#i found wonderful masterpieces too

[critterofthenight]

when you check out the fandom tag on ao3 and go "yo, what the fuck"

[kashverse]

can i request babykuna when she was still in the womb? like sukuna being all sweet and caring to reader when she’s pregnant and talking to her baby bump.

the day sukuna found out you were pregnant, he screamed. not in fear, not in shock—but in sheer, unfiltered, snotty-nosed joy. one moment, he was staring at the positive test in your hands. the next, he had his face buried in his monogrammed handkerchief, honking out the loudest, wettest happy sobs you’d ever heard.

you wondered if you had accidentally married a goose.

“oh my god,” you muttered, watching him go through all five stages of parenthood in under a minute. “we’re having a baby,” he sniffled, pulling you into his arms like he was never letting go. “holy fuck, we’re gonna be parents.”

“yeah, that’s kinda what happens when you—”

“shhh.” he dropped to his knees, pressing his ear to your stomach. “the baby’s listening.”

“… sukuna, i am barely six weeks. there's nothing to listen to.”

he ignored you, humming deeply like he was communicating with the soul of the unborn child. then, after a few moments of wise, fatherly contemplation, he sat up and clapped his hands.

“both of you need rest. now.”

“but i—”

“now.”

and thus began the nine-month saga of sukuna baby-proofing the entire planet.

he refused to let you lift a finger. not even a pinky.

“babe, can you—”

“no.”

“but i just—”

“no.”

you reached for a glass of water right in front of you. he intercepted. he became the ultimate husband, reading baby books, forcing you to take naps, buying enough pregnancy pillows to construct a small fortress. one day, you caught him in the study, wisely reading through the classics.

he squinted at the page, frowning. “… countenance.”

silence.

he flipped the page back. then forward. then he snorted.

“why the fuck does this word exist? just say ‘face,’ dumbass.”

he built two entire walk-in closets for babykuna. one for a boy. one for a girl. “you never know,” he said wisely, surveying his masterpiece.

“sukuna, it’s one baby.”

“you never know.”

it didn’t matter, though. he didn’t care about the gender. “as long as the kid’s happy and healthy,” he muttered one night, resting his hand over your belly, his voice soft, reverent. then, after a beat: 

“but if it’s a boy, i am not naming him after me. too much pressure.”

when the day finally came, and you held babykuna for the first time—her tiny fists curled, her chubby cheeks already resembling her father’s, her rebellious little tuft of hair standing up in defiance—sukuna knew he knew he was right where he was supposed to be.

"she looks like you," you whispered, exhausted but happy, brushing her soft little cheek. he snorted, reaching over to push a strand of hair from your face. "nah," he said, smirking, voice thick with emotion. "she's got your hair."

and for the first time in his life, sukuna felt complete.

[leftoverpages]

Loyalty’s embrace

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x betrothed!reader

Tags 𓅪 jealous and protective Benjicot, small fight scene (no gore), fluff at the end, romance, reader uses she/her but no physical description

Notes: i have been writing for a while without posting anything so this is making me nervous lmaooo

Wordcount 𓅪 1.3k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The grand ballroom of Blackwood Manor was awash with warm candlelight and the soft hum of conversation. The air was filled with the scent of roses and the clinking of crystal glasses. Lady Y/N stood at the edge of the room, a vision in her resplendent gown. Her dress, a masterpiece of crimson silk and midnight velvet, flowed around her like a river of fire and shadow. The bodice, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread, clung to her form, highlighting her grace and strength. Across her chest and shoulders, the Blackwood sigil was proudly displayed, a symbol of her new allegiance and her own fierce spirit.

The fabric shimmered in the candlelight, every movement sending ripples of light and shadow cascading over her. The skirt, full and layered, swirled around her feet like a tempest, the deep red contrasting beautifully with the inky black. A delicate gold chain rested at her throat, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her neck.

She stood there as her betrothed, Benjicot Blackwood, engaged in conversation with several lords and ladies. She found herself alone for the moment, sipping a glass of champagne and watching the festivities from afar.

Despite the grandeur, there was a nervous flutter in her stomach. Being betrothed to Benjicot, the fierce and enigmatic heir of House Blackwood, was both an honor and a daunting reality. Their engagement was more strategic than romantic, a union meant to strengthen alliances and secure power. Still, she had hoped to find some genuine connection with him, something to hold onto amidst the political machinations.

"Lady Y/N, you look ravishing tonight," a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Lord Cedric, a notorious flirt and known for his less-than-honorable intentions, standing far too close for comfort.

"Thank you, Lord Cedric," she replied, forcing a polite smile and taking a small step back.

He didn’t seem to notice—or care. "It's a shame you're tied down to Blackwood. A beauty like you deserves better," he said, his eyes raking all over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

"I am perfectly content with my betrothal, Lord Cedric," she replied firmly, trying to edge away. But Cedric persisted, moving closer, his hand reaching to touch her arm.

"Come now, Y/N, you can’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like to be with someone else," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Before she could respond, a strong hand gripped Cedric's wrist, pulling him away from her. "I believe the lady has made herself clear," Benjicot’s voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes blazing with anger.

Cedric paled but tried to maintain his bravado. "I meant no harm, Blackwood. Just a bit of fun," he stammered, taking a step back.

Benjicot stepped between Cedric and Y/N, his posture tense and protective. "Your idea of fun is clearly misguided," he said coldly. "If I ever see you bothering her again, I will not be so forgiving."

Cedric sneered, his fear giving way to indignation. "And what will you do, Blackwood, uh? Throw me out of your pretty little ball?"

A dangerous glint appeared in Benjicot’s eyes. "No, Cedric. I’ll do much worse."

Before Cedric could react, Benjicot’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. The ballroom fell silent, guests suddenly turning to witness the confrontation. Cedric, recovering from the initial shock, lunged at Benjicot with a roar, swinging wildly.

Benjicot dodged, his movements controlled and precise. He landed another punch to Cedric's midsection, doubling him over. "You don’t know to quit, do you?" Benjicot muttered, grabbing Cedric by the collar and lifting him to his feet.

"Enough!" Cedric spat, struggling against Benjicot’s grip. "You think you can control everything? Even her?"

Benjicot’s eyes darkened further. "I don’t need to control her, Cedric. I trust her. Something you clearly don’t understand."

With that, Benjicot shoved Cedric away, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Cedric, breathing heavily and bruised, glared up at him. "This isn’t over, Blackwood."

"It is," Benjicot replied coldly. "And if you value your life, you’ll stay away from her."

Guards approached then, at Benjicot’s silent command, hauling Cedric to his feet and escorting him out of the ballroom. The guests slowly resumed their conversations, the tension dissipating, but whispers of the altercation lingered.

Benjicot turned to Y/N, his expression softening as he reached out to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, but her composure faltered, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you, Ben. I didn’t know what to do..."

He stepped closer, his hand tenderly cupping her cheek. "You never have to face such things alone. Not while I'm here."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. Instead, she found a depth of concern and protectiveness that took her by surprise. She had always seen him as distant, a warrior hardened by duty, but now she glimpsed the man beneath the armor.

"Why do you care?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Benjicot sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know our betrothal was arranged, but that doesn't mean I don't care for your well-being. I've come to admire your strength and grace, Y/N. I want us to be more than just a political alliance."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She had longed for some indication that he felt more than obligation towards her. "I want that too, Ben," she whispered.

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Then let's make it so," he said, taking her hand in his. "Together."

As they stood there, hand in hand amidst the glittering ballroom, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her.

Benjicot glanced around the room, the tension in his shoulders easing. He looked back at Y/N, his eyes filled with a tender resolve. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Y/N felt her breath catch. She nodded, unable to speak, and he led her to the center of the ballroom. The musicians, sensing the moment, began to play a slow, melodic waltz.

As they took their positions, Benjicot's arm encircled her waist, his hand warm and steady. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he guided her with a grace that belied his warrior's demeanor. They began to move, their steps perfectly in sync, the world around them fading into a blur of light and sound.

The music swirled around them, a symphony of emotions. They glided across the floor, each step a silent conversation. Y/N felt as if they were floating, the dance a magical respite from the political intrigue and uncertainty that had shadowed their engagement.

Benjicot's eyes never left hers, their dark depths reflecting a myriad of emotions. In that moment, she felt a warmth spread through her chest, a burgeoning hope that perhaps their union could be more than just a strategic alliance.

The music swelled, and Benjicot spun her gracefully, her dress flaring out like a crimson and black flower. When they came back together, he held her a little closer, his gaze softening even further.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to be more than a political alliance. I want to know you, Y/N. To truly understand you."

She smiled, her heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "And I want to know you, Ben."

As the final notes of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, they came to a gentle stop. The guests around them erupted into applause, but Y/N and Benjicot remained in their own world, their gazes locked.

"Thank you for the dance," Y/N said softly.

Benjicot brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure was mine," he replied.

In that moment, surrounded by the approving smiles of their peers, Y/N felt something shift. The alliance they had been forced into was beginning to transform into something real, something hopeful.

The future was uncertain, but for the first time, she felt truly seen and protected. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could find love in each other’s arms.

[nationalanthcm]

Gold rush | Robb Stark

𝜗𝜚 "what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your hair falling into place like dominoes"

summary: robb loves spending his time simply admiring his wife. he just loves her so much, he can't help it. and now that she's pregnant with their firstborn...he wishes he could spend every second of his days with her

pairing: robb stark x pregnant!wife!reader

genre: fluff

side notes: english is not my native language, so i apologise in advance for any grammatical/spelling mistakes. if you find any error, feel free to correct me as long as you keep it respectful of course. this is my ever first piece of writing, so don't expect it to be a masterpiece lmao

"i see me padding 'cross your wooden floors, with my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door" 𝜗𝜚

The bright afternoon sunlight entered the room through the windows, bathing her in a soft, incandescent glow, making her almost like an angel designed by the Gods themselves. Robb has been standing there for quite a while, leaning against the doorway, simply staring at her as she read on the bed the two of them share.

This is something he often does, he usually finds himself admiring his wife from afar, simply staring at her as he wonders how she could be so beautiful, not only on the outside, but on the inside as well, and how he could've gotten so lucky that her heart chose to love him back.

Robb had known the woman that would eventually become his wife since he was young, he was about twelve when his eyes first laid on her. She had been padding around Winterfell, just outside the castle walls, her hands holding some sort of flower bouquet. It looked messy, and so did she, her dress was dirty with mud and her hair was a bit tangled, but he had been captivated by her nonetheless. He remembers that day as if it was yesterday, he remembers the way her cheeks got tinted with the lightest shade of pink when he spoke to her...he remembers it all as if it had been just yesterday. They both cherish that day a lot and often look back to it, as it was the day where their story started.

His wife's gentle voice snaps Robb out of his thoughts and his eyes refocus on her shape. She's staring at him, her book placed beside her, one of her hands pressed on the tiny bump in her belly. Robb can't help but smile at the sight. Gods, she really is beautiful. How could she be this beautiful? Robb really believes he could spend the rest of his day standing there, simply admiring the way she looks, even more so now that, on her belly, rests their firstborn, Robb's future heir. He also remembers the day she told him the news very clearly. He had been over the moon to find out they were expecting a baby.

"Forgive me, my love, I didn't notice you. How long have you been standing there? Not for too long, I hope." She says, sounding a little apologetic.

Robb's already walking up to the bed, settling down beside her, his body facing hers. Now that she's noticed him, he doesn't have to stand so far away, he can enjoy her presence from up close. He loves these moments before dinner, where he can relax after a long day of duties, simply enjoying the company of the woman he loves.

"Don't worry, beautiful, it hasn't been long and I was enjoying the sight of you as always." He answers, his tone equally soft, one of his large hands going to rest on top of her belly.

The girl only laughs quietly at his words, her head coming to rest on Robb's shoulder. She's aware of how much he likes to simply stare at her. She lost count of how many times she found her husband entranced by the sight of her, quietly watching her in the privacy of their chambers.

"How are you today? Has the little one been bothering you much?" Robb asks her after a beat of silence.

His wife can only smile at that, tilting her head to look up at him. She finds it endearing how he worries so much for her well being. She's only three months along in the pregnancy, the babe doesn't even move yet, but Robb always asks about her comfort, wanting to make sure she's as well as possible. They've both always been like that...always checking in on each other, making sure the other was okay, even back when they were younger and only shared a sweet, innocent friendship.

"I'm alright, my love, nothing's been too uncomfortable for now. I think it's far too early for that...my baby bump is barely even showing." She reassures, looking down at her belly.

Her baby bump is in fact barely noticeable, but it's there. Robb loves it, he loves to see the way her body is slowly changing, adapting to the small life that's growing inside. He didn't think it possible, but Robb finds himself loving her even more, because now she's not only his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"That's good, our little one is well behaved, doesn't make his mother suffer." Robb says jokingly, laughing quietly at his own joke. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

Robb knows it's still too early to know that for certain the gender of the babe, but he finds himself wondering about that often and he's sure his wife does too. The maester says they'll be able to find out the gender soon enough.

"I don't know, I honestly have no idea. My mother says that some women have some sort of instinct but...I have no idea. I'm hoping it's a girl, though."

"A girl?" Robb wonders. When he wonders about it, Robb finds himself secretly wishing for a boy, but he'd also be fine with the babe being a little girl, of course. He just wants the pregnancy to go smoothly and for the babe to be healthy.

"Yes, just think about it...I'd be able to dress her up in the prettiest gowns, braid her hair..." His wife rambles, her voice filled with affection.

Robb can picture her words clearly in his mind. It's an endearing thought...to picture his wife tending to their young daughter. That thought alone almost makes him change his mind fully and solely wish for a girl.

"...I'd also be fine with a boy, of course...though I suppose he'd spend more time with you, training with swords and all..." She continues.

That brings a smile to Robb's face. He'd love that, to have a son to spend time with, to train him and teach him everything his own father taught him.

"What about you? Boy or girl?" His wife asks him, now staring up at him again.

"I'm fine with either of the two, but I've been hoping it's a boy."

She hums in acknowledgment to his words, her body resting against his. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of them and she picks up her book. Reading has always been her favourite thing to do, according to her own words. Robb goes back to doing one of his favourite things as well. He admires her quietly, watching the way her brows furrow in concentration. Once again, he finds himself thanking the Gods for sending him such a blessing. He has a beautiful, gentle wife and a child on the way...life couldn't be sweeter.

[banzonism]

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.

[vegan-peppermint]

Your Boyfriend's Bed

Pairing: Hoodie x Masky'sGF!Reader

Fandom: Marble Hornets

Genre: Smut MDNI

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Cheating, creampie, rough sx, P in V

Summary: Your boyfriend is a B, but his best friend's there to take your side.

Part 2 here

Author's Note: After a three-year hiatus, I finally found the inspiration to write again—thanks to this incredible fanfiction. It sparked something in me. I can’t recommend it enough, so please show the creator some love. Their work is the reason I’m writing again after all this time. This fic is inspired by their masterpiece, so I highly encourage you to check it out first!

________________________________

More often than not, you were a collateral victim in your boyfriend and his friend’s fights. Tim and Brian were too close for your liking, they had a great co-dependency going on way before you came in the picture. If Brain was in a bad mood, so was Tim. If you got in a fight with Tim, Brian was giving you the silent treatment as well as taking sides without hesitation.

It was more than you bargained for, not realising getting Tim as a boyfriend meant taking responsibility for his grown-ass best friend as well. But you managed. With each month that passed in your relationship it was getting easier for you, to the point it was almost natural to consider them both in every action you took. 

Weirdly enough, you so much preferred for them to be mad at you instead of at each other. Whenever their balance wavered they started acting batshit crazy. Tim confessed some details about their ‘alternative’ life after- what, a year in you relationship? 

You didn’t fully grasp what he meant by their “alter egos” or their nighttime escapades, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to. You had your suspicions, of course. You weren’t blind. But as long as they didn’t outright spell it out for you, you could continue living in blissful ignorance. It was easier that way, and you convinced yourself that you were okay with it.

But today—today was different. Today, things had escalated to an entirely new level.

Tim was screaming at Brian, who was cloaked in that damned creepy hood that made him look so unsettling. Tim's anger seemed to grow by the second, and when “Hoodie” (as you suppose you should call him now) refused to react, it only fueled Tim’s rage.

You tried to calm him down, talk to him or something- anything.

A strained, guttural laugh escaped Tim, trembling with anger. He started explining to you how you do not even begin to understand what has happened, how you should just shut up and not get involved- his voice full with disdain, every sentence designed to belittle and assert his supposed superiority. 

Now you are not the one to get angry easily, but this time- this time something in you snapped. You were done being talked down to, done being made feel small or pathetic for just wanting some peace.

“No wonder he would not bother to have your back when you act like such a prick.”

“Oh, just shut up you bit-,” his words faltered as he caught himself mid-sentence, swallowing the insult faster than a politician trying to cover his tracks.

You cannot recreate what was spoken after that word for word, just that all hell broke loose. It was no longer a fight between Tim and Brian- no, it wasn’t just them anymore. It was you and Hoodie against Tim. You were screaming and throwing your every angry complaint you had been holding in for far too long. And Hoodie- Hoodie of all people- was backing your every word, every statement. However, Hoodie’s remark is what really sealed and shipped Tim’s whole spirit.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl so frustrated with her boyfriend in my life, Masky. Can only imagine you’re lacking in some aspects.”

The words hit harder than anything you had said. They were cold, calculated, and aimed straight at the core of Tim’s pride. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, Tim stood there, trembling with the weight of the accusation. His face twisted in disbelief, but the damage had already been done.

What followed between the two of them was pure madness. Shouting, shoving, items flying off shelves—everything seemed to spin out of control. Pushing, pulling, voices rising higher and higher, until the tension reached a breaking point. Tim’s eyes flickered with something darker, something unstable, before he turned to grab his mask and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it shook the walls.

Well, this has happened this morning. You realise you could’ve done things differently, not taking sides or waiting for their fight to end before starting your own. That was your mistake. But leaving you hurt and angry with only Hoodie to comfort you was his.

________________________________

You were on all fours on your boyfriends bed, face buried in his pillows. Hoodie’s gloved hand pushed down on your back arching it more- your ass rising higher. 

Your clothes were littering the floor from the doorway to the edge of the bed, the cold air tickling your bare skin. Your eyes landed on the wardrobe’s mirror showing your helpless reflection with Hoodie’s tall frame behind you. He was completely dressed from his boots to the black mask that covered his face- he was glacial. 

His left hand- formerly on your back-  grabbed your hip harshly. He dragged the other painfully slow across your side- from ass, to waist and finally around your breast. You whimpered at the harsh feeling of his gloves palming your tits. 

“So sensitive…” he sighed. The nub was hardening against his touch making it easier for him to pinch or gently twist your nipple. 

You inhaled sharply trying to steady yourself but being met with Tim’s smell wasn’t helping. “H-Hodie...” you whined. 

His hands left your body and you heard his pants zipper opening. You tried to push yourself on your forearms, an instinct to turn around and see what you were dealing with, but before you could make a move a firm grip grabbed at the back of your neck. The sharp tug sent shivers down your spine as Hoodie yanked your head back. With a swift flick of his wrist, he let go of your nape only to have his fingers dart into your hair. His grip was certain and precise. “You’re way to eager to get on another man’s cock.” Your face was shoved once again back into the mattress. 

He was watching you excitedly as he brushed his tip across your folds- a groan escaping his lips when he felt how wet you already were. There was something primal about knowing you belonged to someone else yet he got to claim you as his right now. 

“Be quiet now,” he instructed sliding his cock inside you. You tried your best, you swore you did but he was so- big. Your eyes rolled upwards and your fingers gripped tightly at the sheets as you tried your best not to scream. His cock pressed deeper and deeper inside your cunt, stretching you in ways you did not even imagine possible. “You moan like a whore,” he growled with a final push. You felt your face blushing in shame- he talked to you in ways you would've never allowed your boyfriend, but on his lips those words felt so natural; almost like praises.

“Shh, shh,” he murmured, the sound gentle but insistent. You were already panting and crying just by the size of him. He gave you a moment to adjust to him being balls deep inside your aching cunt but your whines wouldn’t stop. He leaned over you, the rough material of his clothes scratching your soft skin. His hand reached to the side of your face, you thought he wanted to wipe away the tears that were sliding down your cheeks. He chuckled, his hand covering your mouth instead. “I’m gonna fuck you senseless, sweetheart.” 

________________________________

“Fuck, fuck- fuck! Feels so- Agh!~” 

You were screaming so fucking loudly. Your head was bumping to the ruthless rhythm of Hoodie’s thrusts. His fingers left red marks all over your ass, your hips- he was tugging at your body merciless, squeezing and scratching every inch of skin he could find. 

With trembling hands you tried your best to hold onto the bed frame as Hoodie was rutting into you from behind. His balls were hitting your swollen clit so hard- again and again and- “Am so close- so close, so close!”  Jaw was hanging open, you were gasping for air. 

“Fucking whore,” Hoodie sighed grabbing your neck with one hand, the other searching for your open mouth. “Bet he never fucked you this good, eh?” He gave a sinister chuckle as he shoved his fingers down your throat. You followed his cruel pull falling back on his torso. He was squeezing at the sides of you neck reminding you how little and vulnerable you are right now, “You only breath right now- scream and cry- you only feel this good because I allow you to.”

You whine taking him even deeper, his cock slaming your walls faster. His fingers explored your mouth pressing down your tongue, his grip thightend. 

“I could snap your neck right now, you know?”

You cry out loud in desperation, surrenedring control to him completely. Your eyes shut in anticipation, every muscle in you tightens-

“Say who you really belong to, who fucks you like a bitch in heat,” he snarls. “Say my name.”

And you do. Over and over again you do as your gummy walls squeeze around his length unbearably thight, waves of pleasure wash all over you. Hoodie’s hands allow you to gasp for air just for a second as they move under your arms grabbing you by the shoulders. His sudden body weight pushed you on your belly, fucking you deeper into the matress. His thrusts grow sloppy and desparate with no regard towards you- he was fucking you like a fleshlight.

“I’ll pump you so full of cum, MY cum-” Muffled sounds rose from deep in his chest, you were able to hear his clenched teeth through the sharp breaths he took. “Breed you so good you’ll be ruined- Fuck-” he whimpered. “Ruined for Tim,” his thrusts are brutal and harsh and- so goddamn overwhelming. 

His cum shots in hot strings, his member twitching inside your ruined cunt. His hands pull you closer and hips push further trying to get as deep as possible- deeper than Tim at least. 

You felt bad for comparing but the way he feels on top of you, in you- he fucked you in ways your boyfriend never could. When you tried to shift he grabbed a fistful of your hair forcing your head back. With lazy motions he started fucking his cum deeper.

“I didn’t tell you you could fucking move yet.”

//

This is my first fic since, what- 2021? Wow. Crazy.

I'll keep on writing my usual content as well, but creepypastas and gore-y stuff has always been something I wanted to write but never felt confident enough before. Anyways, feel free to request or send me any message, I came back from my hiatus! Never thought I'd say that lol.

[grimmweepers]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄: OCT 3RD

— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yandere!dottore x assistant!fem reader

— ♤ 𝐜𝐰: obsessive yandere behaviour, emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, stalking, build up to smut is longish sorry, reader is gullible, dubcon, no preparation, pussy slapping (once), he calls you sweetheart, pet, pup, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, power imbalance, biting, 3.5k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It started with curiosity.

Maybe it was the softness in your voice as you confidently sat in his office, explaining why you would be perfect for the job, or perhaps the way you held onto the belief that he was a good person. But once Dottore saw how much you lit up when he offered you a position on the spot, he knew right then he needed to keep you close. 

This new revelation almost terrified him. 

Your voice was so innocent, clinging to him like honeysuckle, and that warmth behind your smile—it was too pure, too untainted. It had to be locked away before the world could tarnish it.

If you had paid attention, you would’ve noticed how his gaze lingered a little too long when you spoke; how his questions would dive deeper the more you got to know him.

You were ignorant of how much Dottore had deeply ingrained himself into every facet of your life, playing the role of the emotionally distant boss who eventually found comfort in your company. He saw that flicker of trust in your eyes and allowed you to believe you were the only person who could see the real him: the man behind the mask who bled his heart and soul to you when nobody else was looking.

Everything was calculated. Subtle. You had become his latest obsession—a sweet, little experiment where the only result he deemed acceptable would be having you wrapped around his finger. So he made sure he was the first you turned to when things went wrong, planting seeds of doubts about everyone you knew. 

“Forgive me but your friends don’t seem to understand you.”

At first, you dismissed his comments but over time his critiques took root. You saw flaws in people that seemingly weren’t there before which made you wonder if it was truly only Dottore who had your best interest at heart. Gradually, you began to rely on him as your only confidant. Your rock. But it didn’t stop at just your relationships. Dottore had inserted himself into your daily routine, providing solutions for problems you hadn’t realised he created. After minor inconveniences and projects falling through, he was always there to pick up the pieces.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

And every time he did, you felt more indebted to him.

Dottore strung you along for years, feeding you enough affection to have you tethered with him while subtly isolating you from others. And when he finally made you his girlfriend, it was less a declaration of love and more of a confirmation of his control over you.

But you didn’t need to know that. 

You are his precious masterpiece, sculpted into the ideal partner, no longer the person you once were but a reflection of his twisted desires. 

When calling him “Doctor” transitioned from a professional title to something you moaned whenever he plowed you with his cock, it was difficult for him not to start touching himself at random hours of the day. 

Fortunately for him, he could simply just find you while you were working and suddenly, there was something hard pressed against your ass! It always satisfied him a great deal knowing how willing you were to please him, no matter the time of day.  

Sometimes he pitied you for never catching on so the first time you went astray, he was somewhat glad that his little darling wasn’t so dense.

“Dottore, I’m finding it difficult to get through to you. I feel suffocated. I’m worried about us.”

He glanced up from his notebook, almost affectionately, “You’re overthinking it, my dear.”

“I think we need some time apart," your words tasted bitter. "I just… need to clear my head. I’m sorry,” you felt guilty for even suggesting it.

“Time apart?” he repeated with a false frown, dropping his book to look at you wholly. “For how long?’

“I’m not sure.”

A tense silence hung between you, and you tried to steady your breath.

“Darling, you’re not making any sense,” he blinked.

“It makes sense to me,” you protested, “I wasn’t asking.”

Truth be told, he was more amused than angered. Although, he wondered what it was that finally provoked your sudden notion. Sure, disagreements were more frequent but it had been so long since this all began. He thought his tactics would be something you were used to by now. Perhaps you were starting to see everything for what it truly was.

Perhaps not.

Your voice was trembling but you were firm in your resolve. Dottore liked that you thought you had a choice, so he entertained you by letting the last of his smile fade from his lips, eyes narrowing in your direction. 

“So a break, then? If you think that will benefit us, I understand. But I’m not a mind reader. If something bothers you, you have to tell me, okay?”

His words seemed to melt some of your worries away so you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Could you really doubt someone so patient, so willing to give you space when you needed it? 

“Really?”

“Of course," the lie effortlessly slipped between his teeth, "I respect your boundaries."

You nodded as you squeezed his hand and before you could turn away, his grip tightened. “Before you go, let me remind you that I love you, so very much.” 

And without warning, he kissed you. It was lingering, with no remorse, disguised as a parting gift—as if to say he knew you’d be back.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you said, feeling conflicted. 

“Doing what?” He questioned.

Dottore knew exactly what he was doing. 

———

Weeks had passed but your time away from him was restless. Days felt semi-wakeful and what emerged was not clarity but the creeping sense that the world was conspiring against you.

It was like your life had taken an irreparable turn. Work became a constant setback, and friends you thought you had made you feel isolated and adrift. Even your home, which once felt cozy and safe, was starting to feel clinical and cold. 

And who would be the one to orchestrate your misery other than the Doctor himself? That vendor who suddenly couldn’t get your orders right? A bribe from Dottore. The neighbours who started fighting at all hours? A couple he had manipulated into conflict. Even your small office, a place that once made you feel so productive, now felt claustrophobic and stifling thanks to subtle changes he made while you were away.

Each of these inconveniences wore you down, making you long for the comfort and stability that only Dottore had ever provided. 

So when you received a short and carefully worded letter from him, asking how you were, you felt a surge of relief. You didn’t hesitate to see him that very evening, desperate to talk in person.

Before you knew it, you were falling right into his hands.

On your feet, you headed straight to the entrance of his lab and stared at the door before you gave a knock.

“Come in,” he said from inside.

The moment you saw him, he greeted you with that charming smile, and suddenly all the frustration from the past weeks melted away. You rushed into his arms, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you.”

He held you close, stroking the back of your head with practiced gentleness, “Ah! You’re finally back. I can’t say I’ve been happy without you.” 

If he was beaming out of satisfaction, you were blind to it. You were too distracted by the need to hear him say it back, to say that he missed you. But instead of the words you longed to hear, he merely held you tighter.

Looking up at him, your eyes searched for reassurance, “Did you miss me?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss on your forehead, “Of course.”

“Everything’s been so hard,” tears began to well up, “I can’t believe I distanced myself when I needed you the most.” 

He was always enthralled whenever he was right.

“Let’s not dwell on that, shall we? I’m here now so don’t fret.”

His words felt like a balm to your wounded soul and you clutched onto his coat as if he might vanish if you let go. You could not refuse him and he wouldn’t allow that option to exist. Dottore watched you, elated with himself, “Come,” he said, taking your hand towards his familiar private quarters, “I have something for you.” 

After closing the door behind him, his gaze remained on you, “I was hoping you would see me sooner rather than later,” he started, guiding you to the couch where the two of you sat. “We have much to catch up on.”

Dottore wore his grief convincingly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate crystal necklace that flickered like ice in the light, “I don’t want to lose you again.” Your heart skipped a beat as he put it on for you, the weight of it cold against your skin. When you relaxed your guard, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I can’t lose you. I won’t.” 

You thanked him for the gift but felt him craning your head to the side.

“It’s ice quartz," he purred, "For the pure love I have for you. For the healing that I hope it brings to your troubled heart. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause, a thoughtful stillness, and without another word, he kissed the exposed skin of your neck as if you beckoned him to. 

His lips were impossible to resist, each kiss slowly claiming you as he trailed his way to your mouth. You allowed your hands to explore his hair, messing up the neatness that once was.

Dottore wasted no time, the moment his lips met yours, you felt his hungry tongue and how it tasted of false apologies and something sickeningly sweet. He kissed you like he was starved—like he'd wanted his mouth on yours for weeks.

"Do you still—" he lightly pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, "—feel suffocated?"

Yes, you wanted to say. But for an entirely different reason now. This type of suffocation made your head spin and left something tingling between your legs.

"No," you finally answered against him. A string of saliva connected the small space between your lips. You relaxed under him and he took it as a chance to shuffle himself between your thighs.

"Hmm, I'm glad," he smirked before forcing another kiss out of you. Between gasps for air, his impatient hands found the hem of your blouse, unbuttoning it as he pushed you on your back. You pulled him down with you because you refused to part from the sinful way his lips collided with yours.

Piece by piece, layers of clothes began to disappear until you were left with nothing except the necklace he had given you. 

Spread out like this, you were ravishing, like a fine piece of art and the sight of you went straight to his cock. It throbbed in his slacks and you could hear his breathing growing uneven. At that moment, he could’ve taken you like an animal but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Mmh!” you moaned in surprise as he cupped your breast, fondling your sensitive nipples and practically anywhere else that was available to him. He was so precise in everything he did, it was no wonder he was in his profession. 

The time you spent apart had left you already aching for him so when he dipped his fingers between your quivering thighs, he felt your arousal. You were hot and puffy and embarrassingly wet.

Dottore began to toy with your clit and it pulsed under the pads of his fingers. You moaned instantly. But he was excruciatingly light with his touch which only made you desperate for more friction. You whined and even though the sound of it made his heart beat quickly, his face was unreadable.

“Patience,” he urged. Dottore waited for you for weeks and you had the nerve to whine? At the very least you could have made up for the time you robbed from him. 

You intended to listen. You really did! But when his fingers teased the entrance of your hole, your body acted before you could think and suddenly, your hips rolled towards him. He had barely even touched you before he stopped. 

Tsk, you heard from him, clearly disappointed by your lack of control.

Instead of continuing, he gave your pussy a sudden slap which left you whimpering. 

“Why—!” You trembled, feeling its stinging aftermath.

Why?

Simply put, he decided he wasn’t going to bother with what you wanted. 

In exchange for running away from him, he would show you that not everything was served on a silver platter. Seeing you go from distressed to dependent on him only excited him more. No one riles him up in the way that you do so he couldn’t bear to wait a second longer. 

“Stay like this,” there was something deranged about the smile that appeared on his face. The clinical white glow of his quarters dulled his pale skin yet his teeth glistened through his lips. You felt a chill and it wasn't because of the cold air.

He pulled away and you were immediately drawn to the tight bulge pressing against his pants. Dottore noticed. He knew you were watching.

"Now open your legs for me," he said, breaking you out of your daze. You shifted pathetically under him so it was ultimately his large hand, splayed across your thigh that held you in place. You saw his erection twitch when his eyes fell on your hole, drenched for him and all.

After quickly undoing his trousers, he pushed his throbbing length inside you in one, deep stroke. Your hands curled into the cushions and you were prepared to scream—

"Perfect," he breathed. You didn't need proper preparation. He knew your body better than you did.  

Your voice was lodged in your throat as his girth stretched you apart and Dottore couldn’t help throwing his head back, curses falling from his lips at how well you hugged him. You were so beautiful like this. He couldn’t wait to fuck you back into obedience. It was your fault for being this way, really. You were just so malleable, so easy.

“Ah, look at you. So wet already, my little pup. Did you miss me that much?” 

“Yes, I did. Yes, I did, Doctor!” you whimpered, and he began thrusting as if rewarding you for your response. His hips slammed mercilessly into yours at an unexpected pace, and you couldn’t even think about any of your frustrations anymore. Each time he slid in and out was like erasing all the concerns you had before this. 

“Dottore,” he corrected you. “You call me by my name today.” There was a slight strain in his voice as he fucked you but that was better than what was going on with you. With each thrust bucking into your sweet spot, you could hardly talk. 

The coat on his back ruffled behind him with each erratic movement. It was almost humiliating how he remained entirely clothed as he rammed into you. Your bare skin was on display yet not so much as a zipper and his disheveled hair was out of place for him.

Maybe he was too eager, you thought. Or maybe it was because he wouldn’t strip himself for the likes of you. Not when he was trying to remind you that being with him was a luxury. What he needed to etch into your subconscious was: 

You could get whatever you want as long as you stay and listen. 

Huffing at the sensation of being balls deep inside your pussy, he held you with a bruising grip on your waist, fucking you in a way that had you drooling. You were trying to remember a time when he wasn’t the one making you happy or giving you pleasure—but you couldn’t. Because it didn’t exist. 

“Dott…ore,” you called breathlessly, your voice mixing with the sound of your necklace clinking against your chest. He knew you very well, you had more to say than just the spilling of his name. He could see it in your damn eyes. 

Lowering himself to your neck, he rutted you even further into the couch, “What is it, my dear?” He asked, biting into you, feeling his hot and heavy breath fanning your skin. You yelped as his teeth clenched, knowing there was going to be a mark later. 

“I… love… you…” The words came out in a broken whisper, the sincerity of your confession made his cock twitch inside of you, precum already painting the insides of your hole. 

His tongue began to trace a slow and deliberate path from your neck to your ear, keeping his relentless rhythm as he did. “Is that right?” There was a cruel edge to his voice when he spoke. And you nodded back at him, feebly. Truthfully. 

“Then act like it,” he hissed, grip tightening as he thrusted sharply.

You shuddered underneath him—out of fear or pleasure, you weren’t sure but you knew you didn’t want it to end. You pulled him closer, winding your hands around his neck while he was deep inside you. “I’m— sorry!” you moaned, an apology slipping out in a haze. 

He almost growled at the sensation of you trembling around him, his crimson eyes searing into you, “No, it’s not your fault. I should have paid better attention to you.”

Another lie but exactly what you needed to hear to keep you going.

Lewd squelching sounds filled the room as he reduced you to a filthy mess. Even in your years of being with him, you had never seen him so untamed. Your juices were getting all over his trousers and if you knew any better, you would've seen how he got off on that.

You had almost forgotten where you were, though, at that point, you didn’t care about whether anybody else in the building heard. He fucked you hard and desperately, whatever he needed to do to keep his darling at bay, and you shamelessly cried out his name over and again. It was adorable.

“Dottore… I’m close—! Fuck. Fuck!” You swallowed your words as he pounded you. 

"Dirty mouth," he grunted, "Who taught you how to speak like that?"

He hovered above you, so close you could almost feel his hair tickling your face. "Nobody," you moaned quietly this time, feeling ashamed.

Every veiny inch of him was inside you and the more you felt of it, the less you thought. You just wanted to snap, to cum on him while he drove into you.

“Oh my, you're getting tighter,” he cooed, his voice deceptively gentle as he neared his own release. “Feeling good, sweetheart? Finish with me then…” 

Fortunately—or unfortunately, his pace became rougher, like a repeated reminder of who he was to you and his hand traveled to your jaw, tipping your head to meet his gaze. Amid your bodies thrashing, he could barely keep up with his own voice,

“No one will ever love you like me

or care about you like me

or fuck you like me. Do you understand, pet?” 

“Yes—! Yes, I do,” you panted as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips further into your sloppy cunt. In your lust-clouded daze, you were too weak to register the weight of his words. His sultry voice did a great job at masking the fact that he meant every single thing he said. 

Dottore’s face twisted into a more sadistic smile, letting his thoughts get the best of him. He relished in how little and helpless you sounded, how utterly pliant you were to his will. Everything felt right again and you were back to where he had woven you. With a final, brutal snap of his hips, he spilled his seed inside you, locking himself against you. 

You arched your back as your orgasm crashed simultaneously—you moaned collectively, and your walls pulsed around his cock like you were milking every drop he’s got. His hips stuttered, not giving a damn about the way your nails bit into his skin. Instead, he slammed his lips onto yours, devouring you in a messy, filthy kiss—a perfect match for the way he had just fucked you senseless.

Still panting, he clutched the side of your face, only gentler now. His thumb stroked your cheek as if savouring the moment of seeing you act the way you should.

“I love you,” he hummed, the words slipped from his lips like it was so natural to him. "I love you."

Of course, he loved you. Everything he has done for you was for himself. Everything has been catered to him. 

His sweat-speckled forehead shimmered in the dim light and as you looked up at him, your heart softened. The weight of him on top of you and the comfort in his embrace made you forget everything, lulling you into a peaceful state. 

You sighed, feeling a bit foolish for even creating a wall between you. In front of you, he seemed so fragile, like you were the only thing holding him together. How could you have thought he was anything but honest with you all along?

Now, everything felt perfect—perfect in a way that left no room for anything else. 

No room for doubt or escape.

a/n: imagine at the end of this you think it's over and suddenly his segments walk in

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers by @/astrumaur

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

Based on Oliver mentioning Buck and Jee baking together in an upcoming ep.

(I wrote this on my phone so it's not the greatest)

now also on AO3

---

"Is it someone's birthday?" Maddie asked, running through all of their friends and relatives in her mind, trying to figure out if she forgot a birthday.

"No." Buck shook his head and kept pulling ingredients out of the fridge and his kitchen cabinets.

"Ok... What's the occasion then?" she asked when he didn't elaborate.

"It's for Tommy. "

"Oh, is it his birthday?"

"No, not for a few weeks."

"Right. So this is a practice run?"

"What? No. I found the recipe online, but it's easy enough."

"Ok..."

"He likes cake."

"Ok."

Buck sighed and rolled his eyes at his sister before glancing up in the direction of the loft's bedroom.

"He's had a rough couple of days. He had to make an emergency landing because of bad weather yesterday and the ambulance couldn't get to them fast enough and they lost the patient."

"That was him? Josh took that call and he was exhausted from stress by the end of shift."

Buck nodded.

"Tommy too. And he was hurting all over last night. He never takes any pain medication but he took two ibuprofen and a hot shower and crashed into bed."

"Are you sure you're alright to take Jee for the afternoon then? I can ask Mrs Lee or see if she can go play with her friend Emily from down the road. "

"It's fine." Buck told her and turned to Jee. "You're my sous chef aren't you? Are you going to help me today?"

"Yeah!" the girl yelled happily.

"But we have to be quiet ok? Tommy is sleeping upstairs and we don't want to wake him. He needs to sleep because he's sick."

Jee nodded solemnly to show she understood.

"But we're going to surprise him with cake so he'll feel better soon, right?"

"Yeah!" she yelled again, making her mother and uncle laugh.

"At least she's enthusiastic." Maddie tried and bent down to hug and kiss her daughter goodbye. "You be good for uncle Buck, me or daddy will pick you up tonight ok?"

"Ok mommy!" Jee said and climbed up onto the stool next to the kitchen counter.

"Go. We'll be fine." Buck assured her, wrapping an arm around Jee to keep her safe.

After Maddie had left, Buck gave Jee an old shirt of his to wear as apron, made her wash her hands, and the two of them got to work.

He tried to let her do as much as possible while still making sure everything was going to plan and she wouldn't hurt herself.

Before long the cake was in the oven and they started the clean up.

"And when it's done baking, we let it cool off a little and then we can put the icing on and decorate it with these." he showed Jee the assortment of sprinkles he kept in his kitchen for her.

Jee nodded happily and started planning out her sprinkles masterpiece.

Buck looked up towards the bedroom area and listened for a sign of life from his boyfriend.

When he didn't hear anything, he decided to put Jee in front of the TV and go check on him. Tommy was fast asleep, rolled up in the duvet like a human burrito, and didn't seem to have woken up since Buck had made him eat something that morning.

Satisfied everything was ok, he went back downstairs and let Jee tell him all about the cartoon she was watching, until the cake was ready for decoration.

"Which ones do you want to put on first? Pink or gold?"

"Gold!"

"Alright, gold it is. Put it on where you think is best." Buck told her. "But not too much, we need to leave room for the other colours. And we can put your name on it. And mine."

"And uncle Tommy." she decided and Buck froze for a second.

Sure Tommy and Jee had met and he'd explained to her that Tommy was to him what mommy and daddy were to each other, and he was pretty sure she'd understood, but to hear her call him uncle Tommy, that was new.

Jee didn't seem to notice just how much she'd just turned his world upside down and was babbling about what colour sprinkles should go where.

"Pink here for the heart." she decided and Buck wondered when they'd agreed on heart shaped decorations.

"Right, yeah, that... that works." he let Jee draw a heart in pink sprinkles and dutifully wrote his and Tommy's names in it. "And where should I write your name?"

Jee thought for a minute and studied the cake but then shook her head.

"No name."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Jee said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and put some sugar stars across the top half of the cake, above the heart with their names. "That's the sky. With stars."

"Oh wow, that's beautiful miss Jee, did you make that?"

Buck jumped a little when he suddenly heard his boyfriend's voice behind him and felt a hand on his waist.

"Uncle Buck helped" Jee told Tommy.

"Did he now? I'm sure you did all of the important work." Tommy said and gave her a conspiratory wink before turning to Buck and stealing a small kiss. "Hey." he greeted him softly.

"H-hey... Did we wake you?"

Tommy shook his head.

"It's fine. Had to get up eventually."

"Feeling better yet?"

Tommy shrugged and sat down at the kitchen island.

"I'm alright." he just said, which wasn't really an answer but Buck decided to let it go for now.

"Uncle Tommy, it's for you. You need to come look!" Jee insisted, pointing at the cake.

Tommy met Buck's eyes over her head and mouthed "Uncle Tommy?" at him.

Buck shrugged and smiled.

"Uncle Tommy, come see!" Jee said again, a little louder this time, clearly getting fed up with the adults in her life.

"Why don't you two come here and show me, and you can tell me what you made."

Buck helped her down from her stool and put the cake on the island in front of Tommy before helping Jee back on her stool, this time sitting next to Tommy who immediately put a hand on her back so she wouldn't fall off.

"This is the sky with the stars." she started like she was explaining the mysteries of the universe. "And you can fly to the stars."

Tommy laughed a little.

"I don't think I can go quite that high in my helicopter. But maybe I can show you how high I do go. When you're a little older. And your mommy and daddy are ok with it. Maybe uncle Evan will want to come too."

Jee-Yun turned to Buck and gave him an expectant look.

"Yeah, maybe." he settled on, trying to get his heart to calm down and not burst out of his chest hearing his boyfriend make plans with his niece. Even if she was only three and would probably have forgotten about it by the time she was old enough to even think about going up.

She seemed happy with that answer and turned back to Tommy to explain the rest of their creation.

"It's really amazing Jee, it's almost too pretty to eat don't you think?"

"No. You have to eat it. It's chocolate." she said as if that explained everything.

"Oh really? I do love chocolate." Tommy told her. "But can I take a picture of it before we eat it?" he reached into the pocket of his sweats only to realise he'd left his phone upstairs. "Evan, can you take a picture and send it to me?"

"Sure." he grabbed his phone and opened the camera. "You should be in the picture too, we made it for you after all."

Tommy dutifully posed with the cake, tilting the pan towards the camera so the decorations were clearly visible.

"And now one with the master chef herself." he put the cake back down on the table and moved a little closer to Jee so they'd both fit in the picture with the cake and Buck took a few pictures.

After that Jee insisted on having a photo shoot, and by the time Maddie came to pick her back up, his camera roll was filled with pictures of the three of them.

He showed a few to Maddie at Jee's insistence and set one of Tommy making a funny face at Jee as his new contact picture.

They said goodbye to Maddie and Jee-yun and settled on the sofa together, scrolling through the pictures and laughing at some of silly ones.

"I like this one." Buck said, stopping at a selfie of the two of them where Tommy had kissed his cheek at the last second.

"Yeah. Me too." Tommy said softly, not really looking at the picture. "Thanks. For today. For getting me out of my head."

Buck smiled and kissed him.

"Of course."

[solxamber]

Hii!! I hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening/night (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/ take your time in making this request lolll (this is romantic btw)

Pomefiore with a reader who's shut in/wallflower painter, like yeah— they can talk to people but they're too shy to actually approach someone (no one probably remembers their existence /j).. so they resort to this:

If they like someone, they'd paint them as a form of expression! If they paint someone endlessly, then that probably means they really like that specific person. And then suddenly, out of the blue— they just randomly have a big fat crush on this one person, like they were so blown away by how handsome he was, so they just started to paint them.. and then they got caught! (They're probably quaking because their crush might think it's weird for some random stranger to paint you!)

Hope you can understand my vision ☹️☹️

Pomefiore x Artist!Admirer!Reader

i see your vision and it's beautiful 🫡 i hope you like this <3

Vil Schoenheit:

You’ve always admired Vil from a distance, both intimidated and captivated by his beauty. Approaching him? Absolutely out of the question. You weren’t the type to strike up a conversation with someone so effortlessly elegant, so you resorted to your old fallback: painting.

You were finishing the delicate details of Vil’s eyes—those eyes, the ones that seemed to look straight through you even from the canvas—when you heard a voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You flatter me.”

Your brush froze mid-stroke. That voice was unmistakable, but there was no way… You slowly turned your head and nearly fell off your stool.

There, standing in your studio with an amused smile on his perfect face, was Vil himself.

“I… I…” Words failed you, your heart thudding wildly in your chest. You could feel your face heating up as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the multiple portraits of him. His lips curved into a smirk.

“I didn’t realize I had such a devoted admirer,” he remarked, his tone teasing but with a hint of something more—something warmer.

You scrambled to explain, feeling as though you’d been caught doing something terribly wrong. “It’s not—I wasn’t—” You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I just… I really admire you, and painting is how I express that. I didn’t mean for it to be weird.”

Vil chuckled softly, stepping closer to inspect one of your paintings. “It’s not weird,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a gentler tone than you had expected. His eyes flicked over the details of the painting, and he smiled softly. “It’s quite beautiful, actually. You’ve captured me well.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Vil Schoenheit complimenting your work? You suddenly felt breathless, overwhelmed by the proximity of him and the unexpected praise.

“You think so?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Vil’s eyes met yours, and he nodded. “Yes. But,” he added with a knowing smile, “beauty isn’t just about perfection. Don’t be afraid to explore the imperfections. They make things more… real.”

You blinked, completely mesmerized by the intensity in his gaze. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only people in the world. Vil reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, and your breath hitched.

“Keep painting,” he said softly, his voice warm and encouraging. “You have a gift.”

You nodded, unable to form any coherent response. As Vil turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he saw more in you than you had ever realized. And that thought left you feeling both terrified and exhilarated.

Rook Hunt:

You had always thought Rook was like a walking masterpiece. Everything about him—the way he carried himself, the way he smiled, the way he moved—was simply captivating. Naturally, he became your muse.

You never thought you’d be caught, though. You had carefully set up your little studio in a secluded corner where no one usually ventured. But somehow, Rook had found you.

You were in the middle of adding the finishing touches to yet another portrait of him when you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, you heard a soft laugh.

“Ah, mon cher, what a delightful surprise.”

You jumped, your brush clattering to the floor as you whipped around to see Rook standing there, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Your heart sank. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen all the paintings?

Your face flushed as you tried to find an excuse. “I-It’s not what it looks like!” you blurted out, but even you didn’t believe that.

Rook smiled at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he approached one of your canvases. “Oh, but it is,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “And I must say, I’m quite flattered.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood in front of one of your larger portraits of him, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the frame. He turned to look at you, his expression softening. “You see me,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “I… I mean, I paint what I see,” you stammered, feeling utterly exposed.

Rook chuckled softly and took another step closer, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin so that you were forced to meet his gaze. His touch was light, almost hesitant, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart race.

“And what you see,” he whispered, “is beautiful.”

Your breath hitched. He was close now—so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The only thing that mattered was the connection between you and Rook, as if he had stepped out of the canvas and into your heart.

“I…” you started, but your voice faltered. What could you even say? That you had been painting him because you were hopelessly enamored with him? That every brushstroke was an attempt to understand the feelings you didn’t quite know how to express?

Rook smiled softly, his hand still resting under your chin. “You need not say anything,” he murmured. “I already understand.”

Before you could react, Rook pressed a light kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and soft against your skin. Your heart practically exploded in your chest, and when he pulled back, you were left staring at him in a daze.

“I look forward to seeing what else you create,” Rook said with a wink, before turning on his heel and exiting your studio, leaving you standing there, utterly flustered and hopelessly in love.

Epel Felmier:

You didn’t mean to develop feelings for Epel. Honestly, it just… happened. One minute, you were admiring how strong and determined he was, and the next, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. So naturally, you started painting him.

You had thought you were safe, tucked away in your quiet little studio, but apparently, Epel had other plans.

You were lost in your work, painting Epel in one of his rare moments of quiet—capturing the way his lilac eyes softened when he wasn’t putting on his usual tough act—when you heard his voice.

“Hey, is that me?”

Your heart nearly stopped. You spun around so fast you almost knocked over your easel. Epel was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed at the canvas.

“W-what are you doing here?!” you stammered, trying to shield the painting from his view, but it was far too late.

Epel frowned, stepping closer to get a better look at your work. “Huh. You’ve been paintin’ me?”

You were utterly mortified. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—I just…” You trailed off, completely at a loss for words.

To your surprise, Epel didn’t look angry. Instead, his frown softened into something more thoughtful. “You really think I’m worth paintin’?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You blinked at him. “Of course I do,” you said softly. “You’re… you’re really handsome, Epel. And I wanted to capture that.”

Epel’s face turned pink, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I ain’t never had anyone say that to me before,” he mumbled. “I guess I’m flattered.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, and you smiled shyly. “I’m glad.”

There was a moment of silence as Epel glanced at the painting again. “Y’know,” he said, his voice a little gruffer now, “you really did a good job. I actually look strong in this one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “That’s because you are strong, Epel.”

Epel’s blush deepened, and he muttered something under his breath. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he looked up at you and smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Maybe you could show me how to paint sometime.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’d like that.”

Masterlist

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[suiana]

The death of an artist

he's always found you beautiful, even in your death and rebirth. you'll always be perfect to him. always

(yandere! musician x gn! reader) (cw: yandere stuff idk, im wiritng this while shitting i hope u enjoy my poopoo core, 2.04k words)

you might not have realised it but your silent admirer had always watched you.

he's watched you from the shadows, observing how you interact with others, how your eyes were once full of light and joy as you shared your paintings for the world to see.

it was beautiful.

you were beautiful.

he was but an aspiring musician back then. a couple of listeners here and there but never enough to fill up a concert hall. meanwhile you were a famous artist, with your paintings selling out for millions at all the art exhibitions you hosted.

you little admirer totally idolized you.

i mean, who wouldn't? all your paintings were so full of life, oh so meaningful, and most importantly, they were made with love.

love, love, love.

it was the one thing that made you stand out from all the hundreds and thousands of artists. the one thing that inspired him to even start writing songs.

your art made him feel loved. it made him feel wanted, even. he remembers how he'd get a fuzzy feeling from all your paintings, how it sent a delightful tingle up his spine as he takes in your carefully crafted masterpieces.

though there weren't any texts, all of your paintings spoke a thousand words. and they spoke to him.

with every new piece you put out, it was like he was getting to know you better. to know you on a personal level. it made his head spin and his heart leap in delight. after all, you were his idol. the one he admired so much that he began to pursue a music career dedicated to you. the career he once left behind in favour of living in this sad world.

though at one point in time, he hit a wall.

he couldn't get any ideas, no fresh inspiration for his music. the musician could only stare at his score as his mind desperately grasps at nothing. he felt like he was dying.

then you came through, like an angel of salvation.

well, looking back, you were more like a demon of salvation. especially because that one single text from you kick-started his disgusting love for you. it feels wrong to call you a demon though, not when you were so holy that he feels like touching you will corrupt your divine light.

he still remembers waking up and seeing your text on his instagram DMs. your bright red notification ping that gave him all the motivation he needed to think of a new idea.

'hey! just wanted to tell u i really enjoy ur music! cant wait to see u get famous >w<'

he swears he could die happy just seeing you message him. you messaged him. you know of his existence??? no fucking way bro. he still wonders if he used up all his luck when you messaged him so innocently that day.

of course... he responded and thus began a friendship (?) between the two of you.

friendship. yeah, maybe for you.

truth be told, he doesn't know if he ever saw you as a friend to begin with. he always thought you messaged him because you were interested in him too. whatever, these small details aren't important.

he released a love song not long after your first interaction with him. it instantly became a viral hit, taking his follower count from the thousands to the millions. he was glad it performed so well on the charts, they were his feelings to you after all.

the now famous musician had to thank you for getting him out of his rut. without you, he'd probably have gone back to doing medicine. so he did the best thing and that was to invite you out for a meal. he had to thank his muse, didn't he?

you were a little hesitant at first. that's okay, if anything he thought it was cute that you were suspicious of him. there will be plenty of time for you to warm up to him later.

the little get-together, or first date as he likes to call it, went well! you two saw each other in real life for the first time! and boy was he smitten. if he was unsure about whether he was in love with you before, he sure as hell was sure now.

you were so much more lovely in real life than you were over text. all smiles and laughs, your admirer feels that his songs didn't do you justice.

"this was fun! let's do this again!"

oh for sure he will do it again. he just wants you all to himself now. to keep you with him, a never-ending source of inspiration for the rest of his life. his beloved muse. the one he writes for. the one his songs are dedicated to. his.

so your falling off played out nicely in his favour. you were trying out an experimental style, said that he inspired you. it was one that not many would be able to understand at first glance, completely different from what your previous one was. your loyal fans stood by your side of course, him included. but the general public eventually started ignoring your newer pieces in favour for something they didn't need to use much thought to understand. for someone fresh, someone new.

he could see the way the light in your eyes slowly started to dim at the lack of interaction. sure, you said that fame wasn't important to you, that all you wanted was to showcase your art to the world.

but your little admirer could tell that it was bothering you more than you'd like to admit.

he saw the way your texts with him grew more erratic, the way the vibrant life in your eyes started to slowly dim, the way you started pushing out more works to compensate for the style change. you were desperate for the attention you once received. the way you changed in real time, becoming a slave to the consumers, like an animated robot that pushed out art just for the sake of it...

it was a little sad to see to be honest. it was like you were there, but you also weren't, you know? your name was on the artwork but he didn't see you in it.

but he was glad things turned out the way it did. it meant that he could be there for you when you cried and felt like a mistake. it meant that he could offer you a shoulder to cry on when the times were really bad.

"there there, it's alright. just let it all out."

his gentle caresses as you cried your heart out into his chest... it was delightful to see you depend on him so much. that you'd come seeking comfort from him in such a dark period of your life. he felt so wanted by you.

meanwhile, his fame was only growing larger by the day. while you were on a path to being forgotten, he was making a name for himself in the music industry. brand deals, billboards, advertisements. he was everywhere, like a ghost haunting you, to remind you that your friend was thriving while you weren't.

the musician wonders whether you've ever hated him. that you'd think he was stealing all of your fame. after all, your fame went down not long after you messaged him. he really wonders whether you've ever blamed him for making a change in your art style.

it doesn't matter now.

the artist in you was gone.

"hey, what if you make me an album cover?"

you only stared at him with dark eyes before looking away. everyone around you had slowly started distancing themselves from you. the change in your personality and looks had scared them. everyone but him had stayed. his words about horrid snakes deceiving you fill your head as you cling to the attention he gave you. who were you to deny your only friend left?

"sure."

you didn't give much thought when designing his new album. it was an avant garde album that had themes about desperation, love, and death.

how ironic, you thought.

you gave the complete piece to him a few days after, heavy bags under your eyes as your friend hugged and kissed your cheek. he's been taking care of you recently. having you move in with him, cooking you food and covering all of your expenses. he treated you like a lover. albeit you found it a bit weird that he told you not to leave without his consent. said that he didn't want people to harass you. you found it sweet of him. you were glad that he cared for you so much.

"my dear artist friend designed my new album cover, yes. i think they were a perfect fit to help design this particular album cover. they're..."

your fame immediately came back. interviews, likes, commissions, the things you were once familiar with came running back at full force after your friend's interview with a big channel.

you think if this happened earlier you'd have caved under the attention. the big spotlight, fans.... the attention will always be intoxicating. even now, you feel yourself smiling at the number of notifications you're receiving from strangers.

but you've realized that their attention is only temporary. the second you grow irrelevant they'll drop you again. just like they did before.

the only one who matters is your friend. the one who whispered sweet nothings and reassured you when you were drowning in a mass of nothingness. the one who gave you the attention you craved.

you immediately started a new piece in a new style.

'Intertwined'

a painting that gave you more fame than what you initially had before. it was a piece about self enlightenment, discovery, and contentment. and some claimed that it was the best painting that you've ever made. a masterpiece.

you showed your friend your work right after you were done and you could've sworn you saw a hint of shock in his eyes. maybe also fear? you don't know.

"this is... beautiful."

his words were slow, gaze intense as he stared at your painting for what felt like hours. you think he was mesmerized. you never asked him.

you made another painting after that.

'final duet'

again, people claimed that it was a masterpiece. your friend looked stunned again and he called it beautiful like always. he told you that he's never seen something so artistically perfect before and that he's proud of you. you like it. his compliments make you happy.

"this one is for you."

you made another piece. a simple painting of him in your style.

'untitled.jpg'

"is... it mine now?"

he proceeded to draw you into the painting as well after your words. you didn't understand what he was doing. but you found it cute. he was drawing you?

"there. now it's perfect."

he smiles down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead like he always does. you've grown so used to his kisses that you were expecting one already. you lean into his touch before smiling softly.

"i'm so happy with you."

"me too."

the seed of life was sprouting once more, growing around the stem that it's learnt to grow dependent on.

he was everything to you. you feel like you'd die without him. but you know it'll never happen because your dearest friend will always remain by your side. he promised you. his words are like gold. he's the only one who matters.

you never want to be apart ever again.

thus you made your final masterpiece about love and dedication. a flower thriving in a dark environment and growing to love the dark, having died in the shining light once before.

'rebirth'

the blinds to the outside world shut on the two of you. no one else is important. he tells you he loves you. you repeat it. his hands wrap around you as you lean into his cold touch. you're cold too. you used to be warm once, he says he likes you cold better. shutting your eyes, all you focus on is the steady beating of his heart.

now no one will ever bother the two lovers ever again.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi! I've recently found your blog and first of all, let me say that you are brilliant! I read your fic about singer!reader x Hotch and I was wondering if you'd be open to write another fic/drabble about them? Like imagine it's Valkyrie's opening night of her tour for her new album, the entire team is there, and reader keeps looking/pointing at Hotch during the songs (like Taylor Swift is doing whenever Travis Kelce is there?) I just think Hotch would be so flustered it would be so cute *-*

No worries if you don't feel like writing this btw! Hope you have a great day!!

Opening night | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem singer!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: nothing

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m glad you found my blog and hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💕

The venue buzzed with anticipation, the low hum of conversation and excited cheers weaving into a symphony of pre-show excitement from your fans. Your opener had just left the stage, almost jumping with excitement as she relayed how great the crowd had been. You loved seeing how energetic she was coming off the stage, knowing that you'd made the right choice in bringing a newer artist on tour with you, rather than the more established one your label had recommended during the planning meetings.

The stage was dark and wrapped in mystique as your crew moved around in the shadows, changing a few instruments out and moving some positions of others as they prepared the stage for you and your band.

The BAU team occupied a cluster of prime seats up on the balcony, their enthusiasm apparent in their attire and energy as they waited for you to come out.

Despite their excitement, no one matched Garcia's energy. She sat at the edge of her seat, ready to jump out of her seat, her bejeweled glasses catching the dim light. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered for the fifth time that evening, shaking her head as if to reset her reality. “Hotch — our Hotch — is dating Valkyrie. THE Valkyrie. My favorite artist of all time. How does that even happen? What alternate dimension are we living in?” Hotch smiled quietly to himself as he listened to Garcia

“This is wild,” Morgan said, leaning back in his seat with a grin as he looked out over the stadium. “I still can’t believe we know Valkyrie. Like, know her know her.”

“She’s amazing,” JJ agreed. “This new album? Masterpiece.”

Rossi chuckled, sipping his whiskey. “I think we’re all in agreement. What about you, Aaron? Nervous to be the muse tonight?”

Hotch, seated at the edge of their group, straightened his tie and gave Rossi a glance. “I’m just here to support her,” he said simply, his tone calm, the usual stoic Hotchner tone that showed no emotion. But the slight tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement, a crack in his normal demeanor that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.  

Garcia gasped dramatically, clutching her phone like it was a lifeline. “Oh my GOD, you’re blushing already!” she exclaimed, her fingers moving quickly to snap a picture. “This is going in the vault.”

Hotch sighed, but his smirk lingered. “Garcia put the phone away.”

“Absolutely not,” she replied, grinning as she angled for another shot. “This is for posterity, boss man. You’ll thank me later.”

Morgan leaned back in his seat, shaking his head with a laugh. “Posterity, huh? I think she just wants proof she knows someone famous by association.”

“Don’t we all?” JJ added with a grin, nudging Garcia.  

Before Hotch could muster a reply, the rest of the lights in the arena shut off, and the venue was plunged into darkness. A wave of energy rippled through the crowd, the excited murmur rising into a roar of cheers that shook the room. The stage lights remained off, the suspense growing as the audience clapped and whistled.  

Then it started — a chant, low at first but growing louder with each passing second as more and more of your fans caught onto it.  

“Valkyrie! Valkyrie! Valkyrie!”

Garcia clutched Morgan’s arm, her excitement bubbling over. “Do you hear that? That’s for her!”

Hotch leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the stage. The chant grew louder.  

The first note of the opening song rang out, clear and strong, echoing through the venue like a call to arms. The stage erupted in light, beams of gold and white cutting through the darkness as the music built to its first crescendo. Suddenly, a platform at the center of the stage began to rise, smoke swirling around its edges.

And there you were, emerging from the floor, your silhouette framed by the blinding spotlights behind you, creating a halo-like effect that made you look angelic. The crowd’s cheers exploded into an uproar, the sheer volume rattling the balcony where the BAU team sat.

You stepped forward with effortless grace, your breathtaking costume catching every flicker of light. It shimmered with each movement, the intricate detailing making you look like a constellation. The energy you radiated was magnetic — electric — and it pulled every eye in the room to you.

Hotch’s gaze never left you, although he could sense several men in the pit staring at you with hungry looks — he couldn't lie, it made him a little jealous and perhaps even a little overprotective, wanting to jump in a hide you away.

He’d seen you perform countless times, but tonight felt different. It wasn’t just the crowd or the grandeur of the venue; it was the unmistakable pride that welled in his chest watching you command the stage as you did.  

As you launched into the second song, your voice soaring effortlessly through the lyrics, you began scanning the crowd. Your smile widened when your eyes found him. You paused for the briefest moment, microphone in hand, before pointing directly at him.  

The reaction from the audience was deafening, a mix of cheers and laughter as people tried to decipher who the gesture was for. Hotch, however, stiffened in his seat, his normally composed self giving way to a look of wide-eyed surprise.  

“Oh no, she didn’t!” Morgan barked out, laughing so hard he had to brace himself against Rossi. “Hotch! You’ve been claimed!”

“She’s bold,” JJ whispered, grinning as she nudged Garcia.  

Garcia fanned herself dramatically. “Forget Hotch — I’m in love.”

Hotch shook his head, a small, embarrassed smile playing at his lips. He tugged at his tie, adjusting it more out of habit than necessity, and kept his focus on you.  

And you didn’t stop.  

As you moved through your set, you stole moments to lock eyes with him, a sly smile or a quick glance that sent the team into fits of laughter every time. During a particularly sultry number, you sauntered across the stage, letting the lyrics drip with honey as you zeroed in on him. The crowd saw a confident performer captivating her audience — although you were sure a few fans had caught on by now, and that you'd find edits and clips from tonight on social media in the following days — Hotch only saw you teasing him mercilessly.  

By the time you reached the final song, Hotch’s usual exterior had cracked. His tie was loose, his cheeks faintly pink, and his lips tugged into an almost constant smile.  

“She’s singing to you again,” Garcia teased, leaning over to snap another picture.  

Reid tilted his head. “Well actually, she’s pointed at him approximately seven times now in this song alone. That seems statistically significant.”

“Statistically significant” Morgan repeated in a mocking tone, laughing. “Reid, it means they're whipped for each other.”

Hotch leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving you, and shook his head. “You’re all ridiculous.”

But when you sent one last wink his way before stepping off stage before returning for the encore, even he couldn’t deny the truth.  

[reaper2187]

Caitlyn kiramman x female reader

The escape plan

Ghosts of the Past

The safe house Caitlyn had arranged was a modest hideout on the outskirts of Piltover. It was quiet, secluded, and far enough from prying eyes to allow them time to regroup.

Y/N stood at the window, gazing out at the city lights in the distance. Her posture was relaxed, but her mind was far from still. Vi sat at the small table, drumming her fingers anxiously, while Caitlyn was in the corner, tinkering with her rifle.

The silence stretched until Vi finally spoke. “You’re gonna tell me what’s going on, right? About Jhin?”

Y/N’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though her gaze remained fixed on the window. “You really want to open that box, Vi?”

“Yes,” Vi said firmly, leaning forward. “You disappeared for years, and now I find out you have a brother—a brother who’s infamous, by the way. How does that even work?”

Caitlyn looked up, intrigued. “You’re Jhin’s sister?”

Y/N sighed, turning to face them. “Jhin and I...we’re complicated. He’s my brother, yes, but we’re not close in the traditional sense. We share a bond, but it’s one built on understanding, not affection.”

“What kind of understanding?” Caitlyn asked, her tone cautious.

Y/N stepped closer to the table, her expression unreadable. “We both see death as more than an end. For Jhin, it’s art—a masterpiece to be created with precision and care. For me...it’s a host. Something inevitable, something I’ve embraced. Death isn’t cruel or kind. It simply is.”

Vi frowned, her frustration evident. “That doesn’t explain why you never told me about him.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, a rare flicker of vulnerability breaking through. “Because it wasn’t your burden to carry, Vi. Jhin and I have our own paths, our own ways of dealing with the world. Bringing you into that would’ve only made things harder.”

As the conversation settled, Caitlyn found herself drawn to Y/N’s perspective. “You speak about death as if it’s a friend.”

“In a way, it is,” Y/N replied, leaning against the wall. “You’d be surprised how much clarity it brings. Most people fear it, run from it, but it’s the one constant we all share.”

Caitlyn studied her, her curiosity growing. “And Jhin? Does he share that clarity?”

Y/N’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Jhin sees the beauty in it, the symmetry. For him, every kill is a performance, a statement. I respect that, even if I don’t always agree with his methods.”

“You respect him?” Vi asked, disbelief lacing her voice. “The guy’s a psycho.”

“Maybe,” Y/N admitted, shrugging. “But he’s also a genius. You can’t deny that.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of Y/N’s words settling over them. Caitlyn found herself wondering what it would be like to see the world through Y/N’s eyes—a world where death wasn’t something to fear but something to understand.

Later that night, while Caitlyn and Vi were sleeping, Y/N sat alone by the window. The faint hum of the city outside was a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, intricately folded piece of paper.

Unfolding it, she found a single line written in Jhin’s precise, elegant handwriting: “Every stage needs its performer, sister. When will you embrace yours?”

Y/N smirked, the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes. Jhin always had a flair for the dramatic. She folded the paper carefully and tucked it back into her pocket, her thoughts drifting to their shared past.

Jhin had always been the artist, the perfectionist. Even as children, he had a fascination with detail, with creating something beautiful out of chaos. Y/N, on the other hand, had been the realist, the pragmatist. Where Jhin sought beauty, she found purpose. Their views aligned just enough to coexist but diverged enough to keep them apart.

The next morning, Caitlyn found Y/N sitting on the steps outside the safe house, her expression distant. She hesitated for a moment before joining her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Caitlyn asked.

Y/N shook her head. “Too much on my mind.”

Caitlyn sat beside her, her rifle resting across her lap. “I’ve been trying to figure you out.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “Good luck with that.”

“You’re not what I expected,” Caitlyn admitted. “When Vi mentioned you, I thought you’d be...different.”

“Different how?”

“Angrier. Bitter. But you’re...calm. Like you’ve made peace with everything.”

Y/N turned to her, her gaze piercing. “Making peace doesn’t mean forgetting. I’ve done things I can’t undo, Caitlyn. But I’ve also accepted that those things are part of who I am.”

Caitlyn nodded slowly, her respect for Y/N growing. “You and Jhin...do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

“Probably,” Y/N said with a faint smile. “Our paths tend to cross when we least expect it.”

Caitlyn hesitated before asking, “And when they do, what happens?”

Y/N’s expression softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability breaking through. “That depends on him.”

As the days passed, the group worked on building a plan to stay ahead of the enforcers who were undoubtedly hunting them. Y/N proved invaluable, her experience and resourcefulness keeping them one step ahead.

Despite her initial reservations, Caitlyn found herself drawn to Y/N—not just her skills but the quiet strength beneath her stoic exterior. There was a complexity to her, a depth that Caitlyn couldn’t help but admire.

Vi, too, seemed to be healing. Though she and Y/N still had their differences, the bond they shared was undeniable. They often sparred in the mornings, their playful banter a reminder of the sibling-like relationship they had once shared.

But the shadow of Jhin lingered over them all, an unspoken reminder of the danger that still lay ahead.

Hope you enjoy part 4 someday now, if you have any requests send them my way, and ye hope you like it

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hello!! I’m not sure if this has been done before, but may I request how Trey, Cater, Azul, Rook and Idia would react to their s/o plays with their hair when cuddling with them?

Also, I wanted to say that I really like your writing. It feels like I’m reading a masterpiece, and whenever I get a notification from your blog I can’t help but feel giddy and wonder what masterpieces have you written today!! I hope you are taking care of yourself though, it’s not good to strain yourself!! :c

(I did this for Cater which pretty much feels like the same thing!

and thank you so much dear <3)

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul struggled hard with intimacy and even something as simple as running your fingers through his hair would take some getting used to. It’s better to announce what you want to do, not just because you get the gift of Azul’s flustered face, but because it gives himself a chance to think about it. He’ll normally allow you to at least try, as long as there’s an agreement that the minute he said no you’d stop, but he found having his hair played with wasn’t all that bad.

Idia Shroud:

Idia is trying not to sweat too much from cuddling, let alone you lovingly playing with his hair like you’re the most wholesome couple on the planet. He quickly realized that the visual novels ARE right, that having your scalp massaged and your hair twirled was the greatest feeling in the world. He wondered if he could employ your services as sometimes when he was in a raid he could get so tense he became tilted, but thought twice of it since you’d turn into an even bigger distraction.

Rook Hunt:

Rook is like a purring cat, unable to deny the draw of your soft, skilled hands as they worshipped his silky locks of hair. He chuckled as he thought about your natural smell passing along to him from how much you touched, the gentle breeze blowing making it seem like you were present when in fact it was just your remnants left over on his skin. It’s not an unpleasant thought, as smell was often used to mark territory, and you’re completely lost as Rook rambled about how honored he was to have you mark him up.

Trey Clover:

Having you play with his hair had always made Trey laugh, as it wasn’t quite long enough to do much with but you always seemed entertained by it. It was always so soft and lovely, you couldn’t help yourself, and sometimes you’d massage his head when he had a headache just to get your hands in his hair again. Trey couldn’t find it in him to complain, thinking that as long as it made you happy he’d fake a headache or two just to give you a reason.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason headcanons PLEASE!!!!! <3

I had to use Juni Ba’s The Boy Wonder images of Jason as they are the best and I love them, LOOK AT HIM! Skrunkly bastard (affectionate)

You are legally contracted to hold his hand 24/7. Constant touches are a thing with Jason as he doesn’t like you being too far away from him to reach for you in the instant something bad were to happen, he wanted to be able to pull you away from the first signs of danger he sees.

He’s protective over you because he didn’t think he’d get the chance to find happiness nor peace in his life after coming back from the pit. He didn’t believe it was in the cards for him at all given how his life had been thus far.

You ground him when Jason’s thoughts got too loud for his liking and needed something to focus in on and what’s better to focus on other then your touch in order to calm himself down. He practically melts and gets fearful when you try to pull away.

If it’s a rainy day in Gotham -which is probably more often then not- you and Jason would use this as an excuse to cuddle up to one another in your most comfiest of clothing and sit on the windowsill to listen to the rain outside as you exchanged kisses.

This man has never known a moment of peace until you entered his life and so he is extremely grateful that you even give him the time of day to go out with him. Without you he’s hopeless and lost because he had been wanting a truthful and honest connection but had never found it with anyone but you.

You don’t treat him as though he was going to snap and instead like an ordinary human being and Jason has never been more in love then he has when you made him feel normal.

Jason likes having non sexual skin to skin contact with you where he got to trace your bare skin with his hands as though he were admiring a masterpiece, a deity before him because to him you very much were and he loved every aspect of you no matter what, he’ll go as far as to kiss your bodily insecurities as often as you’d let him if it meant showing you just how in love with you he was.

Bonus if you reciprocate this by kissing his scars and insecurities while telling him how beautiful and perfect he is, Jason can and will cry into your shoulder when you do shower him in sweet words and soft caresses.

He’s not use to tender touches and so he’d often flinches before realising that he’ll never come to harm when with you, he’d only be greeted with love, affection and respect.

He reads you to sleep when your having troubles doing so on your own, he’ll hold you against his chest as he reads the chapter of his book aloud for you, his thumb stroking your side reassuringly until you fell asleep with your face buried into your neck.

Jason sleeps with his back towards the door whenever he holds you, it’s so that if anything were to try and harm you, they’d have to go through him first and Jason would fight tooth and nail if it meant keeping you safe.

You were his reason for being and he wasn’t about to let you be ripped from his arms, he shamelessly wants you to himself because when has he ever had something that was just his?

He likes it when you greet him in the mornings by hugging him from behind as he makes you breakfast and loves it even more when you tighten your hold every time he moved. Jason loved being loved and he loves being loved by you especially.

[imreidswifey]

A Thanksgiving Revelation

Summary: After two years of keeping his relationship a secret, Dr. Spencer Reid surprises his BAU family by bringing his stunning and kind-hearted girlfriend, Y/N, to Thanksgiving dinner at Rossi’s house. What starts as shock and curiosity quickly turns into warmth and acceptance as the team gets to know Y/N, marveling at the woman who captured their genius friend’s heart. For Spencer, it’s a night of vulnerability, love, and the merging of two important worlds.

A/n: this was so fun to make. Hope you enjoy. Please make any request that you have. 

Warnings:

Fluff and wholesome content

Mild social awkwardness (classic Spencer Reid moments)

Themes of family and found family dynamics

Light teasing and playful banter

Some mentions of insecurity (Spencer’s concerns about introducing Y/N)

———————————————————————————-

David Rossi’s house was a masterpiece of elegance, adorned with tasteful holiday decor and filled with the tantalizing aroma of roasted turkey and pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving at Rossi’s had become a BAU tradition, a rare chance for the team to relax and enjoy each other’s company without the looming shadow of their work.

Spencer Reid had arrived early, helping Rossi set up while the others trickled in. As the team chatted and sipped on wine, Spencer casually mentioned he’d be leaving to pick up his “special guest.”

“Special guest?” Emily Prentiss repeated, arching an eyebrow as she expertly poured herself a glass of red wine. “Spence, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I… uh… it’s just someone I thought you’d all like to meet,” Spencer replied, his hands fumbling nervously with the sleeves of his sweater vest.

Garcia practically pounced on him, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you bringing a date? A lady friend?”

Spencer’s face turned an impossible shade of crimson. “It’s not a big deal, okay? I’ll just… I’ll be back soon.” And with that, he was out the door, leaving behind a buzz of excitement and speculation.

When Spencer returned, the chatter in the living room came to an abrupt halt. Standing beside him, her hand delicately resting in his, was you. The first thing the team noticed was how undeniably stunning you were. Your features radiated an effortless beauty, and your warm smile lit up the room like the flickering glow of the Thanksgiving candles. You were dressed elegantly but casually, your outfit perfectly complementing your natural charm.

The silence stretched for just a beat too long.

“Uh, everyone, this is Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice a mixture of nerves and pride.

JJ was the first to recover, her jaw slightly agape as she smiled. “Wait… Spencer… this is who you’ve been hiding from us?”

“Hiding is a strong word,” Spencer mumbled, glancing at you apologetically.

“You didn’t even hint you had a girlfriend,” Emily chimed in, her eyes narrowing in mock accusation. “And two years? Are you serious?”

“Two years?” Derek Morgan exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up. He glanced between the two of you, his playful smirk firmly in place. “Pretty Boy, you’ve been holding out on us.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Spencer said quickly, his cheeks flaming. “And… I didn’t want to overwhelm Y/N.”

“Overwhelm her?” Garcia interjected, standing and practically running over to greet you. “Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous! Spencer, no wonder you kept this a secret. You were worried we’d steal her away!”

You laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “I think he was more worried you’d scare me off.”

Rossi chuckled from his spot by the fireplace, raising his glass. “Smart man. We can be a lot to handle.”

As introductions were made, the team took turns gawking—not so subtly—at Spencer’s choice in a partner. It wasn’t just your beauty that captivated them; it was the way you carried yourself, with confidence and kindness, and how Spencer looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“So how did you meet?” Emily asked as the group settled around the dining table, with you seated beside Spencer.

“It was at a bookstore,” you began, glancing at Spencer. “I overheard him recommending a book to someone, and I was so intrigued that I went over to ask him about it.”

“She thought I was showing off,” Spencer interjected, a rare mischievous glint in his eye.

“Well, you were quoting entire passages and explaining the cultural significance of the author,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“That sounds about right,” JJ said with a laugh. “Classic Spencer.”

You smiled at Spencer, your eyes softening. “But I thought it was endearing. He wasn’t showing off—he was just so passionate about it. We ended up talking for hours, and the rest is history.”

“You must have the patience of a saint,” Morgan joked. “Spencer can’t order a coffee without giving the barista a lesson on the origin of beans.”

“Oh, I love that about him,” you said, earning a chorus of “aww”s from the group. Spencer’s ears turned red again, but this time he was smiling.

As the evening wore on, the team got to know you better. You shared stories about your relationship, like how Spencer always left sticky notes with random facts on the fridge for you, or how he insisted on teaching you the basics of chess despite your protests.

“You’ve got a good one here, Y/N,” Rossi said as he handed you a slice of pumpkin pie. “I hope he knows how lucky he is.”

“I remind myself every day,” Spencer said quietly, his hand finding yours under the table.

As the night wound down, Garcia turned to you with a dreamy sigh. “Y/N, I have to say, you’re absolutely amazing. And stunning. I mean, no offense, but Spencer? How did he manage this?”

“Garcia!” Spencer groaned, hiding his face in his hands as the room erupted in laughter.

“It’s true!” she exclaimed, unapologetic. “Y/N, you’re like a movie star, and Spencer is… well, Spencer.”

You smiled, leaning closer to Spencer. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” you said, your voice warm. “He’s even more amazing than you think.”

That quiet confession silenced the room for a moment, the team exchanging soft smiles. Spencer looked at you, his hazel eyes brimming with gratitude and love.

Rossi raised his glass again. “To Spencer and Y/N—an exceptional couple. Here’s to family, in all its forms.”

As the toast echoed around the table, Spencer squeezed your hand, his heart full. For the first time, his two worlds had collided, and instead of falling apart, they’d created something beautiful—a family he could finally share you with.