pristine condition. Kazuya herds you around like an excited puppy, tugging your hand or clutching your waist whenever you fall behind.

“Hey, can I try this on?” You point to a custom pair behind a glass case.

“Foolish woman.” Kazuya huffs. “That’s the wrong size.” He goes to pick a different pair—pink diamond-encrusted, the latest designer model that’s not even on the market yet. It’s gorgeous, and it’s obvious he had it made just for you. Under the chandelier lights, the diamonds shine bright at his hand. Even under his three-piece suit, his chiseled figure cuts a godlike image.

“Aw, babe! You shouldn’t have.” You give a cheeky grin, then Kazuya plants you onto a velvet chair, leaning down close enough that your lips brush ever so slightly. He drops the shoes in your lap and whispers his command.

“Now try that on.”

Kazuya pulls back with his own teasing grin, knowing full well you wanted to close that small distance between you. He sits in the chair across you and beckons with a challenge.

“Well, are you going to show me or not? Don’t keep me waiting,” Kazuya says.

And oh, you’re going to enjoy this as much as he will.

#tekken #kazuya mishima #x reader #kazuya x reader #tekken fic #the other stuff will come out soon is2g im just slow 😂

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womens-wear-tips · 2 months ago

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luxstudiousa · 3 months ago

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shehanazindia · 5 months ago

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popcultureoverdosed · 1 year ago

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GTA 6 Fanfic- Almost Perfect Heist

" Put ya hands where I can see them and money in the bag!"

Two assailants charged into a busy convenience store in one fateful morning. The duo were practically glued to the hip with how they refused to leave the side of the other. Jason seemed to be the leader of the operation from the way he swaggered inside with brimming confidence while his partner, Lucia, faltered ever so slightly. They kept their guns trained on their targets as they made their way to the store's center.

A suffocating cloud of consternation hung heavy in the air, chilling the blood of almost everyone there. Crimes like this were far from uncommon in Vice City. You could hardly walk a few blocks without encountering dried blood caked up on the concrete or the cries of the helpless victim on their last day on earth. The patrons all instinctively knew that no cops would arrive just in time to save them from their darkest hour. If they remained obedient, they'd get to leave with their lives and a hungry wallet.

" You heard the man! Just give us all y'all cash and we'll be on our way."

Lucia walked around the store loading her bag with money while Jason dealt with the cashier. Everyone was quick to hand her their money before they ended up as yet another statistic. Many sobbed uncontrollably while others glared at her with barely suppressed anger. Lucia grinned wickedly as her loot steadily increased. Images of designer purses and shoes flashed in her mind, a collection of which seemed to grow every few weeks. She was about to check up on Josh when she heard IT.

The deafening sound of a bullet leaving its chamber in hot pursuit of its latest victim. Lucia moved to the front the see the cashier convulsing on the ground with a fresh bullet wound in his stomach. Hot tears raced down the cashier's face while he clutched at his wound. Lucia knew the look in his eyes quite well.

The look of someone with their back against the wall with no one to save them. A face that reflected years of pain and regret. She often held that same expression before she met Jason. Before she sold her soul for a life of degeneracy.

" That's what happens when you try to be a fucking hero!" Jason cocked his head in Lucia's direction. " This fool got some mighty balls on him, trying to take my gun like that. He's lucky I didn't blast his head off. Let's bounce."

Lucia nodded and the two dashed out of the store and into a white Toyota Ae86. As Jason burned rubber on the hot asphalt, Lucia's mind drifted to the cashier. She wondered if he too had a loved one who would mourn him should the bullet wound prove fatal. She imagined all the anger, fear, and grief that must be consuming all those customers. Lucia was usually unfettered when she was with Jason, but she couldn't help feeling that all their crimes would eventually catch up with them. Sometimes she pretended not to care and other times those dreadful thoughts kept her tossing and turning throughout the night. Either way, this was the only life she knew how to live and she was damn sure to make the most of it.

#grand theft auto #Grand theft auto 6 #gta 6 #Lucia gta #Jason gta #Fanfic #Crime fiction #microfiction #flash fiction #videogame #robbery

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morimementa · 1 year ago

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I’ve been rereading the sample. Can I have more of the Detective Void? Please?

I can post the first part right now! Message me when you want more and I'll post the next part! Word of warning, the story's not done yet. I'm working on it, but it might take a while.

TW: Mpreg, pregnancy, mild body horror (Body squick?).

You couldn’t pinpoint when exactly you stopped being a person. It was probably around the time you realized the dolls you made could come to life and you could turn anything to yarn just by stabbing it with a knitting needle. Frightened and excited at the impossible things happening, you’d hidden away any proof of it, and tried to work out the secrets of your gift yourself. You didn’t realize they’d put a target on your back and a timer above your head. It was only a matter of time before the Laboratory caught up with you.

You’d been captured by them eight years ago, given an experiment designation instead of your name and kept in captivity. It wasn’t till a fateful security breach that you’d managed to escape. After fighting your way out of their clutches, you’d gotten back to civilization and worked to rebuild your life. As much as you wanted to go back to being just another somebody, it wasn’t in the cards. You couldn’t rest knowing how much was out there, and how little was being done about it. So, you’d decided to use your powers to forge a new path for yourself.

And oh, how you charged down that path. You worked to contain anomalies and to ensure no one else suffered as you had. You willingly walked the razor’s edge, knowing that the next encounter could mean death. Or worse. You’d come to learn that there were far more terrifying fates than oblivion. All you could do was handle every day as it came, keep striving forward, and not look too closely at shadows.

Your job ended up taking you on a curious investigation. The cities of *Data Expunged* had been inundated by giant Stork sightings. That by itself would be unusual, but there was more to it than that. Little did any of the witnesses know that the creature was far more troublesome than an ordinary bird. The eight-foot-tall Stork visited men, seemingly at random and attacked them, leaving a puncture wound on their stomachs. Worse than the physical injury was what came after. The victim would then incubate and birth a baby Stork, all within the span of an hour or two.

So far, the creature’s victims had a 100% survival rate; rare enough in this brutal world, and safe enough to keep it a low priority of whatever shadowy government organization took care of such matters. You on the other hand, had plenty of time to send it back to whatever godforsaken part of the universe it came from.

You’d begun by helping the latest victim. An ordinary salary man, he’d been assaulted on his walk to work. You’d helped him through the uncomfortable pregnancy and agonizing birth and then shoved the chick in a cage to be collected by The Foundation. The man had asked only one thing of you once you’d helped him deliver the monstrous offspring.

“Make me forget.”

You’d been all too glad to administer some of your amnestic. It wasn’t much, but at least you could alleviate any lingering trauma. After that, you’d resolved to stop the creature before it struck again. What you hadn’t realized was that you weren’t the only one who’d made that resolution.

Among your many skills was your ability to produce useful anomalous objects. Your handsewn teddy bear for instance, acted as a bloodhound for sensing anomalous beings. You let it guide you through a row of unsold houses, into a backyard. There it pointed at the abandoned shed sitting in the right hand corner of the yard. Much to your surprise, it had indicated there was a second anomaly inside as well. You patted it on the head to thank it, then let it slip back into the oversized bag you carried.

You pulled the pair of your longest size ten needles out. Two anomalies in one place could mean they were coming to blows or that they were in cahoots. Whatever the case, you were prepared for a fight. You snuck up to the shed, careful not to alert them with a creak of the wooden ramp. You could already hear rustling and thumping emanating from the cracked door. No voices, at least, no human ones. You crouched by the door and took a peek inside. You were shocked by what you saw.

In the center of the room was the stork. Now that you saw it up close, it was nothing short of unnerving. At eight feet tall, it towered over you. As it turned, you saw its long pointed beak. Its pink and blue gradient wings might have been pretty under different circumstances. Right now, those wings fluttered indignantly, puffing up in a warning. Looking closer, you saw what it was angry about.

The stork was trapped where it stood; it was encircled by a ring of runes painted on the floor. You squinted against the unnatural light they produced. The creature thrashed and struck at the barrier they’d made, hissing like an angry Goose. Indifferent to its anger, its captor stood off to the side. He was a man in a button up shirt and black trousers. The only unusual part of his appearance was the dark gray mask with eye holes that glowed with the same energy as the runes.

As soon as you saw the mask, it clicked. It was none other than Detective Void. You’d heard through the grapevine that he was an investigator of the supernatural. Neither Foundation personnel nor Chaos Insurgent, he conducted his own work in secret, able to elude any interested parties. As relieved as you were to not find SCP agents, you couldn’t help but wonder if he intended to terminate the entity or use it for his own purposes.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a creaking noise. The Stork had begun pounding at the floor. It was slamming its feet onto the wood with surprising strength. Through the dust it’d kicked up, you realized the light of the runes had started flickering. Your heart sunk into your shoes as you realized what was going on. The shed’s floor was old and unstable. If it managed to put even a crack in one of the painted boards, it could break the circle and escape!

The detective seemed to have noticed too. He pulled a curved dagger out from behind his back and assumed a fighting stance. The bird seemed all too eager for a fight. It ran its long talons down the floor, a glint in its eyes. You had no choice but to throw your own hat in the ring. As the floorboard gave with a loud crack, you flung the door open.

Leaping forward, you sent your size tens flying into the air. The stork blocked with one massive wing, but couldn’t completely save itself. You succeeded in turning a few of the feathers. They unraveled, becoming strands of pastel yarn. It turned to glare at you, undoing your work with a flap of its wing. You’d gotten its attention. Good.

Pouncing on the creature, you conjured more needles, stabbing with impunity. The hissing grew louder as you unraveled more and more of it. You knew it could heal, but if you worked fast enough, you could turn all of it before it could fix itself. You worked to pin down its left wing, leaving one hand free to strike.

Detective Void had apparently had a similar idea. He slashed at the wing that reached for him, clipping it with a single swipe. He didn’t seem to notice you, so intent was he on finishing the job. The stork managed to buck you off, spinning to deliver a strong kick to your sternum. Taking a chance, Void flung the dagger, hitting the stork in the upper wing. It squawked indignantly. Even with its healing factor, he had still landed a critical hit. You conjured the largest needle you could and prepared to strike it right in the heart.

You crept a few inches closer and raised the needle above your head.

A screech like steel nails gouging a chalkboard filled the shed. You were knocked off balance, overcome by the urge to stuff your ears with cotton. Get out of my way, it said, don’t interfere with my mission.

A wing flew out and threw you against the wall. You hit hard enough to crack the wood paneling and landed in a heap. Dazed and bloodied, you tried to stand. You couldn’t quite gain your footing again and in the interim, it had begun to target Detective Void.

The blood dripping from your forehead had blinded one eye and the fear was starting to seep into your bones. The stork was stronger than you’d assumed. If the both of you couldn’t take it on…

No! You’d never let fear stop you before, and certainly not when someone’s life was in danger. You had to fight, lest it kill you both. More needles sailed across the shed, some making contact, some bouncing off the walls harmlessly. You realized with horror that neither of your efforts would be enough.

“Are you ok?” You heard a man’s voice. Detective Void had noticed you and was still parrying the monster’s attempts to grab him. He blocked the creature’s limbs, knocking them away with blow after blow. It had started ignoring you, bent on ensnaring its new quarry You saw a second hilt on his back, this one with the dagger still in it. He grabbed it and took another swipe at the wings. “Hang on, I’m going to-.”

Another scream ripped through the air. You cringed, covering your ears in a feeble attempt to block the sound. Your brain felt like it was going to leak out your nose. Oddly enough, it had a different effect on Detective Void. You wiped the blood from your eye and watched as his arms fell to his sides and he dropped his weapon. The stork encircled him with one wing, pulling him closer in a motion that was almost intimate.

Oh, no. It wasn’t trying to kill him; it had chosen him!

You lunged in one last desperate attempt to stop it-.

The room spun, sending you to the floor. The last thing you saw before you passed out was the oversized bird descending on the detective.

The smell of magic and musty wood brought you around and reminded you where you were. Frustration overcame you as you realized the creature had escaped. You cursed both your incompetence and the being’s skill. It had been a while since you’d had so much trouble. You’d known it was only a matter of time before you went up against something stronger than you, but you hadn’t expected it to be such a dismal failure. You touched the scrape on your forehead and a threaded sewing needle appeared, stitching up the wound before vanishing. After a few seconds the stitches disappeared, taking your injury with them. At least you healed fast. But could you say the same for him?

As you stood, you realized Detective Void still lay on the floor. He was on his back, head lolled to the side. His formally pristine shirt now had a large gash in it. The blood froze in your veins. You’d seen that same tear in the clothes of the entity’s last victim and you knew what it meant.

You hurried over, dreading what you would find, praying that you were wrong. Sure enough, as you brushed the shredded fabric aside you could see a large purple bruise and smaller puncture wound on the detective’s abdomen.

You fell back on your haunches and swore a blue streak as the implications of what had happened hit you. You conjured a needle and began scraping at the floor out of sheer frustration. As you left huge grooves in the wood, you berated yourself. You hadn’t even known anyone else was after this anomaly and you should have. Should have been sharper, more aware of your surroundings. If only you’d been able to stop it when you had the chance! You were getting sloppy, screwing up-.

If you weren’t more careful, they’d find you, they’d lock you up again...

You sent a needle flying toward the only other thing in the shed; the can of paint Void had used to make the entrapment circle. It pierced the can on impact, rendering it and its contents a tangle of yarn. You shut your eyes to block out the scene and touched the wood beneath you, working to ground yourself. Now that you’d blown off a little steam, it was easier to regain your focus. You’d been too late to assist him with the capture. You hadn’t been able to kill it. All you could do now was assist him with the birth. You just hoped he’d be willing to accept your help.

#text post #long post #Detective Void #fanfiction #Mpreg #pregnancy #supernatural pregnancy #squick #TW: Mpreg

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