#thank you @coffee for posing for this art

[canisalbus]

.

[chris-prank]

A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 1 : Something warm

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

CW: NSFW, pet play?, praise kink, masturbation, humping, porn with plot, yandere behavior, mention of stalking and use of y/n

Next chapter

Word count: Over 3K

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The winter cold had arrived in town, but you had underestimated it. You could clearly see the vapor escape your mouth as you breathed on your palms to warm them up. It was lunch break, so you had decided to treat yourself with a hot drink at the local coffee shop. They had a large variety of food and drinks, which was always nice when in a rush.  It was really close to the place you worked at, so the perfect opportunity to get some fresh air in your system. 

I wonder if Jacce is going to be there today, you ask yourself while rubbing your hands together and placing them in your pockets. He was one of the baristas. He always took the time to make little doodles on your cup to go or make foam art if you stayed for longer. You never really had a deep conversation, but you often thought it would be nice to get to know him. 

You arrived in front of the open sign and swiftly pushed the door to take shelter from the cold. Jacce seemed to cheer up as he noticed you. He made his way to the counter, a small smile gracing his lips while he adjusted his apron. Despite his tall figure, Jacce’s hunched over pose almost made him eye to eye with you. Emphasis on almost, he was still way taller.

“Welcome back! Wh-what can I get you today?” 

You told him you wanted a chicken soup with your hot drink, since you had the time to stay a bit longer today. While ordering, you noticed little button pins on his neck strap. One was definitely the pansexual flag and the other was the band Ghost’s logo. 

“I like your button pins!” You commented while handing him the right amount of money, your fingers brushing lightly against his palm. 

“O-oh! Thanks! you're the first client to notice them… well to say something about it at least.”

He started fidgeting with them and gave you a sheepish grin. You swore his face had gotten more flushed than before, but not thinking much of it you made your way to a nearby table. Soon, Jacce arrived with your food ready in hand. You took the tray and admired his work of art. It was a cute Shiba Inu made of foam milk coming out of the mug. He really made it impressively detailed. You took a glance at the soup and the croissant next to it… A croissant? Your neurons finally made the connections that you didn’t order this, after a good second of zoning out. You looked up at Jacce, but he simply glanced away. Oh, it was on purpose. 

“Aw! You didn’t have to!” 

“It’s nothing really…You are m— our favorite regular after all, I need to treat you from time to time.” He pouted, as if it was an insult not to give you special attention. His comment turned your cheeks slightly red. You didn’t know at all that the people working here liked you this much. 

Jacce stayed in place despite already giving you your order. It seemed like the barista wanted to chat longer, but another customer was waiting, so he left reluctantly. 

“The art is really cute by the way!” You shouted from your seat. You saw Jacce lit up with a giddy smile, but in a matter of seconds he returned to his neutral face when addressing the man at the counter. 

You took out your phone to take a picture of the little foam dog before it disappeared into the warm liquid. After that you decided to attack the croissant first, not wanting to give your tongue a second degree burn with the chicken soup or the drink. You took a huge bite, crumbs falling on your laps despite your best efforts. They really had amazing pastry here. The price reflected that, and your wallet definitely knew it well. You were so wrapped in your own little world that your brain blocked out everything going on around you, until an angry voice disturbed your peace. 

“DON’T try to give excuses!”

“S-sir, p-please…”

A man, probably in his fifties, was menacingly pointing his finger at Jacce. He anxiously ran a hand through his mud brown hair, looking everywhere except in the clients eyes. Your heartbeat picked up in pace as you watched the scene unfold, you didn’t want to imagine how the poor barista felt. 

“I don’t have any music playing, I swear! It’s just to take out surrendering noises when I’m —”

“Your generation are such snowflakes! I want to talk to your manager!” 

Jacce let out an anxious laugh before answering.

“I a-am actually the… manager, but I’m als–”

“FOR GOD SAKE! Proof that this place is run by idiots!”

Ok, this guy is seriously going overboard. You looked around to watch the reaction of the other customers. They were understandably all silent, almost frozen in their seats. Seeing no one ready to advocate for the poor guy caused your protective side to kick in. 

“How is it even a problem if he can hear you perfectly?”

The man turned to you with a surprise expression, not expecting anyone to intervene, but soon enough he gave you the same angry stare Jacce had received.  

“It’s a matter of respect.”

“Well you're not being really respectful right now.”

“Are you fricking— You know what? You just lost a valuable customer.” He spat out at the barista and stormed off, but not before knocking over a stand of straws. 

Jacce was visibly affected by this whole encounter. He almost looked like he was going to have an anxiety attack, because of the way he was gripping his shirt. You quickly went up to the counter and kneeled down to clean up the mess. 

“I am so sorry for you, people can be so rude! That’s why I prefer a job without any social interaction, a pure paradise I tell you!” you joked, trying to soothe him. “I hope it didn’t ruin your day…”

Your attention wandered away as you picked off the ground the reusable straws. You could hear Jacce say something, but only for it to be mixed with the background noises. 

“Mm what did you say?”

“Oh em— I just said that it won’t affect the rest of my day, don't worry.”

Jacce’s hand reached up and it looked like he was scratching his neck. He seemed to have calmed down which made you a bit relieved. After all that, you went back to your table and finished your food and drink. You told Jacce goodbye before going back to your own job. 

The rest of your day went normally, but it was still pretty intense. You were at least glad that you didn’t have to deal with angry clients unlike a certain someone. On that note your mind wandered back to Jacce. Next time you should try to get to know him better. He seemed to be eager for it as well. 

***

I hope they’ll come by today,  Jacce whined internally as he tried to search out the window for a glimpse of his beloved. It has been two days since the last time he officially saw them, two days too much in his opinion. He did follow them after work, but it wasn’t the same. The barista wanted to talk to them, even if it was just for a second. 

Jacce mindlessly twisted the sleeve of his forest green turtleneck between his fingers. He had a huge collection of thrifted knitted turtleneck sweater, but this one was definitely his favorite since it was the softest on his skin. 

After one more hour of torture, waiting for a certain someone, they finally pushed open the door of the coffee shop. It took merely a second for Jacce to notice them. He wanted to run to the counter to make sure his coworkers didn't steal this moment from him, but it would have looked suspicious. Luckily, everyone else was too busy to take care of it.

“Welcome back! Wh-what can I get for you today?” The question was more a force of habits than an honest one. Jacce knew perfectly their favorite drink and how they wanted it to be prepared. Just like he expected, y/n ordered the same thing as usual, but with chicken soup. That’s a good sign, he thought; they always order something to eat when they are planning on staying. 

Jacce told them the price and took the chance to admire their complexion while they were busy searching in their wallet. He really loved everything about his darling, from head to toe. As they paid, he felt the tip of y/n finger brush against his palm, shooting heat to his face and somewhere else. 

“I like your button pins!”

The sudden compliment caught him off guard. He was already overjoyed by the touch of his favorite client, but this was definitely making his face burn ten times more. He awkwardly thanked them, but thankfully they didn’t seem to notice his intense reaction, instead leaving to take a seat soon after their interaction. 

Jacce calmed himself down as he brainstormed what he could possibly make in milk foam this time. He ended up with the idea of a cute dog. Everyone likes dogs, right? He sure hoped they did. Furthermore, he took the opportunity to add a croissant next to the bowl of soup. It was a slow day anyway and it's not like it was making the business lose a lot of money. The barista carefully took the tray and brought it to their table. Normally they would just call people at the counter to get their order, but he seriously wasn’t going to bother y/n for such a silly thing. 

Jacce was so proud at the stunned look on his the customers face when they saw the little Shiba Inu made out of foam milk and the free croissant. He couldn’t help but sweat as they looked up at him. 

“Aw Jacce! You didn’t have to!” 

“It’s nothing really…You are m— our favorite regular after all, I need to treat you from time to time.” He pouted. 

He soon noticed that they were blushing. Fuck! I made them blush! That’s what he wanted more than anything, to make them love him just as much as he loved them. This definitely was a good sign.  If only he could stay longer to admire them from up close, but no. Another customer had to enter and ruin the only good moment of his day. 

“The art is really cute by the way!” He heard them shout from their table as he left. Jacce lit up with a giddy smile, but in a matter of seconds he returned to his neutral face when addressing the man at the counter. 

“What can I get you sir?” He asks with a monotone voice while gently tugging at his only dark strand of hair. 

“I’ll get a black cof– are you listening to music, young man?” 

Jacce looked up at the client that had noticed his earbuds.

“No sir, I can assure you I’m not.”

“DON’T lie to me!”

“S-sir, p-please…”

The man, probably in his fifties, menacingly pointed his finger at him. Jacce anxiously ran a hand through his mud brown hair, looking everywhere except in the clients eyes. This was going worse than he expected. He could feel himself sweating profusely. 

“I don’t have a-any music playing, I swear! It’s just to take out surrendering noises when I’m —”

“Your generation are such snowflakes! I want to talk to your manager!” 

Jacce let out an anxious laugh before answering.

“I a-am actually the… manager, but I’m als–”

“FOR GOD SAKE! Proof that this place is run by idiots!”

A worker named Pierre opened his mouth to intervene, but he was not quick enough it seemed.  

“How is it even a problem sir if he can hear you perfectly?”

Jacce had to hold himself back to not cry from happiness. There they were, his precious love standing up for him. 

The man turned to them with a surprise expression, not expecting anyone to speak up, but soon enough gave y/n an angry stare. Jacce couldn’t let that slide. This man was definitely banned from the shop.   

“It’s a matter of respect.”

“Well you're not being really respectful right now.”

“Are you fricking— You know what? You just lost a valuable customer.” He spat out in Jacce’s way and stormed off, but not before knocking over a stand of straws. 

Jacce could never get used to situations like this, it always affected him. Still, he tried his best to regulate his breathing as he gripped his shirt. Y/n quickly went up to the counter and kneeled down out of view. The barista leaned against the counter to look at what they were doing. His darling was cleaning up the mess the waste of air had just caused. 

“I am so sorry for you, people can be so rude! That’s why I prefer a job without any social interaction, a pure paradise I tell you!” They joked, “I hope it didn’t ruin your day…”

It was so sweet of them, not only did they advocate on his behalf but they were thoughtful enough to lift his spirit too. Jacce really couldn’t wait to be theirs and repay them for all their kindness. 

“No need to worry about that, you made it perfect already.”

“Mm what did you say?”

“Oh em— I just said that it won’t affect the rest of my day, don’t worry.”

The man could feel his erection pressing painfully against the restraint of his pants. Instinctively, he reached up to the collar hidden under his clothes to brush it with his fingers. It had a tag with Jacce engraved on the front. On the backside it said “property of” followed by y/n and their phone number. He clenched his fist, he really couldn’t wait to get home.

When they left, the rest of Jacce’s day consisted of him daydreaming about the chivalry of his sweetheart. Once he arrived at his house, it was a matter of seconds before his pants were taken off. He didn’t even wait to be in his room, instead opting for the cold tile floor of his bathroom. He took out of one of the cabinets a small bottle of lotion, opened it with his left hand and generously poured the content on the other. He had these bottles scattered all around his home, including the bag that he brought with him everywhere he went. Biting his bottom lips, he ran his hand down his happy trail, where it connected to the base of his shaft. A doggy-like whine escaped his lips as he began to wrap his finger around it and slowly moved up.

“S-shit Mmfff! Please…A-aahh use me master.”

Wet noises soon started echoing around the room and the hallway, accompanying the incessant buzzing of electricity. It was a true miracle that Jacce never got a noise complaint since he moved into this house. His neighbor could definitely hear his nightly worshiping session if they went out into their backyard. It's not like he was loud on purpose, but when it came to the object of his affection he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It made him wonder on some occasions if he didn’t end up in a neighborhood full of perverts that loved listening to his lewd activities. At this point, his legs had started shaking violently from how sensitive he was, making him lean more against the wall for support.

“I’m just a dumb little puppy for y-you, t-touching my-myself everyday …Nnhg.”

He arched his back as his hand stroked his cock at a higher speed, crying out for them desperately. His imagination couldn’t settle on one vision. He kept switching from images of them bouncing on his cock to them bobbing their head up and down on it and even having them fuck his little ass raw. He only slowed down his movements to run his thumb under the foreskin of its head, filling his brain with an other wave of pleasure. 

“I’m a… greedy little mutt, so Uugh so greedy.” 

He cursed at himself under his breath for having such lewd fantasies about the person he loved, which turned him on even more. Precum was abundantly leaking out of the tip of his dick now, resembling pearly water drops. Wanting more, he used his free hand to reach under his turtleneck and pinched at his nipples. Jacce bullied the poor thing by twisting it between is fingers. He couldn’t help but shiver from the stimulation he was giving himself. 

“I j-just Unnf want to b-be yours.”

He sincerely wanted them to use him, ravage him even, but he also yearned for the sensations his darling would give his body. They would be so good for him just like he would be for them. 

Despite the fact that he wanted to continue more than anything, it had to last longer. As he felt his climax approaching, Jacce loosened his grip on his shaft. A pathetic whine escaped his lips while he tried to keep himself from cumming. He staggered to his feet, gripping the sink for support. He felt so weak, his legs hardly supporting his weight anymore. Every friction his dick received made him fold in half, prolonging even more his travel to his room. As he continued his journey, a long string of precum was left behind him. He will have clean it later, but for now he didn’t care if he made a mess. In a way, it was part of the fun.

He finally crawled onto the bed, lazily placing a pillow between his legs. It was wrapped with one of y/n stolen hoodies, in other words, his most prized possessions. Jacce winced when the fabric made direct contact with his glistening cock. He closed his eyes, trying to picture them under him, praising him for being able to hold his orgasm. He was being such a good boy for y/n, why couldn’t they see? 

He started humping that thing like the horny mutt he was. His ass wiggling cutely from the incessant movement. Jacce wanted them to see him like this so badly. A pure mess that couldn’t help but make high pitched whines at every trust. 

“I j–just want to cum for you, all f–for you.” He mumbled, while tears rolled down his face, cheek flushed. 

His cock was so sensitive, giving him the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. He wasn’t capable of closing his mouth anymore, drool leaking out of it like a waterfall. Jacce tried to keep up the speed as he chased his inevitable climax.

“Master, I'm c-cumming, A-ah… I'm cumming! I… l-love you!” He cried out while thrusting his hips forward uncontrollably, shooting hot ropes of cum all over the pillow. 

After falling face first onto the bed, he pulled it up to his chest, cradling the dirty hoodie as if it was really them, but ultimately it wasn’t enough. He was just too impatient to tease himself for an extended period of time. In addition, the desire to cum and becoming dumb for a few seconds was way too alluring. Jacce was sure that if he was with y/n, they would edge him way longer than what he could ever do. 

He knew for a fact that's what they would do, since, one time at the cafe, he had the chance to watch them enter the code on their computer. With that crucial information he was able to open it when he broke into their house came unannounced. He was stunned when he saw the tags of the spicy fanfiction his precious darling reads. They both had the same taste in terms of kinky sex. Another proof to fill his delusion that he was destined to be theirs. 

As he laid there, tired and dazed, he thought about how nice it would be to be enveloped by their smell. He took a big breath into the hoodie. Yay it lost the particular scent he was looking for. He knew it was wrong, but maybe he could pay them a “visit”…just to feel a bit closer. Jacce looked at the clock. He still had time to do it before they arrived at their apartment. 

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Even if I only post it now, this was actually the first yandere story I ever wrote, back in september of 2023, so the writing maybe be less good than my other stuff!

This story will also be posted on my ao3 account

Plus an old drawing I made back then for this chapter

[pucksandpower]

Ice Queen: Ice Princess

Kimi Räikkönen x daughter!Reader

(Future) Max Verstappen x Räikkönen!Reader

Summary: before taking F1 by storm as the Ice Queen, you rose up the ranks of single-seater racing (a prologue of sorts)

Series Masterlist

How It All Began: Age 5

The air smells of rubber and petrol as you approach the karting track, your small hand wrapped securely in your father’s. His face is a mask of nonchalance but the slight tug of his lips gives away his excitement.

You look up at him, mirroring his stoic expression. “Papa, is this like your big car?”

Kimi glances down, raising an eyebrow. “Sort of but smaller. And no fancy buttons.”

You stare at the kart, then back at him, your tiny face serious. “Will it go brrr?”

He laughs, a sound seldom heard by the media but common enough for you. ��Yes, it will go brrr.”

Placing you into the seat, he starts explaining the basics. “This is the steering wheel. It’s what you use to turn the kart.”

You grab it, imitating every race start you’ve seen. “Like this?” You make a vroom sound.

He chuckles. “Exactly. And remember, it’s not just about going fast. It’s about control.”

You squint at the track then back at him. “Will there be red flags?”

“No, no red flags today. Just us,” he says, fighting back a grin.

You nod sagely, taking in the information. “Okay, Papa. But what if someone wants to overtake?”

He leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “Then you do what I do.”

You pause in a replica of Kimi’s thoughtful pose. “Don’t let them?”

He winks, “Exactly.”

After strapping you in securely, he shows you how to start the kart and you begin to drive. The wind rustles your hair and excitement bubbles as you make your way around the track for the first time.

He shouts after you, “Hold the wheel tight!”

“I know what I’m doing!” You yell back.

As you circle back to him, he crouches down, ready to help you stop the kart. “So, how was it?”

You smirk, “Okay, I guess.”

He pulls you into a hug. “You really are just like me, aren’t you?”

You beam up at him, pride evident in your young eyes. “Yep, Papa. We’re a team.”

He ruffles your hair, a soft smile on his lips. “The best team.”

Signing with Prema Racing: Age 16

“Sixteen and in Formula 3, huh?” Kimi muses, sipping his coffee as he leans against the kitchen counter. “When I was sixteen, I think I was—”

“Chasing snowmobiles in Finland?” You interrupt, smirking as you take a bite of your toast.

Your father rolls his eyes playfully. “Very funny. So, Prema?”

You nod, trying to play it cool but your excitement still shines through. “Yeah, they want me for next season.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Moving up from F4 to F3 is a big transition. It’s faster, more competitive.���

You lean against the counter opposite him, mimicking his casual stance. “I know, Papa. More buttons.”

Your father chuckles, “A lot more buttons. And more media.”

You groan, “Oh, not the media. Can’t I just drive?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried that approach,” Kimi smirks. “But they’re like mosquitoes. Persistent and out for blood.”

You consider this for a moment. “Maybe I can give one-word answers like you do?”

He grins, “It’s an art form. But sure, give it a try.”

A notification pings on your phone. It’s an email from Prema, detailing your training sessions and media days. “Speaking of which,” you show the screen to Kimi, “Media training next week.”

Kimi makes a face, “A room full of people teaching you how to not be yourself.”

You laugh, “Should I tell them I already have all the training I need from the master himself?”

He winks, “They won’t know what hit them.”

You put your dishes in the sink, your thoughts racing ahead to the upcoming season. “You think I’ll do well, Papa?”

Your father walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder. His face is serious but his eyes are warm. “I know you will. Remember to enjoy the journey, not just the destination.”

You smile, pulling him into a hug, “Thanks, Papa. I promise to make you proud.”

He hugs you back, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, “You already have.”

Formula 3: Age 16

The roar of engines, the buzzing of the crowd, the palpable tension in the air — this is it. Your first Formula 3 race.

“So,” your father begins, leaning against your garage, “Nervous?”

You shoot him a look, trying to channel his signature coolness. “Do I look nervous?”

He tilts his head, a playful smirk growing. “You’re fidgeting with your gloves. You never do that.”

You glance down at your hands and laugh, “Okay, maybe a little. But can you blame me?”

Kimi shrugs, “It’s your first F3 race. If you weren’t at least a bit nervous, I would think you’re a robot.”

A rival driver, Dan, walks by, giving you a condescending wink. “Ready to eat my dust?”

You roll your eyes, matching his bravado with ease. “Only dust I’ll be seeing is from the podium.”

Your father snorts, “Well played.”

After a few minutes, it’s time to suit up. As you’re putting on your helmet, Kimi leans in close, his voice firm yet comforting. “Remember, it’s not just about speed. Strategy matters. Don’t be rash. You know what to do and how to race smart.”

You smirk, “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

He grins, patting your helmet, “Just checking.”

As you settle into your car, the weight of the moment hits you. All the years, the training, the early mornings, and late nights — it lead to this.

The race is a blur of adrenaline. Overtakes, near misses, and strategy calls. Every now and then, you hear your father’s voice in your earpiece, offering advice or just the occasional sarcastic remark. You’re not sure how legal that is but Kimi has never been one to care much for authority.

You pass the checkered flag, a respectable fourth place finish in your first race.

Pulling back in, you climb out of your car both exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure. Your father approaches, a proud smile on his face. “Fourth place! That’s solid.”

You lean against your car, catching your breath. “Could’ve been better.”

Kimi raises an eyebrow, “Could’ve been worse.”

You laugh, “Always the optimist?”

He smirks, “Always realistic.”

A reporter approaches, mic in hand. “Quick word about your first race in F3?”

You channel your inner Kimi, giving the shortest answer possible. “It was fine.”

The reporter blinks, taken aback by your brevity. “Oh, um, any challenges?”

You shrug, “It’s racing. There are always challenges.”

Your father, watching from the side, can’t contain his laughter. As the reporter leaves, slightly flustered, he walks over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You really are my daughter.”

You grin, “Was there ever any doubt?”

Moving Up to Formula 2: Age 18

“Papa,” you begin as you both lounge in the living room, “I have news.”

Your father looks up from his magazine, one eyebrow raised in expectation. “You finally cleaned your room?”

You roll your eyes. “No. And thanks for the vote of confidence. I got the call. I’m moving up to Formula 2!”

He sets the magazine down, his eyes scanning your face. “That’s big. Ready for it?”

You shrug nonchalantly, a gesture you picked up from him. “It’s just another race car, right?”

Kimi chuckles, “In a faster race car. With even more buttons.”

You groan dramatically, “Great. Just what I needed. More buttons.”

He smirks, “You’ll manage. You always do.”

Training days for F2 are intense. New circuits, new challenges, and, of course, more media attention. As you take a break between testing sessions, your father walks over with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” you take a long sip of it.

He leans against a nearby wall, watching the other drivers on the track. “How does the car feel?”

You pause to think about it. “A bit more aggressive than the F3. But I’ll adapt.”

Kimi nods, “I know you will.”

A few days later, it is time for your first F2 race. The pit lane is a frenzy of activity with teams making last-minute checks and media personnel swarming about. As you are getting ready to climb into your car, a reporter thrusts a microphone in your face.

“Your first race in F2! Nervous about the competition?”

You don’t miss a beat, “No. They should be nervous about me.”

Your father tries to suppress a laugh but fails miserably. The reporter seems slightly taken aback, “Any personal strategies for today’s race?”

You look straight into the camera, “Drive fast. Don’t crash.”

The reporter, slightly flustered, thanks you and moves on. Kimi has never looked prouder.

The race is a whirlwind of excitement. The faster cars, the tighter competition, it’s all exhilarating. You don’t finish first but you hold your own, making some impressive overtakes and defending your position fiercely.

Your father glares at a cameraman until he turns the lens away from the two of you and then pulls you into a tight hug. “Not bad, rookie.”

You smirk, “Rookie? I’ve been racing since I was five, remember?”

He chuckles, ruffling your sweaty hair, “Yeah but this is F2. Welcome to the big leagues.”

You melt further into him, soaking the moment up. “Thanks, Papa. Here’s to many more races.”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “And many more one-liners.”

Formula 2 Champion: Age 19

“So,” your father starts, watching as you prepare for the final race of the F2 season, “are you ready to make history today?”

You smirk, pulling on your gloves. “History is just another record waiting to be broken.”

Kimi chuckles, “You really have a line for everything.”

You shoot him a mock glare, "Look who’s talking.”

The race is a high-stakes event. You lead the championship but need a win today to cement your position and make you the first woman to claim the F2 title.

The cars roar to life and you can almost taste the tension in the pit lane. Your father leans in, his voice steady despite the chaos all around you. “Drive like you always do. Focused and fearless.”

You nod in determination. “Got it, Papa.”

The race is an intense battle of strategy, speed, and skill. Every overtake, every defensive maneuver, every millisecond counts. When you see the checkered flag waving and cross the finish line in first place, the weight of your achievement truly begins to sink in.

Emerging from your car, you swiftly climb onto the nose and raise your arms triumphantly, soaking in the jubilation around you. The barriers surrounding parc fermé are immediately swarmed by your team and reporters, but through the crowd, you spot your father. The pride in his eyes is unmistakable and he even smiles publicly despite all the cameras undoubtably capturing the moment. He pushes through, pulling you into a tight hug as the team erupts in cheers around you.

“You did it,” his voice is uncharacteristically choked with emotion.

You grin, pulling back to look at him. “We did it.”

The post-race interview is a blur of questions about your historic win but one question stands out. “How does it feel to be the first woman to win the F2 championship?”

With a sly glance towards your father, you reply, “I didn’t set out to be the first woman to win it. I set out to win it.”

Your father lets out a loud laugh, drawing the attention of the reporters much to his chagrin. They turn their mics to him, “Kimi, thoughts on your daughter's achievement?”

He looks at you, his signature deadpan expression in place, “She’s okay, I guess.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully, but the hint of a smile remaining on his face despite the media surrounding both of you reveals his pride.

The celebration that night is a mix of laughter, vodka, and memories. As you both sit, watching the team revel in the moment, Kimi turns to you. “I always knew you had it in you. But seeing it ... seeing you out there today … I’m beyond proud.”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder as the liquor begins to take its toll. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Papa.”

When You Really Made It: Age 19

“You’re looking at that paper like it’s written in another language,” your father comments while sipping his morning coffee.

You glance up, the dual contracts from Red Bull Racing and Scuderia AlphaTauri spread out on the desk in front of you. “Sure feels like it. Formula 1! Can you believe it?”

He smirks, “Considering you’re my daughter and I taught you everything you know? Absolutely.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “How modest of you, Papa.”

A knock on the door interrupts the moment. It’s Christian Horner and Franz Tost. "Ready to discuss the details?"

You look to Kimi, who gives a nod. “Let’s do it.”

As the team principals explains the nuances, clauses, and expectations, you occasionally exchange amused glances with your father, particularly when terms get overly convoluted.

After they leave, you sink into a chair, decidedly overwhelmed. “This is big.”

Kimi sits across from you. “It’s a step up. But it’s where you belong.”

You look at the contract again and then at your father. “Think I can handle the pressure?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Are you asking me or telling me?”

You smirk, “Maybe a bit of both.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The next few days are a whirlwind of race suit fittings, team briefings, and media obligations. The latter being your least favorite part.

During one press conference, a reporter asks, “How does it feel to be following in your father’s footsteps?”

You press your lips together, “I’m not. I’m making my own.”

Another inquires, “Any fears about competing at this level?”

You shoot him a deadpan look, “Fear is for the drivers who see me coming in their mirrors.”

Kimi, watching from a shadowed corner, struggles to keep a straight face and walks up to you with the tiniest of smiles that anyone else would miss after the presser, “You really have a knack for this.”

You smile back, “I learned from the best.”

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @ilovedreming @jamie2305 @reidsworld @notyouraveragemochii @faithm120601

[0-n-1-x]

I positively ADORED the artist!reader x Damian, but I was wondering, do you have any ideas for photographer!reader and Damian? Please and thank you

tysm!! I actually was thinking about photographer!reader before so I have some do have some ideas!!

link to my masterlist <33

-I'd think that you would definitely be on yearbook or photography club at gotham academy.

-you and Damian meet during a school event where you're the unofficial photographer for your class. You’re snapping pictures for the yearbook, capturing moments of your classmates having fun. Damian, is off to the side, observing. When you spot him, something about his intense gaze and aloof demeanor intrigues you, so you decide to snap a quick photo of him.

-Damian notices you taking his picture and approaches you, questioning why you’d photograph him without permission. You apologize and explain that you’re just trying to capture everyone at the event. Despite his initial irritation, he’s impressed by your honesty and the way you confidently stand your ground. This sparks his interest, leading to more conversations between you two.

-Damian becomes protective of you, especially when he sees how focused you get during your shoots. If you’re out taking photos in risky areas of Gotham or staying out late to get the perfect shot, Damian insists on accompanying you, not wanting you to be alone in dangerous situations. If you go by yourself, best believe you're getting watched over by Robin that evening

-you guys definitely collaborate on creative projects. He’ll sketch something and you’ll try to capture it through photography, or you’ll take a photo, and he’ll interpret it through his art. It’s a unique partnership that brings out the best in both of your talents.

-Damian isn’t big on public displays of affection, but he shows his love in subtle ways. He’ll hold your hand when you’re walking together, guide you protectively through crowds, or rest his hand on your lower back. In private, he’s more open, often pulling you into gentle embraces and kissing your forehead or temple. You support this more than another person would, because you understand paparazzi, and journalism partially (sometimes you even pose when you guys are in public)

-Damian is your biggest supporter when it comes to your photography. He’ll attend every exhibition, help you find new locations to shoot, and like I said in Artistic!reader he'll even use his connections to get you access to exclusive places.

-You and Damian enjoy exploring Gotham together, often venturing into different neighborhoods to find hidden gems for your photography. Damian, being familiar with the city’s ins and outs, knows the best rooftops for skyline shots and the quietest parks for candid moments. These adventures become a regular part of your relationship

-Damian isn’t the most traditionally romantic, but he surprises you in his own way. He might bring you a new lens for your camera that he noticed you were eyeing, or leave a bouquet of your favorite flowers on your desk. His gestures are thoughtful and personal, always reflecting how well he knows you.

--Damian’s love language is acts of service and quality time. He shows his affection by doing small things for you, like making sure your camera gear is ready for a shoot or bringing you a coffee when you’re editing late into the night. You reciprocate by always being there for him, providing a safe space where he can be himself without any pretense.

[jealousjealousgurlll]

His fashionista

⠀:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀ ⠀ `· . ୨୧⠀

Hi everyone! This is my first story on Tumblr, I've been wanting to write for awhile especially about Luigi. If there is any flaws or feedback please please please let me know, comments are on!

I have a few extended concepts for certain bullet points, if there one that sticks out the most let me know and I can create an extension on it.

Mood board for this story

Thank you for reading and take care xoxoxoxo ᰔ ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

Pairing: Luigi Mangione x reader

Word count (story only):2,018

Warnings: None just fluff ;)

Imagine you, an inspiring fashion designer falls for the dorky data scientist named Luigi Mangione.

Based on living in Maryland

-First encounter:

Your favorite fabric store is next door to his favorite cafe. Staring at you and your well detailed outfits throughout the window Luigi would be distracted from his work observing you.

The first time you saw him was picking up an order from that same coffee shop. On your way out, you made eye contact with him. Nothing really stood out about him honestly.

Second encounter/first conversation

You were in line to place your order, in the meanwhile you were adding final details to your latest sketch and a tap on your shoulder came to your surprise. He looked familiar, you thought. He asked you about your sketches, talking your head off you both held up the line. After ordering, you and him sat and discussed your interests and careers.

He observed every detail about you, something about his presence swept you in, his intellectual yet humorous personality made you grow curious about him. Before leaving for your meeting, he asks for your phone number and social media handles. 

-Stalking or “obsessively analyzing”

You glanced at Luigi’s instagram, wholesome guy with minimum fashion however he looks great in a suit and with a clean cut.

You became Luigi’s newest fascination, having a fair amount of digital footprint, Luigi observed your instagram first. Trailing back to your high school days posing with friends in art class, your instagram stories had poems you wrote. He even discovered your fashion blog and youtube channel. Reading every post you made and spending hours watching your videos. He took a few notes on your favorite restaurants, your birthday, anything that was sentimental. 

-Texting and facetime

Whenever you guys text, he responds back immediately. He would send you random articles and ask your opinion. One night when texting back and forth, he asked if he can FaceTime you. You agreed which led to a 5 hour conversation. He was wearing glasses and you asked if they were real, to which he said “it’s for fashion”. His witty humor and cheerful spirit made it easy to talk to him

-Hanging out

Luigi initiated most of the hang outs. Secretly he planned everything (how a boyfriend does), from taking a pottery class together, trying new restaurants and going to yoga classes. Hanging out at each other’s apartments eventually came around to which he would clean his apartment, nervous of your opinion. In reality his apartment is organized and fits him perfectly. The compliments and the stares you gave looking around made him feel secure. Luigi loved your apartment, the vibrant colors, the messy table filled with scattered papers, fabric around a plugged in sewing machine. Your apartment is a perfect representation of you!

-Feelings? 

The more time you spent with Luigi, the more you developed feelings for him. When taking a stroll with him, you notice yourself staring at his side profile “I like big noses” . The tik tok audio from Doja Cat appeared in your mind, the curls that formed his hair you found cute. When it was summer, his sunkissed tan complimented him so well . Scanning your eyes up and down, there was definitely physical attraction, the physical attraction and the connection you guys built in the past months made you crush on him in secret. The fear of him not reciprocating the same feelings terrified you. Whenever a few days passed by and you hadn’t seen or spoke to him, you started to miss him and would reach out. Luigi on the other hand, he describes it as “love at first sight” , extremely dramatic and a sprinkle of delusion, he adored your style, the confidences you had when walking into a room. With the connection that was created by you guys, his attraction to you skyrocketed. He also mentioned his feelings he had to you to his sisters, encouraging him to ask you out. His sisters found it precious that he cares so deeply for you.

-Flea market memories

One of your hang out adventures landed you guys in a flea market. One of the vendors that caught your eye had a vintage sweater. In your mind, this sweater would be a great fit for Luigi. You showed  him the sweater and insisted he tried it on. Luigi gave in and tried on, the sweater was a perfect match . The vendor, an older gentleman, said to him “listen to your lady, she knows her fashion” assuming the two of you were in a relationship. Standing behind him, you hugged him from the back Luigi subconsciously smiled at this reaction. He agreed to get the sweater which you couldn’t be happier.

-Train trip

You and Luigi went on a train trip to North Carolina. A nine hour train ride may sound gruesome but having Luigi by your side made this an unforgettable trip. Listening to music together from sharing wired earbuds, stealing each other's snacks. You started to doze off after a few hours in, drifting your head onto Luigi’s shoulder. It wasn’t intentional at all. Luigi didn’t mind, he actually liked it. He smelled the shampoo in your hair, getting a special view of your facial features  “so pretty” he mumbled. When you woke up, you made direct eye contact with Luigi, he giggled at your facial expression while you immediately moved your head out of embarrassment. “I am so sorry” you frantically apologized, “It’s all good” his voice was deep and slowly turned you on. This trip definitely brought you guys closer physically and emotionally, staying in the same room you saw Lu in a different light. He is a clean person. He always puts the toilet seat down after using it. During the visit, you both went hiking together, it was your first time ever and Luigi was basically a pro. He helped you whenever you were close to stumbling, assuring you that you will be just fine. “See I told you it’s not difficult, it’s relaxing right?” Hiking was something you had no interest in but with a little encouragement from your bestie westie, hiking is your newfound  favorite physical activity.

-Hair troubles

One night, you heard a ding on your phone. A text from your contact named“Loo-ee jee” appeared.

“Hey, are you busy?”

Responding back “No what’s up?”

Luigi facetimes you, in distress, discussing his hair problems. He explains that he cannot remember the shampoo he used as a child living at home, he had some event to attend in the afternoon so he wanted to wash his hair and try something different with his curls. He begs for your help and you agree to help him. Meeting him at a “beauty supply store” foreign in his world. You both grabbed some hair care products and went back to your apartment. You guided him through the process of taking care of his curls and even wrote down the step by step manual to follow on his “wash days”. He ended up spending the night because he was a little tippy from the wine he brought over(don’t drink and drive kids). Both of you indulged in a few glasses, he mentioned the wine was from a family member in Italy (hmm exotic you said to yourself). Both of you crashed on your couch, he laid in your lap wrapped in a large fuzzy blanket. You woke in the middle of the night to see Lulu in your lap, you liked it. He looked well rested and comfortable. This entire night wasn’t supposed to happen actually. Luigi faked his cries for help solely because he missed you and wanted to do something more intimate with you. You never realized if he was legit hearing about his mishaps you just wanted to help your friend.

-Styling Lulu

At Luigi’s apartment, you joked about his style playfully. “I bet in your closet you have no more than 5 things including your blue bali shirt, adidas hoodie, a random slightly used button down shirt and your Upenn shirt”. He rolled his eyes and tried to laugh because it was true. His fashion can be described as low minimum, he didn’t really care about having a surplus of clothing or being the most fashionable in the room. Fashion was foreign to him, while it was your way of life. He asks you to help with his style and you were treating this as a project. Spending some time in the downtown area to shop, you and Luigi went shopping. Stopping in the first store, you immediately see something with potential. Grabbing short sleeve crew necks in different colors, picking up the shirt to hold up to Luigi you were thinking this is a good start. Solid basic shirts yet it is upgraded to his current style. Intentionally you picked up the shirts a size down because you wanted to see Luigi’s muscles pop out. Picking out the casual black and white, you also grabbed a plum(deep purple) shirt and an olive green. Luigi liked the colors you picked for him and made a purchase. The next store you found many gems for him, a few pairs of vintage Levi’s jeans fitting him perfectly, an upgraded adidas hoodie, grey nike sweatpants, some linen shorts and even a Upenn varsity jacket. Dropping you off to your place, before walking out of his car Luigi thanks you for your help and leans in for a hug. The hug was warm and made you feel fuzzy inside, pulling away your cheeks turned red. He stayed parked until you made it to the elevator, turning around one last time to wave to him and even blew a kiss. He caught your kiss and motioned, putting it close to his heart.

-Making it official 

After befriending Luigi Mangione for an entire year. You expressed your feelings to him, it was difficult because of the fear of rejection. His reaction was something out of a fairytale, he reciprocated the same feelings you had for him. About a week after this conversation he planned a dinner for the both of you. It was at a contemporary sushi place, the architecture and interior design  in the building was seductive, lowly dinned lights and chirper music played. Luigi arrived with a bouquet of purple and white flowers. Your eyes beamed with joy to see them, he made a note from watching one of your youtube videos that purple and white are your favorite colors for flowers. He was wearing the same sweatshirt he got at the flea market, his hair was freshly washed and cut and added a detailed watch to his outfit. Smiling from ear to ear when you saw him wrapping your arms around him felt peaceful, a similar feeling to home. You guys talked and talked, a few cheesy but cute pick up lines were said to you. Luigi’s words were blissful, constantly wanting to make you laugh. Finishing up your entree, the waiter came to your table and said “Dessert?” replying back “No thank you”, Luigi replied “Yes, your best dessert”. A few minutes pass and the waiter places down a white plate in front of you. There was chocolate writing on the plate, reading off it says “Will you be my girlfriend?” with macaroons and chocolate covered strawberries. Coming to you as a sweet surprise you look up at Luigi with a nervous smile he says “So what do you say?” . Licking your lips before responding you say “Yes I would love to”. He smiles and balls his fist to say a silent “Yes” out of pride. He came over to your side of the booth to embrace you with your first kiss with him. His lips were smooth and gilded gently with yours, a little tongue was added by you and he loved it. When walking out of the restaurant to your car, you were on cloud nine. Luigi besides you holding your hand he opens your car door and says “Goodnight girlfriend” you smile at his words and say “Bye bye boyfriend”.

[koolades-world]

Hey there! I'd Like to request something. So like, MC is an Artist (Style doesn't matter they just have to draw humanoid things) and then they draw the brothers+dateables in their style, what would the reaction be?

hello! sure thing :)

I myself am admittedly not a very good artist, which is my my preferred art form is writing. the only time I draw is usually during gartic phone games with friends, and thanks to my franticness under a time limit it's always very chaotic. but at this point I've just embraced it and it's always funny

enjoy!

Artist Mc

Lucifer

you draw him while he's seated at the dinner table on a saturday morning while he's reading the newspaper and enjoying a coffee

not that you didn't intend to show him, but suddenly he was leaning over your shoulder, staring, and it caught you off guard

as you scramble to explain, he just smiles and sits back down in his chair and goes back to what he was doing to keep being you model

once you're done, he asks if he can at least have a copy to keep, which in itself is a huge compliment, but it's so he can think of you every time he looks at it 🥺

Mammon

during class, he happened to look super cute as always while looking wistfully out a nearby window a few rows in front of you and the lesson was getting boring anyways. next to your notes, you begin to doodle him, using highlighters for color

you forget it's there and lend him that very notebook since he had tuned out that same lesson

once he opens it, he seems himself and doesn't know how to react. he's a babbling, red mess

once he regains motor functions, he shakily declares that it's very becoming of the Great Mammon and that you did a great job. success!

Levi

the two of you are hanging out in his room. he's playing a ruri game and you're lounging behind him, sketching on a bean bag

you're not drawing anything in particular and were searching for an idea when suddenly, the idea found you

levi wasn't paying attention to you, so you could easily look at him and ruri, and sketch them side by side in matching outfits

once he stops for a moment to get a snack, you happily show him the drawing and he does the demon equivalent of blue screening. give him a minute to reboot then try again haha

Satan

when you decided to draw him, the two of you were seating together, with you in his lap while he read a book so he saw the drawing from it's first line to it's last

made positive comments about it the entire time, like about how you captured the green of his eyes perfectly, or telling you his hair looked better in the picture than it did in real life

at some point, he stopped pretending to read the book and sat watching you with his chin on your shoulder

he added cute little notes around it once you were done with little hearts around them

Asmo

he's asked you to draw him jokingly a few times, but never expected you to actually do it the next time he asked

when you tell him if he wants, he can pick something else to wear, he almost strips down so you can draw him nude but you stop him as soon as he started to take his shirt off

he scurried away and was back quickly in a new outfit, and posed how he would for a picture

talks to you basically the entire time you draw, and once you're done, he squeezes you into a tight hug and asks if he can post it on his Devilgram

Beel

after joining him enough times for Fangol practice, you knew it well enough to begin making sketches of him as he practiced

drawing him in action was a little challenging since he never held still, but you were determined

you drew a few since his practice went on longer that day, and got to proudly show him the results

he was equally as proud of you since he thought you did a great job. he asks if he can have one, and if you give it to him, you'll find it hanging up next to his bed next to all his Fangol trophies <3

Belphie

he's an easy model to draw thanks to his lethargy, so you often find yourself sketching him

something about his peaceful nature and natural frosted tips was just so drawable, so you had at least a few pages full of him napping in various positions with different blankets

one time, he wakes up while you're next to him drawing, and is a little shocked in a good way. he didn't know you viewed him that highly

he's still half asleep, so he just compliments your artwork and moves to lay his head on your lap, then falls back asleep, ensuring you're the flustered one now

[just1cefor4ll]

—You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

—modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. not proof read, might be OOC, swearing

part one || part two || part three

‼️A/N. if anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this fic, let me know!! ‼️

‘I need someome to show me the things

in life that I can’t find.’

With a loud thud, Powder burst into the room, stumbling over her own feet and nearly causing your morning coffee to spill all over your art project—a project due in just under a week. "Powder! Jesus—slow down!" you exclaimed, letting out a frustrated groan as you steadied your coffee mug. Taking a long sip to steady your nerves, you swiveled in your desk chair to face her, one brow raised in curiosity. "So, what’s got you in such a rush?"

Powder was practically vibrating with excitement, her energy contagious enough to turn your initial annoyance into amusement. "You know that café with the whole vintage, 80s vibe you’ve been dying to visit?" she began, her tone filled with anticipation. Immediately, your ears perked up, and your confusion began to shift into hope. “Yeah, what about it? They’re always booked solid. Did something happen?” Instead of answering, she squealed with delight and shoved her phone in front of your face. On the screen was a reservation confirmation—a table for eight at 12 o’clock.

Your eyes widened as you did a double take. “No way.” Checking the time, you saw you had exactly an hour and fifteen minutes to get ready. Without hesitation, you pulled Powder into a quick hug and kissed her forehead before running off to prepare.

As you enter the bathroom you decide to style your hair in the way you always did for special occasions. It was a routine you knew by heart, and the familiarity calmed your excitement enough to let you focus. Opening your chaotic closet, you scanned its contents and grabbed the first outfit that caught your eye. You layered it with accessories that reflected your personal style before glancing at the clock. "Forty-five minutes," you muttered, impressed with your speed. Thankfully, waking up early to shower and do your skincare routine meant you had saved yourself a lot of stress—a rare victory you silently thanked your past self for.

Powder, now pacing the dorm trying to think of what to get at the café, noticed you were ready and practically dragged you to the full-length mirror she had insisted on bringing to your shared space earlier in the semester.

"Wait! Stay still," she commanded, snapping a quick picture of the two of you. You struck a playful pose at the last second, making her giggle as she added the picture to her camera roll, no doubt planning to post it later along with the many already planned ahead photo ideas she had in mind.

Powder grinned and grabbed your hand, practically bouncing out the door as you both made your way toward what promised to be an unforgettable day.

Oh and unforgettable it was.

You arrived at the subway station and met up with everyone— except Mel and Jayce who decided they’d go by car since it was the best possible option for them as they were out earlier that morning and were just 10 minutes away from your destination.

Viktor was seated next to you while the others had run off to find a place to sit in the packed space which had been a bit uncomfortable since everyone was standing body to body and god knows how many pervs were lurking around. You absentmindedly scooted closer to Viktor, bumping into his cane which almost hit the person standing next to you before you luckily caught it. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I wasn’t thinking straight— shit, is it damaged or anything? I’ll buy you whatever you please at that cafe, I’m sorry.” You stuttered out, earning a teasing grin from Viktor. “No harm done, but if you’re offering..” You breathe out a relieved sigh, chuckling sheepishly; “I mean I don’t mind getting you something. It could be like a thanks for listening to me and my band play.” And with that, it was settled.

When the train pulled into your stop, everyone spilled out onto the platform. Ekko stumbled dramatically, throwing his arms up as if he’d just escaped certain doom. "Oh my god fresh air!" he exclaimed, drawing laughter from the group. “Alright, let’s go," Vi said in a commanding tone. "We’ve got twenty minutes until our reservation, so move it, squirts, and Vik." She said, Powder flipping her off as a faint; “Hey! Why’d you leave Viktor out of your pathetic try at an insult?” could be heard as all of them climbed up the stairs ahead of you and the man mentioned.

The walk to the café was surprisingly quiet, save for Powder and Ekko’s chatter. Viktor’s cane tapped rhythmically against the pavement, a sound that seemed to echo in the silence. You fiddled with your sleeves absentmindedly, still replaying your earlier clumsiness in your mind. Noticing your fidgeting, Viktor broke the silence. "I heard you’ve been wanting to visit this place since the start of the semester," he said, his tone more observational than questioning. You looked at him, caught slightly off guard by his comment. "Yeah," you admitted, your voice softening. "I’ve always loved the vibe. It’d be a dream to play there, but it’s just one of those things that probably won’t happen." Viktor frowned slightly at your words. "Why not? You’ve got the talent. And, dare I say, a very charming personality. There’s no doubt you could swoon the manager over and into giving you a gig—maybe even by next week."

His confidence in you made your cheeks flush, a shy smile spreading across your face. "Viktor, you really have a way with words it’s truly admirable," you said with a laugh. "You know, you’re the kind of person they’d write rock songs about."

Before he could respond, you giggled and darted ahead to catch up with the rest of the group, who were now gathered at the café’s entrance. Viktor watched you go, a faint smile playing at his lips before he made his way over to where Jayce and Mel were waiting.

The café was a dream come to life. Warm signs flickered gently against the dark wood walls, and the faint crackle of vinyl played on an old jukebox in the corner. Every detail—from the checkered floor to the vintage records and trinkets on the shelves.. it all felt so unreal. The stained glass also added on to the whole vibe, the colourful glass reflecting the suns beautiful rays onto the floor, walls and even booths giving it that magical touch.

You couldn’t help but smile as you took it all in. Powder was already snapping pictures with her phone, Ekko leaning into the frame and striking goofy poses. Caitlyn and Vi claimed the booth’s corner seats, their hands brushing as they shared a menu. Jayce and Mel arrived shortly after, bringing the group all together.

The energy was vibrant, the table filled with overlapping conversations and laughter as everyone admired the café’s welcoming and cozy aura. Viktor took a seat beside you again, his quiet presence somehow grounding amidst all the noise.

"See?" Powder beamed, nudging your shoulder. "Worth the rush, right?" "Totally," you admitted, leaning back and savoring the moment. "This place is amazing." As everyone placed their orders, Viktor leaned slightly toward you, his voice low so only you could hear. "Do you still think playing here is just a dream?" His question caught you off guard. You looked at him, unsure of how to respond. "I mean... yeah? It’s not like places like this to just hand out gigs to random people. I doubt they’d want a rock band playing here anyway.. especially not college students.” He let your words sink in for a while before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Who knows. Sometimes you just need the right connections to make things happen.”

Before you could press him on what he meant, the food and drinks arrived, and the table erupted into excitement. Plates of waffles, milkshakes, coffee and a whole bunch of other delicious dishes were passed around, each one looking like it had stepped straight out of a retro diner ad.

Ekko was the first to dive in, immediately stealing a bite from Powder’s plate. "Hey!" she protested, smacking his hand away with a laugh. Everyone dug in and continued their conversations, you yourself indulging in a conversation with Mel and Jayce who were curious about your career choice and major which you were more then happy to talk about. They stared in awe as you explained how you met each member and how you all formed the band, Powder and Ekko later joining in and as did Caitlyn.

At some point, Viktor excused himself, disappearing for a whole 15 minutes but you decided to let it go, indulging in whatever topic your friends had brought up.

When Viktor returned, he wore an expression that was far too pleased with himself. You raised an eyebrow, but he simply shrugged and slid back into his seat, redirecting the conversation effortlessly.

The group lingered at the café for over an hour, soaking in the atmosphere and sharing stories. When it finally was time to leave, you felt a pang of reluctance but pushed it aside, grateful for the experience.

As the group made their way out, Viktor fell into step beside you. "You might want to keep your calendar clear for next weekend," he said casually, his tone light but meaningful. You frowned, confused. "Why?" "Let’s just say you’ll need it free," he replied cryptically, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You wanted to press him for more details, but the others were already calling for you to catch up. The walk back was just as lively as before, Powder and Ekko bickering playfully while Vi and Caitlyn walked hand in hand.

All the while, Viktor’s words echoed in your mind, sparking a tiny ember of excitement you couldn’t quite extinguish.

The days that followed Viktor’s very vague message had you up and restless all night. You tried to keep yourself busy—between classes, band practice, and working on your art project, you thought you could distract yourself with but Viktor’s words lingered like a riddle you couldn’t solve.

Powder was no help either. “You’re overthinking it,” she said casually one night as you both sat in your dorm. “Am I?” you asked, strumming a chord on your guitar. “He tells me to keep my calendar clear and then refuses to explain anything. How am I not supposed to think about it?” Powder shrugged, lying back on her bed with her phone in hand. “Look, maybe it’s something cool, or maybe it’s just Viktor being, y’know, Viktor. Either way, freaking out isn’t gonna help.”

You sighed, knowing she was right, but it didn’t stop the curiosity from eating at you. Viktor was too intentional, too precise for this to be random. Whatever he had planned, it wasn’t something small.

By Wednesday, your patience had worn thin. After class, you spotted Viktor in the library, surrounded by notes and his laptop, indulged in his work. Deciding you couldn’t wait any longer, you walked over and slid into the seat across from him. He looked up, mildly surprised but not displeased. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He smirked, knowing exactly why you were there.

“You know exactly why I’m here,” you said, folding your arms. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “Do I?” “You’ve been playing this weird game of mystery all week,” you said, exasperated. “Come on, just spill it already. What’s going on?” Viktor chuckled softly, amused by your little outburst. “You’re impatient,” he observed. “Yeah, and you’re avoiding the question,” you shot back, brows furrowed with annoyance.

Viktor’s smirk widened slightly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Perhaps. But where’s the fun in revealing everything so soon?” You narrowed your eyes at him, torn between frustration and curiosity. “You know, not everyone enjoys playing your shitty guessing games, Viktor.” He leaned forward, resting his hands lightly on his cane. “And yet, here you are, thoroughly invested.”

You opened your mouth to retort but stopped, realizing he was right. “Fine,” you said with a resigned sigh, leaning back in your chair. “But if this turns out to be some overhyped bullshit, I swear to god Viktor I’ll smash my guitar against your head.” You said, of course not meaning the petty threat seariously since guitars were hella expensive but you definitely were annoyed.

Viktor’s chuckle deepened, the corners of his mouth twitching in a rare, genuine smile. “Noted. But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed rockstar.”

taglist: @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

I DON’T CONSENT FOR MY WRITING TO BE USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

[verysium]

how bllk boys would react when u draw them, could either be rlly good or rlly SHIT u choose idk (plz include barou and the itoshi bros) 😊😊😊 i love you and ur works, and the way u write the boys and ur content makes me laugh fr, one of my fave bllk authors mwjahaja 😓 have a great day, ily:3 and the icks post made me smile like all of ur posts do!

thank you so much anon ♡ this ask had me contemplating very seriously, so apologies if it's a bit late:

sae is definitely awestruck in some way, even if he doesn't immediately show it. i think i talked about this in a previous headcanon, but he has a deep-seated admiration for artists who can grasp abstract concepts because he himself cannot. he would be somewhat flattered if you drew him since he's never considered his own appearance to be particularly inspiring. would be appalled if you considered him your muse. like....why? to him, his looks aren't anything of importance (clearly he is blind.) would probably say your drawing was inaccurate but then hang it up by his nightstand so he can look at it every night before he goes to sleep. if you're a full-time artist, he probably keeps a little stash of your gifts in a small box beneath his bed. sometimes if he's having a bad day or he lost a game, he goes back and flips through them just to make himself feel better. secretly loves the way you draw his bangs and the little swoop you do in your signature.

kaiser corrects every single detail in your drawing. stands behind you and gives you little pointers here and there. he should have an 8-pack, not a 6-pack. his jawline isn't sharp enough in your initial sketch. poses shirtless in front of you so that way you can encapsulate the full extent of his sexiness. shows off your drawing to every living creature in existence. "isn't he handsome?" like...🙄 yeah, michael we know. he's probably the hardest to draw because of his tattoo, so i think he genuinely appreciates it when you put in the effort to capture his intricacies. will never admit this but he's low-key proud of you and your talent (mostly just your ability to make him look good.)

rin is one of those people who doesn't understand hyperrealism. like why does he need a highly detailed sketch of his face when he can just take a photo and print it out? i don't think he understands art in general. probably despises modern art too. he'd take one look at a rothko painting and be like....i could draw this too...in my sleep. similar to sae, i feel like he's just numb to the sentimentality of gift-giving. doesn't understand why you would waste your time drawing a little picture of him, but it does make his heart feel strangely fuzzier, so maybe he'll keep it this one time. lo and behold, months later he now has a collection of your drawings he doesn't have the heart to throw away. refuses to let isagi or anyone see them because they're meant for his eyes only.

yukimiya has impeccable taste. in fact, he's probably an artist himself. i think it'd be cute if you both drew little sketches of each other throughout the course of your relationship. but neither of you ever knew until you gifted him your sketchbook for christmas, and he was like....guess what...i drew you too. thinks you're pretty even when you don't think so. sometimes when you're having a coffee shop date, he scribbles a portrait of you on his napkin because the sunlight hit your cheek just right in that moment, and the birds were chirping, and he fell in love all over again. i think it's also tragic that he's slowly losing his eyesight, so he won't be able to enjoy your drawings and the vibrant colors you infuse into them. that's why he treasures them even more. probably thumbs over the pages from time to time. memorizes every stroke and line.

isagi likes the way you always draw that little tuft of hair that sticks up on the top of his head. it looks like a cute little bean sprout. he pins your drawings up above his bed next to a polaroid of you two in germany. buys you a professional art set for your birthday. if you're a digital artist, he buys you a new tablet and stylus.

bachira adds his own doodles next to yours except he makes a chibi version of everything. always pesters you to include his little fangs. uses the boldest combination of colors. he would definitely be a messy artist. paint everywhere. fingernails perpetually stained a different color. you both draw during class, so when you two trade notebooks to actually study......there aren't any actual notes.

barou acts like he doesn't know what to do with your drawing of him but then the next day you visit his house, and he's already put your artwork in a fancy picture frame. refuses to let anyone else even stand within a ten meter radius next to it because he doesn't want their "nasty fingerprints" all over your beautiful masterpiece.

[maya-caffrey]

hi hi hi writing request if you're up for it: can i get a neal caffrey x reader where they're undercover posing as a couple and things get too real too quick? fluffy angsty whatever, full creative liberty. thank you x -🌻

anon i would love to

This ain't the Chelsea hotel

pairing: neal caffrey x fem!reader words: 4.3k song: I'm writing this inspired by ttpd as you can tell, specifically the lyric "At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger And put it on the one people put wedding rings on And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding" summary: an undercover mission brings up some unresolved feelings a/n: this is sorta inspired by johnny and dora from Brooklyn 99, and there's sort of an angst ending i am sorry but it will get better soon i promise

"Neal and (Y/n), you’re going in as a couple.”

Peter’s voice was calm, authoritative, as if he’d just assigned them to file paperwork instead of infiltrating a high-society gala crawling with millionaires, con artists, and, somewhere in the crowd, an international art thief.

(Y/n) froze, mid-sip of her coffee. “I'm sorry, what now?”

Neal, of course, leaned back in his chair, smirk firmly in place. “I mean, it makes sense. Look at us—irresistible charm, devastating good looks—who wouldn’t buy it?”

“You forgot insufferable ego,” she shot back, slamming her cup on the table. It was aggravating to be around Neal Caffrey, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love every second of it.

Peter held up a hand, cutting off the argument before it could spiral. “Enough. You’re the best fit for this assignment. The mark likes power couples, people who look like they’ve got secrets. Neal’s the smooth-talking art expert, and (Y/n)—you’ll play his fiancée, a curator from an old-money family.”

(Y/n) groaned, glaring at Peter. “You know this is going to go to his head.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter said dryly. “But you’ll manage. You always do.”

Neal turned to her, his smirk widening. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you.”

"That's okay baby, I can handle you." No, she can't. This could end badly.

"Oooh, competition? you're gonna lose, you, know?"

"Hey, if I'm going down, I'm taking you down with me, Caffrey."

"Right, and one last thing. (Y/n), try not to fall in love with me."

"Won't be a problem."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And you're promising, that this is strictly work?"

"I swear, Moz! It's not like that," Neal replied, pacing the length of his apartment, the small box in his hand feeling heavier than it had any right to.

"It's hard to believe that when you're holding a real diamond ring in your hand," Mozzie argued, incredulous about Neal's intentions in this case.

"It's for authenticity"

"Right, because the suspect would definitely notice if she wore a cheap American zirconia."

"Mozzie. It's not like that."

"I believe you"

"I don't think you do."

Mozzie didn’t respond, simply giving Neal a pointed look before taking a long sip of his wine.

Neal let out a sigh, his grip on the box tightening. He was done trying to convince Mozzie, who always had a knack for cutting to the heart of things Neal would rather not think about. Because as much as he repeated the words it was just for the case, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t.

His gaze dropped to the ring, the glint of the diamond catching the light. It was just for authenticity. No ulterior motives.

Right?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright. The moment we enter that room we're on high alert. Peter and the team are in the surveillance van two blacks away to remain inconspicuous. He's usually after wealthy power couple types so we need to be really convincing. Got it?"

“Uh-huh. Yes,” Neal replied, nodding a little too quickly. His words were automatic, half-hearted at best, because his attention was decidedly elsewhere.

She looked stunning—more than stunning, really, though he would never admit it outright. The soft glint in her eyes caught the streetlights at just the right angle, making them sparkle for a fleeting moment before fading again. The dress she wore was elegant, understated, but perfectly fitted to the role they were about to play. Neal found himself momentarily mesmerized, the lines between the act and reality blurring just a bit more than they should have.

(Y/n) shot him a suspicious glance. “Neal. Focus.”

“Totally focused,” he said, his trademark grin sliding into place to cover the fact that he had absolutely not been paying attention to anything she’d just said.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but after a beat, she turned back toward the building looming ahead. “You’d better be. The second we step into that gala, we’re in character, and I’m not carrying this assignment on my own.”

“Of course not,” Neal quipped, following her lead, his voice taking on the smooth confidence he wore so well. “I’ll be the perfect fiancé. You’ll swoon. Just wait.”

She shook her head in surrender and walked towards the door before she felt a delicate hand pull at her wrist.

"Wait, I almost forgot," he said, taking out the velvet box that made his pocket weigh heavier than it should have.

"What?" she asked, completely oblivious.

"This," he said, flipping it open to reveal the princess-cut diamond ring inside. The sharp sparkle caught the light between them, but it was nothing compared to the flash of surprise in her eyes.

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

He swallowed, his heartbeat thrumming loudly in his ears as he took her left hand in his, the warmth of her skin making him falter for just a moment. His fingers brushed hers, gentle but deliberate, as he slid the ring onto her finger.

No break in eye contact.

Her gaze locked with his, questioning, searching, unsteady. The seconds stretched long, heavy with something unspoken, as his thumb brushed against the band, settling it into place.

Still no break.

The moment lingered, charged, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them under the streetlight. His breath hitched, his confidence—usually so bulletproof—wavering under the weight of how utterly real this felt.

Neal shifted, suddenly nervous, but he didn’t step back. His eyes flicked to her lips, then back up to meet hers again, the line between fiction and reality blurring with dizzying speed.

Finally, he broke the silence with a soft, almost uncertain laugh, a hint of tension bleeding into his words. “For authenticity, right?”

(Y/n) blinked, the spell broken. Her lips curved into a small smile, but her voice was quieter than usual when she replied. “Right. Authenticity.”

But neither of them moved for a moment longer, caught in the fallout of something they couldn’t quite name. If this was just pretend, why did it feel so real?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They entered the grand ballroom arm-in-arm, the weight of their roles pressing against them. Neal’s hand rested lightly at the small of (Y/n)’s back, his touch electric even through the layers of fabric.

“You’re tense,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She instinctively closed her eyes and let it linger before remembering she had to respond.

“You try wearing a dress and pretending to be in love with you all evening,” she shot back, her voice sweetened by a practiced smile for the benefit of their audience.

Neal leaned closer, the humor in his tone giving way to something deeper. “You’d be surprised how easy that could be.”

"The dress or-"

"The last part. Obviously the last part."

"Just making sure," she responded, stifling a laugh. Remembering why they were here in the first place, she quickly scanned the room, she found their mark in the middle of the dance floor.

"Neal, 2'o clock, dance floor."

"Yeah, I see him. You ready?"

"Do, I have an option?"

Neal extended his hand, a devilish glint in his eyes as he slipped seamlessly into his role. “In that case, (Y/n), may I have this dance?”

(Y/n) smirked just for a moment, his outstretched hand a reminder of the precarious game they were playing. She placed her hand in his, his fingers warm and steady as they led her toward the dance floor. “Let’s get ourselves a criminal,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

The music swelled, slow and haunting, wrapping around them as Neal’s hand slid to her waist. His fingers pressed against the fabric of her dress, firm but careful, like he was afraid to break something fragile. His other hand cradled hers, his thumb brushing the back of her hand with maddening lightness.

“You’re holding on a little tight there, don’t you think?” she teased softly, her voice catching when his eyes locked on hers, warm and unflinching.

“Just making sure you don’t get away,” he replied, his words playful, but his tone laced with something heavier.

They moved in sync, the world around them dimming until it felt like the music existed just for them. Each step brought her closer, the space between them dissolving until her chest almost brushed against his. His breath was warm against her temple, and her head tilted slightly, just enough for her to catch the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“It’s just part of the job,” she whispered back, though her words wavered under the intensity of his gaze.

“Right,” he said, his hand slipping a fraction lower on her waist. “Just the job.”

Her pulse quickened as his fingers tightened slightly, drawing her closer still. Their faces were mere inches apart now, his eyes flicking to her lips for the briefest of moments before returning to hers. The tension between them was almost unbearable, charged and unspoken.

(Y/n) swore he was about to say something—something real, something that would tip this balance they always stalled on—but his gaze shifted over her shoulder.

“(Y/n),” he said abruptly, his tone cooling as his eyes fixed on something behind her.

(Y/n) blinked, the spell breaking as she followed his line of sight. Their mark stood on the edge of the dance floor, watching them with quiet intensity.

“He’s noticed us,” Neal said, his hand loosening its hold on her waist.

“Good,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “That’s the idea.”

And just like that, they were back in the game, palpable tension vanishing into thin air.

As the song came to an end, the mark stepped toward them with his date, a woman dripping in diamonds and disdain.

“Charming performance,” the mark said smoothly, offering a practiced smile. “You two must be new faces around here.”

“Guilty as charged,” Neal said with a grin, slipping effortlessly into his persona. “We’ve just been admiring the company.”

“Why don’t you join us on the rooftop?” the mark offered, gesturing toward the glass doors that led to a private terrace. “It’s quieter. Easier to talk.”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a quick glance before following. On the way, Neal caught her glancing at her hand, her thumb brushing lightly over the diamond ring he had slipped on earlier.

“Admiring your fiancé’s taste, sweetheart?” he teased under his breath, his voice tinged with both humor and something sharper.

(Y/n) jerked her gaze away, her cheeks warming. “Just making sure it looks convincing,” she muttered, but the way her hand lingered over the ring betrayed her words.

Neal leaned closer, his smirk softening. “It looks perfect. You look perfect.”

The heat in her cheeks deepened, but before she could respond, the doors opened, and the crisp night air swept over them. They stepped onto the terrace, the stakes of their mission suddenly more palpable than ever.

The mark led them to a table on the edge of the terrace, a private spot where the city lights shimmered below. He took a seat, his date following suit, and Neal and (Y/n) joined them. The air was cool, and the tension in the space was almost tangible. The mark’s eyes flicked between them, his gaze assessing, calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth, “tell me, how did you two meet? I’m always curious about these stories."

Neal leaned back in his chair, putting on his best charming smile. “It was one of those chance encounters, really,” he began. “I was at an auction, looking at some early Renaissance pieces when she walked in—just like that.” He snapped his fingers, his eyes glinting. “She had this aura about her—class, confidence, and this fire in her eyes that made me want to get to know her. I knew the moment I saw her, I’d never let her slip through my fingers.

Y/n) raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by how smooth he was. “Not exactly how I remember it,” she replied, her tone light but sharp. “He was chasing after a piece of art that had already been sold. I caught him, and after some back-and-forth, we ended up negotiating a deal. And well, the rest, as they say, is history.”

The mark chuckled, intrigued. “So, love at first sight then?”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a glance, both knowing that this was the moment they had to sell it. Neal leaned forward, his voice dropping a notch as he spoke to the mark.

“There’s something about her. Something that keeps me coming back, you know?” he said, his eyes never leaving (Y/n)'s face. “She’s strong, sharp—doesn’t take crap from anyone. And that’s something you don’t find every day.”

(Y/n) turned toward him, her heart beating a little faster at the raw honesty in his words. She wasn’t sure if it was part of the act or something real underneath it, but the heat between them flickered for a second.

“And what do you see in him?” the mark asked, his tone now laced with genuine curiosity.

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer without giving away too much of her own feelings, but when she looked into Neal’s eyes, something clicked. They were here together, playing a part in a dangerous game, but the way he was looking at her made her forget that for a second. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the vulnerability he was letting slip, just for her.

“I see someone who challenges me,” she replied, her voice softer than usual. “Someone who pushes me to be better. And, you know, someone who’s got this charm that… well, it works on me. I’m not proud of it.”

Neal’s grin spread, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “Works on me too,” he said, his voice lower now, as if the words were meant for her alone. “We balance each other out. When I'm with her, I feel complete, you know?”

The mark seemed satisfied with their answers, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You two really are a convincing pair. Almost makes me believe in the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing," he laughed. His date, lost in her phone, barely seemed to notice, leaving the moment to hang between them.

Neal glanced at (Y/n), an almost imperceptible shift in his expression as he studied her. There was something different in the way she held herself tonight. She was usually the composed one, but now… he couldn’t quite read the look in her eyes.

“So, what happens next?” the mark asked, his voice smooth, as he leaned back in his chair.

Neal tilted his head, his smile never faltering. “Now? Now we enjoy the view.” He gestured out toward the city lights that sparkled beneath them, a million possibilities flashing in the distance. “What’s a good evening without a little bit of beauty to go with it?”

(Y/n) nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of her wine glass absently. “And a little danger, I’d say,” she added, her voice laced with a quiet challenge.

The mark raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Danger, huh? What’s dangerous about a couple like you two?”

Neal chuckled, but it was a touch colder this time, more calculated. He turned his eyes on (Y/n), watching the way she tilted her head, as if she was on the edge of saying something important. Then, with a glance that felt almost too intimate, he spoke again. “We’ve got a history, you know? We don’t talk about it much, but we both know... some things you don’t just walk away from.”

(Y/n) blinked, her breath catching at his words. She hadn’t expected him to go that far with the act. The sincerity behind it—whether it was all for the mission or something more—hit her unexpectedly. But she kept her face neutral, answering with equal weight. “Yeah. Some things... they follow you.”

The air between them thickened, the words hanging heavy in the space. The mark watched them, an unreadable expression on his face as he exchanged glances with his date. It wasn’t quite suspicion, but something deeper. Curiosity, maybe. Or recognition. But before anything could be said, the mark stood, taking a step toward the edge of the terrace.

“You two are something else,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m going to grab another drink. You stay here.”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a glance, one that said everything without needing words. As soon as the mark and his date were distracted by the bar, they slipped away. It wasn’t much—just enough of a gap for them to make their move. They walked quickly, low and quiet, blending into the flow of people.

They passed a row of velvet curtains and slipped behind them, into a hallway that led to the back stairwell. The sound of voices echoed from the main room, but it was the sound of a briefcase being handed over that caught Neal’s attention.

There he was—the mark, shaking hands with someone in a dark suit. The transaction was swift, almost too clean. Neal’s eyes narrowed.

“Something’s off,” he whispered to (Y/n), barely audible.

But before they could pull back into the shadows, a shift in the mark’s posture had him looking their way. Neal froze, his gaze locking with the mark’s. There was a flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes, followed by a narrowing of his gaze.

In that moment, they both knew they had been spotted.

Neal didn’t hesitate. He grabbed (Y/n)’s wrist, pulling her in close. “Trust me on this,” he muttered, his breath warm against her ear.

Before she could even respond, his lips found hers in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was urgent—desperate, even, and as their bodies pressed closer, the danger of being caught only made it more intense. Their kiss was a cover, an act. But damn, it felt real. The mark was approaching them now, too close for comfort, but Neal barely registered the thought. He pushed her against the nearest wall and "got carried away" as he traveled towards her neck. Her hands found his hair, gently playing with them, for the act, of course.

(Y/n)’s heart raced as the world around them seemed to blur. They were acting, but in that moment, there was a sense of something more—something raw beneath the surface. He left her neck and locked her yes in a gaze, before returning back to her lips. Her pulse thudded in her ears, and when Neal pulled away, her lips felt like they were still burning from the kiss.

The mark was now standing just a few feet away, his brow furrowed in confusion but not yet suspicious enough to call them out. Neal, ever the charmer, quickly recovered, a half-smile spreading across his face.

“Sorry,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Got carried away. But you know how it is, right?” He gestured to (Y/n), his hand slipping possessively around her waist as he spoke directly to the mark, hoping his calm demeanor would sell the story.

The mark studied them for a beat, a silent assessment passing between them. Finally, he shook his head, smirking. “You two really are something else, huh.”

Neal’s grin stretched wider, eyes flicking to (Y/n) for just a moment, as if to say: We’re good.

They turned, following the mark back into the chaos of the night, but the weight of what just happened settled between them—unspoken, but palpable.

The sound of pounding footsteps echoed through the terrace as the FBI moved in, swarming around them with practiced efficiency. Neal felt the brief rush of adrenaline still pumping in his veins, but now it was mixed with something else. He and (Y/n) had done their job, the mark had fallen into their trap, and the briefcase—the one they’d been waiting for—was in his hands, a key piece of evidence that sealed the deal.

But then, there was that kiss.

It had been... unexpected. Real. No longer just an act.

The team moved quickly, surrounding the mark, taking him into custody. Peter gave Neal a brief, knowing nod before he led the mark away. He didn’t say anything; the job was done. The mission was complete. But Neal’s mind wasn’t on the bust. He was focused on (Y/n), the way her breath had caught when their lips met, the look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

Once the area had cleared and the sound of distant voices faded, he turned to her. (Y/n) was leaning against the railing, her arms crossed tightly as she stared out over the city, the glow of the streetlights flickering in the distance. There was a cold distance in her posture that wasn’t there before, a wall he hadn’t seen her put up.

Neal swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “(Y/n)...”

She didn’t look at him right away. When she did, her gaze was unreadable. “We did our job, Neal. That’s what matters.”

There was a tightness in her voice, the way she was shutting down again, retreating behind the walls she always kept so perfectly in place. It made his chest tighten.

“I know,” Neal replied, his voice softer. “But that kiss…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. He was a conman, a man who lived in deception. But that kiss—that had felt different.

(Y/n) sighed, pushing herself off the railing and turning to face him fully. “It’s part of the job, Neal. You know that. It’s always part of the job.”

Her words were clipped, but her eyes betrayed her. They were too wide, too vulnerable, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was convincing him. Neal didn’t buy it. Not this time.

“Is it?” he asked quietly, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Because that didn’t feel like part of the job to me. It felt like—” He stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “Like something real.”

Her expression flickered, just for a moment, like she was considering telling him something—something more than what she was letting on. But she quickly masked it, her gaze hardening again.

“It wasn’t real, Neal,” she said, her voice sharp, like the edge of a blade. “It was a job. You know that.”

Neal’s breath hitched. “But what if it was? What if it wasn’t just the mission? What if we’re both—” He cut himself off, staring at her, his chest suddenly tight with a feeling he couldn’t quite shake. “Look, I don’t want to make this more complicated than it has to be. But I can’t just act like that kiss was nothing. I can’t pretend it didn’t mean something.”

(Y/n) took a step back, her jaw clenched, clearly struggling with something she wasn’t ready to face. “You’re just confused, Neal,” she said, her words laced with frustration. “We’re good at what we do. We can sell this. We can sell anything. But that kiss? It doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

Neal shook his head, his frustration matching hers. “Why do I feel like you’re trying so hard to convince me of that?”

She stepped forward, her eyes locking onto his. There was no hiding now. “Because I don’t need you to start thinking that this is something more than it is,” she said, her voice shaking just a little. “I don’t need to feel like I’m... I’m letting you in. I don’t want that. We can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Neal asked, his voice quieter now, softer. “Why can’t we have that?”

For a moment, (Y/n) didn’t say anything. She just looked at him, as if trying to find the words to explain something she couldn’t. She wanted to—he could see it in her eyes—but something held her back, something she was afraid to admit.

“Because I can’t,” she finally said, her voice trembling with something raw, something real. “Because I can’t let you in, Neal. I can’t let myself... care. I’ve spent too long keeping everything at arm's length. It’s easier that way. It’s safer that way.”

Neal felt his heart twist. He had no answers, no solutions. He couldn’t fix this. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

But as the silence stretched between them, he couldn’t just let it go. “So, what happens now?” he asked quietly. “Do we just go back to being... partners? Nothing more, nothing less?”

(Y/n) looked away, biting her lip as she thought it over. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I don’t know if we can just go back to what we were before. But we have to try.”

Neal didn’t argue. He couldn’t. There was too much at stake. Too much left unsaid.

“I don’t think either of us can walk away from this without something changing,” he said, the words coming out as more of a confession than a statement.

Her eyes flickered to his again, softer now. “Maybe that’s true,” she murmured. “But that doesn’t mean we can act on it.”

Neal took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I don’t know what’s happening between us, (Y/n). But I don’t think I can just pretend it’s nothing anymore.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes one last time. “Neither can I,” she said quietly, as she took off her ring and placed it in his hand.

And then, before either of them could say more, Peter’s voice echoed from behind them, sharp and thunder-like.

“Jesus Christ, what happened in this mission?” Peter inquired, leaning against the doorframe, clearly amused.

Neal shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. Peter was just being Peter. But as the moment lingered, both Neal and (Y/n) knew the truth. They had crossed a line. They’d let the job get too close. And now, whatever happened next… they couldn’t go back to pretending it was just a mission anymore.

a/n: I hope you liked it, this was my first request so I got carried away T_T, I'll make a part 2 for closure if this does well <3

[achelouise]

my love, my muse —kaveh

fandom: genshin

pairing: kaveh x reader!

a/n: i just realized i hadn’t written for kaveh, which is a crime against humanity. also kaveh x muse!reader brainrot sjzjjwjzjqjjajajajh (also switching formats, iiiiiii have no idea what im doing, can you tell)

— student!kaveh, who, even though loathed and respected his project partner to bits, would rather die than ever try to draw him for an assignment. “don’t even think about it,” he hisses, just as alhaitham quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. he understands that he has many friends and acquaintances that are willing to pose for him, but a small voice in the back of his head needles at him- telling him that no, we cannot create art with them as our muse. and to him, nothing is more important than making sure every single artwork he produces is with the utmost sincerity.

— student!kaveh, whose resolve crumbles bit after bit as the deadline creeps up, with no model to look for in sight, and is starting to think perhaps he should turn to his volunteering friends after all. he cannot compromise his diligence for his passion as a scholar, and so he heads to pupsa café, hoping to buy some coffee to prepare for his all-nighter that night.

—student!kaveh, who doesn’t even realize he’s pouting until he hears a cheery, unfamiliar voice bring it up- and he tilts his head up to find that he spilled all the coffee in his mouth onto his shirt (much to your alarm).

“you,” he gurgles, “you’re the muse i’ve been looking for!”

“excuse me?”

— perhaps he was a bit sleep-deprived, which explained his lack of inhibition, but student!kaveh latches onto you like a moth to a flame, stars swirling in his eyes. are you a student of the akademiya? which darshan are you from? which nation were you from to bless you with such beautiful eyes? could you be his muse? he asks them all, because he has to know.

— student!kaveh, who only later apologizes for his overbearing first-impression, while swearing up and down he wasn’t like that usually, and explaining his current predicament. perhaps you pitied him, or found him quite charming- whichever it was, you accepted his proposal to be his muse in exchange for some funds, much to his delight.

“thank you, thank you, oh, thank you! my assignment won’t be so lifeless after all!”

— student!kaveh, who arranges a time and place for you at his dorm with a sense of bravery he has absolutely no idea where he picked up from. when you come in with the most random set of outfit he’s ever seen, he chooses to hold back his tongue over your enthusiastic participation.

“sit tight!” he says, holding comically large canvas whose shadow swallowed up the whole room, “relax, and do whatever your heart tells you to do.”

— student!kaveh, who usually simply sketches things out of pure photographic memory, starts simple and structured for once. where would the chair go? where would you sit? would you look too stretched out if the table properties next to you weren’t matching? where should he exaggerate? how would the chandelier be hanging to get the perfect lighting? how would the painting behind you affect the composition?

— student!kaveh, who usually lets his hand dance on his canvas, plans everything out this time, and lets his mind flourish under the guidance of your radiant beauty. your soft smile, your relaxed posture, and your twinkling eyes lets him have fun- and he finds joy in drawing backgrounds, especially the furniture, for once- to emphasize the way you pose.

— student!kaveh, who drinks an ungodly amount of coffee every night and lets his sheer will do the rest, stops by in the kitchen to make you some snacks. he worries for you; “are you alright? is this posture tiring you? do you want water? i can get some for you. do you want some snacks, too? we can take a break. i don’t have much here, but i can always make a quick trip to the market.”

— student!kaveh, who finds joy in conversation with you while he works. you seem to harbor a decent amount of knowledge fitting for a scholar. if you talk about other subjects, kaveh’s more than willing to listen. if you enjoy studying architecture, that’s fine too! whatever the topic is, you both seem to have an endless stream of opinions and discussions to open up about, and watching your mouth run off on any particular topic brings him much satisfaction. it is always fascinating to understand another person deeply interested in a subject.

— student!kaveh, who starts to explore other color schemes in order to find the perfect one for you. your radiance is something that should be brought out and emphasized on his canvas, something future generations can look at and admire. maybe a bit of pink for the shadow? how about purple to shade your hair instead of gray? would yellow compliment your shoes? he thinks of them all, dabbling in this and that, until his palette blooms in different smears of colors.

— student!kaveh, who is willing to go on a rant to explain how you were the perfect muse, how your smile made his hand itch to draw it out, how your eyes crinkled and held the weight of your soul, how- oh. did he say muse? would you like to be? kaveh doesn’t mind in the slightest if you could continue to. in fact, how about he treats you to a nice meal tonight? the sun is setting, anyway, and it’ll be his way of saying thank you. (please say yes.)

— student!kaveh, who, after half an hour of deliberation on whether parting his bangs in a certain angle would make him look more presentable or not, shows up that night at the venue with a small sketchbook in his hands, telling you not to worry about it. every time your lips turn a certain way, or when the light hits your hand just right, he frantically sketches it down underneath the table, much to your confusion.

“did you enjoy the meal? hm? that? oh, it’s nothing. please, go on. you said something about how your friend could aether-edit?”

it was a pleasant time, despite him constantly dodging your questions on what in teyvat’s name he’s doing, and believing the constant rush he feels inside his head whenever you laugh is perfectly normal. you’re his muse, aren’t you? it’s only natural.

(and if the dinner spreads any rumors- well, kaveh thinks it’s normal to feel giddy, too.)

— student!kaveh, who, when looking at his graded paper days later, is pleased to know it is graded with high praise. the professor even commented on how he is finally starting to get a firm grasp on studying basic anatomy of architecture. (hmph. he thinks he was pretty good at anatomy up until then as well, but okay.) good- he’s put a lot of effort into that painting.

— student!kaveh, who insists on thanking you for the high grade again, the next time you run into each other- only this time with a bouquet of flowers, and a blush on his face.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Silver

@jegulus-microfic October 28, Word count 806

Previous part First part

James had never seen Sirius so mad before. James watched the already nervous Regulus cower into himself as Sirius glared at him. How could he not have put two and two together? Regulus had the same grey eyes as Sirius, the same nose and mouth, and even their hair was the same colour. No wonder he’d been intrigued by him. Regulus was little Reggie Black.

“H-h-hi Sirius,” Regulus stuttered, his eyes flicking up every few seconds to his brother's thunderous face. 

“What are you doing here,” James caught the flinch Regulus tried to hide, and before he knew it, he was standing between them.

“Back off Sirius. He’s here because I asked him. I want him here, please, will you calm down a bit?” James’s tone was soothing but with a commanding presence behind them. Sirius let out a ragged breath and nodded. James grinned at him. “Tea?” He asked as he pushed Sirius over to the armchair. 

“Yeah, go on then. Remus is going to be another couple of hours yet,” Sirius told him. James quickly made another cup of tea. He came back through and put it down on the coffee table, near enough for Sirius to be able to grab it. 

“Oh, Regulus, you were going to show me your drawing,” James reminded him, trying to include him. 

Regulus had been frozen since James had intervened. He turned startled eyes on James as he clutched the black book to his chest. 

“You draw?” Sirius interrupted. Regulus’s head spun to face Sirius. He was so tense. James wished he knew what to do. 

“I-I-I…” Regulus stammered, unable to get past the first few words. 

“You’re an art student aren’t you?” James prompted. Regulus nodded. 

“Yeah,” He gave James a tiny smile of thanks. James winked at him in return. 

“That’s how we met, actually. He was doing something with clay and I guess something went wrong?” He looked at Regulus for confirmation. 

“I couldn’t get it to look right,” He answered quietly, not taking his eyes off James. 

“Then I walked in to see what was going on and spotted a fruit bowl. It was just lying there, so of course I grabbed a banana.” 

“Mate, you do know that was probably a still life, right? The class will have been drawing it,” Sirius said, snorting as he leaned over and snagged a chocolate hobnob. 

“Well, I did after Regulus told me off. He made me pose for him and that’s why we were meeting in the first place, so he could show it to me. Can I see it?” He asked, turning his attention back to Regulus, who’d started picking at the corners of his sketchbook. 

“Erm—” Regulus clutched it tighter. 

“Please,” James begged, and Regulus relented. He flipped his book open and, after flicking through a few previous drawings, settled on one page, folding the cover over so he could pass the whole pad over to James.

James’s eyes widened as he took in the detail of the silver pencil lines that made up the most beautiful drawing he’d ever seen. “Wow, Reg, just wow,” He didn’t have words for how much he loved it. 

“Let’s have a look,” Sirius demanded, holding out his hand. James watched as Regulus’s jaw tensed. 

“You can say no,” James whispered gently, but Regulus shook his head. 

“No, it’s okay. You can show him,” he kept his head low as James passed the drawing over to Sirius, peeking up at his brother from under long lashes, waiting for Sirius’s opinion. Sirius burst into peels of laughter. 

“Ha! Did you really make him stand like that? This is the best thing I’ve ever seen! I need copies of it! Reggie, please tell me I can have copies of this! I already have so many plans!” Sirius looked at his brother, and Regulus didn’t seem to know how to react. James reached over, his little finger brushing against Regulus’s. The other boy suddenly breathed in. 

“Yes, of course, you can, as many as you like,” Regulus spoke quickly, his hand pushing into James’s so he’d hold it. James was more than happy to give him that support. 

Sirius flipped back through the sketchbook, looking at Regulus’s other works, commenting on each. Regulus kept squeezing his hand every now and again as he spoke to Sirius about his art, getting more confident with every second. By the time Sirius had gone through the whole book, Regulus was a lot calmer and had relaxed again, but he didn’t let go of James’s hand. James was over the moon that his picture had helped begin to smooth out the shoddy start the brothers had had, to their surprise reunion. He really didn’t want Sirius scaring Regulus off because, honestly, he could see himself very easily falling for this sweet, nervous artist.

Next part

[idol-murder-mystery]

Idols x Murder x Romance?

So I'm making this game called Whispers of the Luminaries. It's an idol-themed murder mystery visual novel that blends investigative gameplay (inspired by Danganronpa) with social sim gameplay.

Play as a detective

Follow 4 idol trainees trying to make their dreams come true

Make friends or choose to work on the case in your free time

Piece together clues to unravel a dark, yet heartfelt story 

Check out the characters!

Detective Taichi Fukuda

Detective Eiji Hoshiko

Meet the idols!

May Ayano (Keytarist)

Miyuki Fujikawa (Vocalist)

Sayuri Kobayashi (Percussionist)

Akane Asagiri (Bassist)

Idol Instructor Tanaka

Bartender Yuki Hirota

Miyako Koike

Gameplay

I wanted to make a detective game where you can choose to hang out at different places, meet new characters and make new friends ^^ (Kinda like Persona, Coffee Talk, and VA-11 Hall-A)!

Free Time Events

There'll be 'free time events' and a 'world map system' where you choose where you want to hang out:

Trust Meter

During free time events, you get to meet different characters and deepen your relationship with them - learning more about their backstory.

There'll also be a 'trust meter' for each character.

Unravel the Mystery

Instead of visiting places like the bar, park or gym, you can also choose to visit your detective's office. Here, you'll be able to unravel the mystery by choosing which leads you want to investigate further:

Investigating leads is crucial to solving the case, but spending too much time here can lower your sanity, so be careful.

Once enough evidence is collected, there'll also be a deduction phase similar to Danganronpa/Ace Attorney, where you must select evidence to support or contradict a statement!

Join Our Debut ✓

We're launching a Kickstarter this month, aiming to bring more art, music and content! Look forward to new poses, costumes, character designs, and adorable CGs 😇

Follow our Kickstarter pre-launch, and be the first to grab Kickstarter-exclusive rewards like:

cute idol merch

early access to the game

special scenes featuring your favorite idol

design a costume for any character of your choice

early bird discounts!

Thank you so much!!

I want this to be the best mystery game you've ever played! ❤️

Whispers of the Luminaries: An Idol-themed Murder Mystery 🔔 Follow Our Prelaunch | ✨Try the demo

[sturniozo]

In The Shadows II

masterlist

“But why do you have to leave the country?” My boyfriend, Luke asks. He’s been my boyfriend for two years. I haven’t told him about what I do, how could I?

“I told you, it’s a work thing.” I say as I continue to pack my suitcase.

“What does a planner at a stock company need to do in Switzerland?” Luke sits in the bed next to my suitcase.

“It’s not really something I can discuss.” I put the last few things in my suitcase.

“You’re not doing something illegal, are you?” Luke asks as he looks me in the eyes.

I take a breath. “No, of course not.” I say as I close my suitcase.

“You don’t tell me anything!” He groans and lays on the bed.

“You’re acting like a child.” I set the suitcase down on the floor.

“Why Switzerland? Why so far? How long will you be gone?”

“It’s for an important client, and it might be a while.”

“Give me your best guess.”

“Three months?” I shrug. That’s the average amount of time it takes for something like this.

“What kind of stock has clients that need you to go across the world for them for three months?” Luke asks, starting to raise his voice.

“It’s not something I can discuss, Luke.” I sit down next to him on the bed.

“What about me? How am I gonna live?”

“It’s not like my bank account goes with me. You can still use your card to my account.” Luke has no job. He got fired from his job at a computer store for playing video games on the new ministers instead of doing his job. It’s been 16 months since he was fired. It’s the main reason he moved in with me, since he lost his apartment. Now I solely take care of everything while he plays video games all day.

Not that I mind, I make more than enough for the both of us. Although, he doesn’t exactly know that. He thinks I make a regular salary, because that’s what I put into the bank account I created just to get him off my back about having a card for my bank account. Every two weeks I add a regular amount to the account to make him think I got paid.

At first I thought it was a mistake. Every time I “got paid” he’d spend all the money on something stupid. It didn’t actually matter, but I had to make him think it did or else he’d get suspicious about what I really do for a living.

“Yeah but isn’t there inflation difference between America and Switzerland? What if you spend all the money on a coffee or something and I’m left broke?” Luke asks.

I sigh. “It’s all paid for by the client, you don’t have to worry about that.”

~

A private jet. I stare at the plane as the worker load suitcases and boxes of items onto the plane. I don’t even know what’s in the boxes, just things my father decided I needed for my cover.

I look through the folder my father gave me, exposing my contract and my cover. I’m to pose as a newlywed woman with my husband, Matt. I roll my eyes just at the thought.

My dad bought a house in Switzerland under our fake identities, so the things in the boxes must be what we’re moving into the house. Our cover is art. We need to go to Finley Wilson for art to decorate our new home with. We need to befriend him, and find who he’s closest to, who he loves the most, and report back to dad.

I put the folder back into my purse and board the plane. Matt’s already there, drinking the scotch, I didn’t expect any different. I set my purse down in a seat and sit down.

“How was the drive?” Matt asks while pouring another glass of scotch. He hands it to me and I only set it to the side, ignoring it completely.

“We’re only fake married, I’d prefer it if we didn’t talk outside of what we have to keep our cover, thank you.” I pull out the folder to read up on Finley Wilson.

“The best assassins keep up their cover even in private.” Matt says before taking a drink of his scotch.

“We haven’t even officially started our cover, so I don’t need to speak to you at all. As far as I’m concerned, until we leave American soil, we’re still just y/n l/n and Matthew Sturniolo.”

Matt stays silent for a moment. He shifts in his seat and looks over at me. “You’re very interested in the case file.” He says, breaking the silence.

“The best assassins study up on their cover and their hit before going in.” I say without looking up from the file.

Matt rolls his eyes. “It’s a long flight, we should go over the specifics of our relationship.”

“We’re a newlywed couple, just bought a house in Switzerland and we were looking to decorate it with art when we heard about Mr. Wilson’s collection.”

“Yeah, but how did we meet? What made you fall for me?” Matt smirks and leans back in his seat.

“What’s not to fall for? The lack of empathy or the inevitable betrayal?” I glare at him for a moment before looking back at the file.

“Is this about Montana? Y/n, that was five years ago!”

“Oh, was it? And what’s your excuse for never calling? For never explaining? Maybe it was because you knew there was nothing to explain. You’re just an ass who only cares about himself.” I snap at him.

Matt closes his mouth and leans back in his seat. He twirls the scotch around in his glass before looking at mine, still full from when he poured it. “Still not a drinker, huh?” He asks with a light laugh.

“Nope.” I say sternly, still reading over the case file.

The sound of the intercom goes off and the pilot says “This is your pilot, captain Jones, telling you to prepare for take off in five minutes.”

Matt smiles at me. “Well, Mrs. Sturniolo.” He moves to the seat next to mine. “Let’s see our new home, shall we?”

“We haven’t left American soil yet, Matt.” I set down the file. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh you do? I thought you were scared of commitment. Who’s the lucky guy?” Matt asks with a laugh.

“You’ve met him, actually.”

“I have?” Matt looks at me confused before it dawns on him. “Oh, god. Don’t tell me it’s Luke Pelton.”

“What’s wrong with Luke?” I ask.

“He’s a fucking moocher. He got fired from what, two jobs before the computer store job he had when I knew him. Does he even still have that job?”

“Well, no-“

“Jesus, how many jobs has he had since then?” Matt laughs.

“None, he lives with me and I got everything.” I shrug.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously, and what’s wrong with that? For years women did the housework while men were the breadwinners, I don’t see anything wrong with the roles being reversed.”

“Does he do the housework, though? Because that would be a surprise!” Matt laughs again.

I roll my eyes and look out the window, clenching my jaw to keep quiet. He’s right, Luke doesn’t do the housework. He doesn’t do anything. But I don’t mind it.

“What does he think you do anyway?” Matt asks while taking a drink of his scotch.

“He thinks I’m a planner is stocks.” I shrug.

“And he’s dumb enough to believe that? Where did you say you were going?”

“Switzerland.”

Matt’s jaw drops. “You told him the truth?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? I didn’t tell him what I was really doing.”

“And if someone wanted information out of him?”

I laugh. “It’s fine.”

“I suppose you’re right. Anyone who does any research on that man will figure out that he’s got a pea brain.”

I throw the scotch glass Matt had given me at him and it breaks against the wall. “Hey!” Matt yells. “That’s $8k scotch!”

“Don’t fucking talk about Luke like that.” I spit at Matt.

He raises his hands in surrender and sits back in his seat. The plane starts moving and Matt just smirks at me. “Now, now you’re Mrs. Sturniolo.”

TAGS: @sturniolopookie @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @cheesesoda @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer

[danikamariewrites]

imagine being Rhys and Feyres sweet little housewife 🤭🤭🤭 baking and cooking for them, making the home clean and peaceful for them, going shopping, sitting on Rhys’ lap whilst he works, sucking on Feyres tits whilst she paints being spoiled and babied ALL the TIME, extreme princess treatment, it’s not a want it’s a need 🤍🤍🤍

Housewife headcanon

Feysand x reader

A/n: I don’t want to be a housewife BUT I would be for them

Warnings: fluff and slightly nsfw at the end

After a year of dating Rhys and Feyre they convinced you to move in

When you did they were adamant about you making yourself at home because the River House is your house too

Since acts of service is your love language you easily became incorporated in their daily routines which they love

You get up early before Rhys goes to training and make him a small breakfast and coffee. The first time you did this he was surprised. “Darling you didn’t have to do this.” He said, kissing your temple before eating. “I know, but I wanted to. I know you don’t eat before working out and that’s not good for you Rhysie.”

Before he leaves you give him a kiss and tell him “have a great day baby, I love you.”

Then you go back to bed to cuddle with Feyre for another hour until she gets up

You bring up coffee or tea - whatever she’s in the mood for - and the two of you get ready together. Sometimes Feyre does your makeup if you feel like it. You love having her hands all over you, she’s soft with you when she plays with your hair and holds you

When Rhys comes home the three of you sit down for a proper breakfast and talk about what your plans are for the day

Your first few weeks you took it upon yourself to add more furniture into some of the rooms and make the living room a little less old gothic looking

You got a new rug, new arm chairs, and a big comfy couch with new blankets and you hung a few of Feyre’s paintings

Over the months you worked on de-gothifying the place and making it more homey

When that project was done you could tell Rhys and Feyre felt more relaxed at home. All those dark colors must’ve reminded them of literally everything bad and work of course

You also love to cook! Going to the farmers market is your favorite. Fresh bread and foods from all over Prythian at your fingertips

Once a week you make a big meal for the 3 of you with stuff you bought from the market. You also make dessert which is usually ice cream, brownies, or cookies

Feyre and Rhys have always showed you so much love and affection, even before you moved in

To show you that they appreciate everything you do they dial up your Princess treatment to what feels like a million

They buy you any and everything you could ever want

They love taking you out for shopping trips in the city together but sometimes they get so busy you go on your own

You like going on your own sometimes, that way you can get them little surprise gifts

Other days you feel like doing nothing but sitting around the house or being with one of them while they worked

With Feyre you helped her with correspondence or planning lessons and gallery’s for the art studio

Sometimes the two of you would snuggle and read together on the couch in her office

Other times creativity would hit and Feyre would ask you to pose for a sketch for a painting. As she paints you sit with her just in awe of her talent

“You’re amazing Fey. I don’t know how you do it,” you say to her. Feyre turns her head to quickly press her lips to yours as thanks. “Thank you my love, I couldn’t do it without my muse,” she teases

When you compliment her she’d boop your nose with whatever paint she was using and you’d giggle while blushing like crazy

That usually ended with the two of you covered in paint naked on the floor

With Rhys you love taking naps in his office either on the plush leather couch by the fire or sitting on his lap

You read or help him sort paperwork and write letters to the other high lords

Usually working with Rhys is pretty boring unless your in his lap staring up at him with heart eyes, admiring that beautiful jaw line and sparkling eyes

“I can feel you staring darling,” Rhys lightly chuckles out. Your cheeks turn pink a little and you hide your face in his neck. “I can’t help it you’re just so damn pretty.” You mumble. “Another laugh shakes Rhys’s chest. “Hey, look at me.” You slowly pull away from his neck and meet his violet eyes

Rhys shifts you so you’re straddling him with your back to his desk. His hand comes up to softly hold your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. “I love it when you stare at me pretty girl. Reminds me of how much you love me. Do you stare at Feyre too?”

You nod, a soft smile pulling at your lips as he inches his face closer to yours. “Mmhh, and what does Feyre darling do when you stare at her like that?” Rhys gently kisses you as he taps on your mental shields, asking to see what you did with Feyre yesterday

You happily show him, hoping you can end up in the same position with him

You also show him images of the 3 of you together in bed hoping that you can have both of them sooner rather than later

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Hello new piece of art in Bucks loft that is making me think thoughts! I need to see you in full please and thank you!

There was no art on this wall before - as we can see in 705

its an interesting piece because it looks to be an artists 1/5th scale posable figure, in front of either water or static (I prefer water, but static is entirely plausible!). Water theming around Buck has always been at thing (and around buddie more widely for that matter!) and thats making me think a lot of thoughts.

But the concept of positioning and poses and proportions - because there’s something about painting a 1/5th scale posable figure and having it as the finished piece of art. The figures are meant to help artists with drawing, its a reference item, and points to the beginnings of a painting rather than a complete picture - its the thing you use to create the base markings for your final piece, its not usually the final piece.

So using it here is maybe a reference to Buck and his bi identity being at the beginning stages and that it will look vastly different by the ‘end’ of his journey - and so we might see the art change over the season as things happen to him and he grows and develops. It possibly being tied into the water theme as well is interesting - the idea that water washes away and renews, but can be destructive in the process. It could be a play on the idea that old Buck is being washed away and new Buck is still a work in progress - he's still figuring himself out and forming the full picture.

The fact it's only appeared since tommy started dating Buck - by that I mean after the coffee date, not the first failed date - and that its maybe also a reference to Tommy - that he is being positioned to serve Bucks arc like a posable figure. Like an inside joke from the set department about tommy being a plot device in much the same way those figures are a plotting device for a piece of art!

[emeraldhazeidentity]

Sorry for the delay, but here's the promised art reward for helping us get Coffee the win in the Pomegranate Parlor's 2024 Tumblr Sexyman Contest!

Thank you so, so much everyone for voting for him!

Thank you to @enamoredfey for running the Pomegranate Parlor and the poll tournament! It was a lot of fun

thank you to @under-art-reblogs for all your support, and for opening my eyes to the virtues of this sweet boy

Fellswap Gold and Coffee belong to @/blackggggum

Pose reference base by @/albanenechi