#'there's no cars around' yeah there is. mine

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a tweet by @Puckmeat "Puck" which says "One aspects of hallucinating that I found out during my couple years of hallucinating- you will be surprised at how many hallucinations you can completely ignore and get used to almost immediately."

@wifibun "BUNNY🪽🫐🍓🍉🔆" replies "(capitalized) to add to this, i always kinda find it funny how media portrays hallucinations as like the world impossibly warping showing you your biggest fear/trauma, when most of the time it's just like (end capitalization) quote, "oh eminem is in my spare bedroom. ok." Unquote."]

[Two more replies by bunny, which say, in all capitals, "like no I dont have a ghostly version of my dead friend following me around and telling me its my fault but I do have ben shapiro whispering "penis" so

"for the record im talking about schizophrenia I have never done acid".]

["one of the greatest theys in he..." replies to bunny, saying "Mine are mostly people calling my name and sometimes bugs crawling on me"

Bunny replies in all capitals "I get those as well".]

[The next two images are replies to wifibun, which say:

@KaylaHurd8 "Kayla Hurd" says "My uncle has schizophrenia and he's had this one recurring hallucination of a dog wearing a Winnie the pooh costume that he's named Carl Imfao. He said naming it makes it funnier when it appears".]

["~_-|Allied Mastercomputerl-_~" says "Sometimes I just see Jim. (He wears blue jeans. But this is the closest stock photo to how he looks. He also lacks a face ?)"

Attached is an image of a stocky bald man in a light grey button up and dark blue pants, and brown boots with orange laces, which look somewhat like work boots.]

[A tweet by @Puckmeat "Puck" which says "A more interesting hallucination was the shadow gorilla with glowing red eyes that lived in the grocery store warehouse. Like yeah I gotta pull this pallet of Gatorade and oh hello wearhouse gorilla."]

[The tweets in the next image are all replies to Puck, which say:

@Gameplay... "Gameplay Gaming" says, "Every time I'm in bed I either hear an unintelligible late night talk show outside the door, or the sound of a river it's lowkey zen as fuck".

@sndwv_ "Weaver" says, "Lots of hallucinations also like look hugely inconvenient until you try to navigate them and then it turns out to be fine. Have had hallucinations where I definitely could not judge even short distances by sight but then I go to reach for stuff and it just kinda works."

@Duncan_CC "dc" says, "one weird one i got used to was car bonnets popping open out of fucking nowhere for a split second and then like frameskipping to being closed again, i used to like jolt and duck when it happened but i just got used to it."]

[laneywrld]

no greater engine than desire | Lewis Hamilton Series

chapter one | big talk, big offers. nomi is a genius; it's true. when you need someone to make a championship-winning car, check Texas first.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: none

When Lewis had agreed to move to Ferarri, Fred already had someone else in mind to bring onto the team.

Now Fred was a French man who spent most of his time in Maranello, but he had eyes everywhere.

On this particular day, his eyes were in Texas.

"And she is there, yes?" Fred asks, his voice crackling over the speaker.

"She is," Alessandro confirms.

And the she they're referring to is Nomi Williams.

Now, the beautiful thing about Nomi is that she's an absolute genius.

She'd been on Fred's radar since his early days at Sauber, but then he knew he couldn't afford her. Now, he knew monetary issues wouldn't serve as a problem.

But back to Nomi, she's a genius, it's true!

You may ask yourself, what is a genius doing riding around a country dirt track in an old school Mustang in the middle of nowhere Texas? And why was an Italian man dressed to the tens watching her yards away?

The Mustang growled as it tore through the loose dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust that shimmered like gold under the hot Texas sun. Behind the wheel, Nomi was sharp; she was focused and effortlessly in control. Her hands commanded the wheel, and her foot teased the accelerator like she was coaxing a lover.

"I just don't get it." Fred sighs.

"Get what, boss?" Allesandro questions.

"Why she's in a place like that, with a brain like hers."

"Freedom," Allesandro replied. "Just her, a car, and the open road. You know the type—brilliant enough to rewrite the rules, stubborn enough to refuse to play the game."

On the track, Nomi slid the Mustang into a corner, the rear tires spinning just enough to test her control.

She smiles to herself as the car skids across the dirt, but the moment is interrupted by her phone vibrating on the dash.

She ignored it for a moment, letting the Mustang roar down the final stretch of the dirt track before pulling to a halt in a swirl of dust. She reached for the phone and squinted at the screen—an unknown number.

Frowning, she swiped to answer, her voice clipped. "Hello?"

There was a pause, and then Fred's accent cut through. "Nomi Williams, I presume."

Her brow furrowed, and she leaned back in her seat, already wary. "Who's asking?"

"Fred Vasseur," he said as if that name should mean something. And to her, it did.

Nomi's lips parted in surprise, but she quickly schooled her expression, even though he couldn't see it. "Well, this is unexpected," she replied coolly, her Texan drawl laced with intrigue.

Nomi steps out of the car, her worn boots digging into the dirt. "Is that your guy watching me?" She asks.

"What gave it away?"

"I don't know; I think the fact that he's dressed like Al Capone."

Fred chuckles over the phone, and Nomi lifts her arm to wave at Alessandro, who seems to forget the meaning of inconspicuous.

"He's mine," Fred admits.

"And he's here, why?" Nomi asks, swinging the door closed to her Mustang and leaning back against the side of the car.

"He's scouting for me."

"More like stalking; I should be afraid right now; how do you have my number?"

"I have ties."

"Scouting who?"

"You, of course."

Nomi chuckles, "Yeah, right, what use am I to you?"

Fred's laugh crackled through the phone, amused.

"Come now, Nomi. Don't insult us both with false modesty. You know exactly what you're capable of. I need someone like you on my team."

Her eyes narrowed, the heat of the Texas sun doing little to thaw her skepticism. "Your team? That's a long way from here. What could Ferrari possibly want with someone like me?"

"Someone like you," Fred repeated, his voice plunging slightly, "doesn't belong in the middle of nowhere, playing with dirt tracks. You belong on the world stage."

"And let me guess," she said, tapping the roof of her Mustang. "You're offering me that stage?"

"Not just the stage, everything," Fred replied quickly. "I need someone with your mind on my team who can see what others miss."

She tilted her head, considering his words. "And what makes you think I'd leave all this behind?"

"You underestimate yourself, Miss Williams."

"I don't," Nomi replied, crossing her arms as her eyes flicked to Alessandro, who was pretending to study something on his phone.

"I just don't see how my little Texas hobby is of any interest to someone like you."

"What you're calling a hobby is what I call brilliance. I've been watching you for a long time. I know what you're working on is more than a hobby."

"Well, that makes one of us, Fred."

Fred's chuckle, in return, was rich. "You're wasted there, Nomi. Hidden away in the dust."

The line went quiet momentarily as Nomi chewed on her lip, her boots scuffing against the dirt. The Mustang behind her ticked faintly as the engine cooled.

"Flattery doesn't work on me, Fred. Don't you already have your geniuses? What's the point in me?"

"Ah!" He laughs, "That's where you're mistaken! I have geniuses, yes! I have engineers, strategists, and drivers, all of whom are brilliant. But I have no one who understands cars like you. None who can give me what I want."

"What do you want?"

"A championship."

"Big talk."

"Big offers, too," Fred countered. "Alessandro has the details. Take your time to think it over."

"And if I say no?"

"Then Alessandro will enjoy his vacation in Texas, and I'll keep calling until you change your mind," Fred said.

The line went dead, leaving Nomi standing in the heat, staring at her phone as if it might offer her answers.

From across the track, Alessandro approached a folder in hand and a cautious smile on his face. "Well," he said, offering her the paperwork, "if nothing else, you've got Fred's attention."

"And you've got a long paid vacation in Texas."

Nomi actually loved where she was from.

She was a country girl through and through.

She loved the dirt, the tall grass, she loved her home and their animals and she was enamored by the old cars and dirt tracks, and the endless rocky roads she could skid down without repercussions.

The point is, she loved Texas. And she had only ventured away from her lovely abode only a few short times.

When she spent those four years away at college in Boston that was a twenty-three-hour drive and not a twenty-hour flight across the world.

She had yet to tell her family about the offer she had received.

She already knew how her family would react.

Her mother would get all pissy and sour and scold her father for encouraging her to go. She wouldn't want her to go. She'd be overly cautious. Her mind would reel about every bad thing that could happen to her baby, especially on another continent.

And her brother, he'd ask her what she wanted to do.

Which is why she asks him first.

She's fresh out of the shower, skin slathered in cocoa butter and hair braided down for the night when she leaves the ranch house and walks down to his house about fifteen acres down the trail. She could’ve taken the four-wheeler and cut that trip down to about a few minutes but she instead used the time to reel over her possibilities.

Her brain worked logically at all times, there were facts and then there were the very motives that contradict her ever wanting to take this chance.

She'd have to relocate to Maranello - fact.

Which would mean leaving Texas.

She'd have more money than she could spend - fact.

Money as of late hadn't been a factor.

She'd be making a name for herself in the motorsport world.

She was already an acclaimed engineer.

JJ's house came into view, and his porch light welcomed her as it always had.

She climbed the steps and knocked lightly before letting herself in.

He looked up from the couch, a half-empty beer in hand. “What’s up, sis?”

Nomi hesitated, leaning against the doorframe. “Got a question for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“If someone offered you the world… but it meant leaving everything you loved behind… would you take it?”

Her brother set down the beer, studying her for a long moment. “That depends,” he said slowly. “Do you love what you’d be leaving more than you want what they’re offering?”

Nomi didn’t reply right away. She glanced out the window, where the Texas stars stretched endlessly overhead. "No."

Her brother smiled faintly, "That just means you're comfortable. Comfort is a luxury you've had your whole life. Do you want to be comfortable or do you want a thrill?"

Nomi sighs and plops down on the couch beside her brother.

"I received an offer."

"I figured," He chuckled, reaching for the remote and lowering the volume on the TV, "from?"

"Ferarri."

JJ whoops and literally jumps up from his seat, his beer sloshing onto his hand slightly. "Nomi! That's huge!"

Nomi drums her fingers against her knees, and JJ's eyes follow the movement.

"What do you think?" He tries his best to let the expectant look drop from his face. She didn't have a follow-up for his question.

"Okay," he breathes, settling back down onto the couch and wiping his hands on his jeans. Here's what I think, I think you've worked your ass off for years. You’re already one of the best engineers in the game. No one’s gonna tell you to take the offer, but you’ve earned that kind of opportunity."

“But...” he pressed, his voice softer now. “You know what it means. You’ve got a life here. You’ve got us.”

Nomi nods, "Which is why I shouldn't take it, right?"

"But that's the beautiful thing about family, Nomi. We'll always be here waiting for you. If that's your deciding factor, I've answered it. Mama might be a little down about it, pops a little too excited, but we'll always be here waiting and accepting you back with open arms."

"It is Ferrari," Nomi whispers.

"Exactly," JJ nudges her with his shoulder, "I can't see myself living in a world where Nomi Williams turns down an offer from Ferrari, the girl who named her horse Maranello, the girl who painted her first car red by herself. I mean you manifested this."

"When you tell Mama and Pops you're going, lead with that maybe."

"I never said I was taking it."

"I know you, Nomi."

The relationship between a driver and his race engineer is... delicate.

Yes, delicate. That's how Lewis would describe it.

There's a need for balance and understanding. For the relationship to thrive, there needs to be this consistent effort.

The engineer should want the win just as much as the driver if not more, and they should do anything to get them there.

Lewis had Bono, and up until last season, he was sure he'd found the perfect partner in the racing world.

They had a certain level of trust in each other.

But here's the thing about trust: it takes time to be built but can easily be broken.

Lewis wouldn't say his trust in Bono had completely fallen to pieces; it wasn't shattered, but the cracks had surely shown towards the end.

This is why he's a bit weary of whoever will be directing him this year.

He was starting over from scratch; this person would have to learn his driving style and the perfect balance between him and the car, and they'd have to trust his word. They'd have to trust him, too.

And in return, he'd have to trust them too.

Lewis didn't particularly like testing days.

In fact, he's opted out of testing for the last few years, instead giving the reserve drivers extra time in the car. But this year was different.

He was no longer at Mercedes; he was with Ferrari and knew absolutely nothing.

It's his main concern. It reeled over in his mind from the second he woke up, all the way into the showers; it lingered with him. It clung to him as he got dressed, and it rode in the car with him all the way to the track.

He could imagine him now, balding, with grey hair, slim and tall. That description seemed to fit too many of the Ferrari team.

He was sure it was a part of the application.

40+. Check

White/Italian. Check

Male. Double-check

Maybe they'd even thrown in a quiz. Describe the essence of Enzo Ferrari in 100 words or less.

Lewis sighed, picturing his engineer explaining strategy in a heavy accent, a cigarette dangling precariously between their fingers. "No push now, Lewis. Is good time for espresso."

He let out a laugh under his breath. If the guy showed up in red loafers and a silk scarf, he might lose it entirely.

So when he stepped into the Ferrari garage and saw his new race engineer for the first time, Lewis froze.

She wasn't 40.

She wasn't balding.

And she definitely wasn't a man.

Instead, she was... young. Younger than him. A woman with sharp brown eyes, a no-nonsense expression, and hair tied back in a ponytail like she didn't have the time to do anything else with it.

No cigarette. No espresso.

No red silk scarf, no loafers.

Just a clipboard, a laptop, and a very unimpressed look.

"Well," she said, glancing at her watch. "Glad you could finally make it, Mr. Hamilton. Ready to work, or should I grab you a cappuccino first?"

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, half in surprise, half in wonder, and used the moment to take her in. "I'm good."

"Great." She pivoted on her heel, moving quickly towards the car without even so much as a look over her shoulder.

Lewis catches on to the fact that he's supposed to be following her and quickly does so.

"We've got a lot of work to do."

"You're my race engineer?" He asks. And she stops in her tracks, her fingers passing the typing on the laptop she carried in her arm.

"Oh my god, you're so smart." She says dryly before continuing her march. "My name is Nomi."

"Right," Lewis muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Sharp tongue, check. "How long have you been with Ferrari?"

"Long enough to know how this team works," she replied, stopping abruptly in front of the car. "Which, by the way, is about 80% drama, 15% tradition, and 5% actual racing. Welcome to the circus."

Lewis huffed out a surprised laugh. He hadn't expected that level of honesty. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

Nomi turned to face him, one eyebrow arching slightly. "I don't figure things out, Mr. Hamilton. I know them. And what I know right now is that you've got a lot to learn about this car."

"And you've got a lot to learn about me." He shot back. She freezes, and for a second, he's sure he's managed to fuck up just that fast, but then her face twitches, and a shit-eating smile takes over her lips.

"Good, let's start with that." She closes the laptop, nestling it and the clipboard under her arm, "Get in. I need data, and you need laps. Unless you'd prefer to chat over tea and biscuits?"

Lewis smirked, a flicker of amusement breaking through his guarded exterior. "Not really my style."

"Shame," Nomi deadpanned. "I had the good biscuits ready, too."

In the car, her voice crackles over the earpiece, "Radio check. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear." Lewis chuckles to himself after sending through his message.

Here, he was worried about the thick Italian accents when, in reality, a Texan drawl would be his biggest concern.

"Good," Nomi said. "Let's get you out there. Take your out-lap steady—no heroics. Just need to get some baseline data first."

"Oh, so you're taking the fun out of it."

"Fun comes later, cowboy," she shot back without missing a beat. "Let's see if you can even handle my upgrades before you start showing off. Pit lane's clear; when you're ready, take her out."

And he does.

And what this car is is nothing short of magnificent.

Lewis hadn't felt this fast since the W11.

And somehow, impossibly, this car felt even more alive than that.

"Steering is okay?"

"Feels good. Maybe a touch light, but I'll let you know after the first lap."

"Copy. We've got the brake bias forward by a click from Charles' run, but I can adjust it if it's not working for you."

Lewis took the car through the first corner, feeling out the balance. "Front's biting nicely. The rear feels planted so far."

"Not bad," she said, focused. "Don't get too comfortable, though. I set it up a little aggressive. Want to see how you handle it."

He smirked, pushing the throttle a little harder into the next straight. The car responded immediately, and he was a little shocked by just how smooth the power delivery was.

"This is aggressive?"

"Don't tempt me, Lewis," she warned a hint of laughter in her voice. "If you're not sweating by the end of this stint, I haven't done my job."

Alright, Nomi. Let's see what you've got."

Lewis grinned as he tore down the straight; the car hummed beneath him. He hadn't expected to feel this good or this fast. It was almost like Ferrari was trying to make up for years of... well, being Ferrari.

"Feels like you've been holding out on Charles," Lewis quipped as he braked hard into the next corner.

"Not at all," Nomi replied smoothly, her voice calm in his ear. "I just know how to set up a car for a seven-time world champion."

Lewis barked out a laugh, surprised at how easily the compliment—or was it a dig?—slipped in. "Careful, Nomi. Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Noted," she said dryly. "But don't get cocky yet. We're still in the honeymoon phase. Wait until you start complaining about understeer mid-race."

Lewis shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he powered through another series of corners. "You've got me all figured out, huh?"

"I'm working on it," Nomi shot back. "And so far, you're about 50% talent, 40% ego, and 10% British politeness."

"Politeness?"

"Well, you did say thank you when I told you to get in the car. That's rare around here."

He chuckled, easing into the next corner and letting the car prom through the apex. The setup really was aggressive but in the best way possible.

"You weren't kidding about this being aggressive," Lewis said after a moment. "But it's good. Real good."

"Good," Nomi replied, efficient again. "Push a little harder on the next lap. I need data on high-speed cornering, and we'll see if those tires hold up."

"Copy that," Lewis said, already lining up the next straight.

For a few laps, their conversation shifted into a steady tempo of feedback and adjustments.

It was familiar territory for Lewis, but there was something different about Nomi's style.

For one, she was sharper, more direct. She didn't waste time explaining things he didn't need to know, but when she did speak, it was clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

As he brought the car back into the pits after the stint, Lewis found himself smiling despite the sweat dripping down his face.

When he climbed out of the car, Nomi was already waiting for him, arms crossed and a faintly smug expression on her face. "Well?" she asked.

"Not bad," Lewis said, grabbing a towel and wiping his face. "I could get used to this."

"Good. It was nice meeting you; I'm guessing I'll see you again in a month or so?"

"I-uh, yeah." Lewis reaches his hand out, "Nice meeting you too."

Nomi accepts the gesture, her hand slotting into his, "90% talent, 10% British politeness."

And then she saunters away, disappearing within some doors, so quickly and slyly that Lewis questions if he imagined her.

"Met Nomi, I see."

It's Charles. Face dripping with sweat fresh out of his car.

"Yeah." Lewis nods, still eyeing the doors where she disappeared. "She's... young," Lewis said after a beat, unsure if he meant it as an observation or a question.

Charles chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the nearest workstation. "Young, yes. But if you think that means inexperienced, you're in for a surprise. Nomi's why we got 22 podiums last season and, frankly, the only reason we're not running a mid-pack car right now. She doesn't miss."

"She wasn't a race engineer last season, though?"

"No." Charles affirms, "But when she wasn't busy working on the 2025 car and tweaking her engine, she was upgrading our cars."

"Working on the car, tweaking the engine? You're saying that-"

"I'm saying that every piece of these cars came from blueprints she has scribbled in her notebook."

Fred approaches as Lewis states his next question, "And you trust her to build a championship-winning car?"

Fred shrugged, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I trust her to make this car faster than it has any right to be. Whether that's good enough for a championship—well, that's up to you guys."

first fic of the new year 🥳

taglist: @harrys-hs-gf1 @ariesmai @lh44girl @wabi-sabi1090 @nayaesworld @strengthandstay @annisassintchaska @greedyjudge2

[freshl6ve]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒. 𝐒 | 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐏 & 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄¹

⭑.ᐟ : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬, a vibrant tapestry of lights and traffic that never quite reached campus grounds. Night had cast its cloak over the college campus, leaving the place enveloped in an ephemeral darkness.

As the last rays of the sun surrendered to the velvet canvas of twilight, the students prepared to break their routines. The classrooms emptied, leaving behind echoes of muffled conversations and the occasional laughter. The campus roads were lined with cars as students began packing up their belongings.

As I made my way to my car, my voice laced with exhaustion, I clutched the phone tightly to my ear, my eyes searching for my vehicle in the dimly lit parking lot.

“What’s wrong with it now?” I asked, a hint of impatience coloring my voice.

The person on the other end of the line let out a deep sigh. “It’s the engine again. Another problem, same as last time,” they reported. I felt my shoulders slump in defeat. “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. The engine problems were becoming a recurring nightmare. It was like the universe had it out for me. I leaned against the car, the frustration seeping into my bones.

The person on the other end of the line could sense my exhaustion. “You sound beat, Y/N. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, brushing off any signs of worry. “Just the usual finals stress. Haven’t been getting much sleep since I’ve been too busy working on the car.” The person on the other end of the line let out a reassuring hum, their voice carrying a hint of concern. “Maybe you should scale back on the mechanic stuff for a bit, Y/N. You need to rest too, you know.”

I reassured the person on the line, “I’ll be alright. Don't worry about me,” with a hint of determination in my voice. With my keys in hand and my bag slung over my shoulder, I climbed into my car, the engine purring to life. As the conversation continued, I announced, “I’ll swing by your place to check your engine before I head home.”

There was a brief silence on their end before a reluctant sigh sounded through the receiver. “Fine, but don’t wear yourself out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there,” I assured, my voice filled with determination. With a final farewell, I ended the call and tossed my backpack onto the passenger seat, my fingers closing around the steering wheel. Taking one last look at my car, I revved the engine and pulled out of the driveway, my mind set on reaching my destination.

The streets were relatively quiet, the city's pulse slowly calming as the early morning hours approached. I navigated through the streets with ease, a sense of purpose fueling my every move.

The drive was mostly quiet, the only sounds filling the space my soft breaths and a faint hum of the engine. I maneuvered the wheel, my mind lost in a storm of thoughts and emotions. The closer I got to my destination, the more my heart thudded in my chest, a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

Finally, I pulled up to a modest house, the streetlights casting long shadows across the lawn. I put the car in park, killed the engine, and took a deep breath, gathering my composure before stepping out into the cool night air.

As I stepped into the well-lit garage, I first noticed a guy perched on the hood of his car, his attention fixed on his phone. The soft glow of the screen lit up his face, casting a soft glow against his features.

His head jerked up as the sound of my footsteps echoed in the garage, and he looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine. A hint of recognition flickered in his gaze before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Finally, you’re here,” he said, his voice laced with a mixture of relief and curiosity. He slipped his phone into his pocket, his full attention now on me. I returned his smile with a nod, my eyes taking in the garage around me.

“Yeah, sorry I took a while,” I replied, my voice betraying the casualness I was trying to project. I set my bag down on a nearby workbench before approaching his car, my gaze drawn to the car he had.

As I approached, the car he was sitting on came into full view. It was a beautiful dark blue Nissan Skyline R34, its sleek lines and smooth paint job a sight to behold. My steps faltered for a second, a small pang of jealousy stirring within me. It was a gorgeous car.

He sensed my admiration and slipped off the hood, giving me space to open the hood. I took a deep breath before reaching for the hood latch, the metal creaking softly as it unlocked, letting the hood pop open.

The engine lay bare before me, a tangle of metal and cables. I scanned it with a professional eye, mentally cataloging any signs of wear and tear. The air between us grew tense with anticipation as I began to poke around, my fingers exploring the intricate parts.

“When did you start having problems?” I asked, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart.

He leaned against the car, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched me with a mix of curiosity and something unreadable. “It started sputtering last week.” he admitted, “And there’s been a weird noise coming from the engine. I can’t quite figure out what it is.”

My hands moved deftly, feeling along the engine, checking for anything out of place. As I worked, I couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “Did you perchance race last week? Maybe took a sharp turn or so?”

He pushed off the car and came to stand closer, watching me with a frown. “Yeah, actually. How did you know?”

I continued to work, my fingers tracing the lines and cables of the engine. As I moved around, I finally spotted the problem.

“Found the issue,” I said, my voice steady. “Looks like one of your spark plugs is misfiring. It’s probably from the sharp turn during the race. I’ll just need to replace it, and that should fix the problem.”

He let out a low whistle, his gaze fixed on the engine. “Damn, it’s that serious?” he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, a hint of concern flitting across his face. “How long will it take to fix?”

I took a step back, wiping the grease off my hands on a rag lying on the workbench. “Shouldn’t take too long,” I assured him. “I can have it done in a few hours. Got a spare part with me that I can replace it with.”

He visibly relaxed, a sigh of relief escaping him. “Good, good,” he nodded, his shoulders losing some of the tension. He glanced at me, his expression thoughtful. “You know your stuff, huh?”

I moved away from the engine and headed back to my bag at the workbench. “Well, my dad taught me most about cars,” I answered, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips at the mention of him. “I guess I just picked up a lot from him over the years.”

I rummaged through my bag, a frown of confusion marring my expression as I didn’t find the spare part where I remembered putting it. “Damn, I thought I had it in here,” I muttered, a hint of irritation in my voice.

He watched me from a distance, his eyes curiously following my every move. “Problem?” he asked, sensing my frustration.

I shook my head, pushing the annoyance aside. “No, just misplacing things,” I replied. “I’ll just check the trunk. I keep spare parts there as well.”

As I headed towards the trunk, he followed, his steps falling in line with mine. He leaned against the side of the car, his gaze fixed on me, his curiosity seemingly growing.

I popped the trunk, the lid rising with a soft click, revealing a well-organized stash of spare parts. A wave of relief washed over me, and I quickly rummaged through the selection until I found the part I was looking for. With a satisfied exhale, I closed the trunk and turned back to him, holding up the part in triumph.

I returned to the garage, the spare part clutched in my hand. With a purposeful stride, I moved toward his car, the engine lying open, ready to be worked on. He stood watching me, his arms still folded across his chest, a mixture of curiosity and admiration visible on his face.

I set the part on the workbench and grabbed my tools. Returning to the engine, I began the process of replacing the misfiring spark plug. My hands moved with practiced ease, the task as familiar to me as breathing.

The garage filled with the sound of soft, metallic clinks and the occasional muttered curse as I fumbled with a particularly stubborn screw. The work consumed my attention, and I was almost entirely focused on the engine, completely forgetting about his presence for a few moments.

His voice broke through my concentration, and I jumped in surprise, the suddenness of his words making me realize I hadn't been paying attention. I looked over at him, my heart still racing, and he chuckled softly at the reaction, before saying, “I’ll be right back. Gotta grab something.”

As he turned to leave, I spoke up, my voice a little shaky, “Can you hand me your keys?” I requested.

He paused, his hand on the garage door handle, and looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “My keys? What for?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I shifted my gaze back to the engine, feeling a flicker of annoyance at his questioning. “I need them to check for that weird noise you mentioned,” I explained, my tone matter-of-fact. “Keys, please.”

He regarded me for a moment, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, before digging into his pocket and tossing the keys over to me.

I caught the keys with a swift motion, my mind already back on the engine. The absence of his eyes on me allowed me to focus completely on the task at hand. He lingered for a moment longer, watching me from a distance before disappearing through the door, leaving me alone with the engine and my thoughts.

With the keys in my possession, I went back to work, my hands moving swiftly and efficiently through the engine. The process was soothing, a familiar routine that allowed my mind to clear. I worked in silence, the mechanics of the engine becoming my world for what felt like a few minutes but was probably much longer.

With the keys in my possession, I went back to work, my hands moving swiftly and efficiently through the engine. The process was soothing, a familiar routine that allowed my mind to clear. I worked in silence, the mechanics of the engine becoming my world for what felt like a few minutes but was probably much longer.

I finished the last adjustments to the engine, a sense of satisfaction coursing through me. Brushing my grease-stained hands on a rag, I moved quickly to the driver’s side of the car, keys still in my hand.

I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather shifting softly under me. Putting the keys in the ignition, I paused for a moment, my ears straining for any unusual sounds coming from the engine.

I started the engine, allowing it to idle for a moment. No unusual noises emerged, only the steady purr of the engine. I killed the engine, a wave of satisfaction washing over me. Everything seemed to be in order.

I got out of the car, closing the door behind me. I returned to the engine, my mind running checks and tests to ensure I hadn’t missed anything. A quick double-check wouldn’t hurt, just to make sure I had done everything correctly.

As I leaned over the engine, my attention fixed on the parts and cables, I heard a soft click from somewhere in the garage. My mind registered it but didn’t fully process it, too engrossed in my work.

I pulled back, satisfied with the double-check, and spoke aloud, my voice confident, “Looks like it’s working just fine now, Matt.”

I pulled back from the engine, my eyes naturally seeking the person who I had assumed to be Matt. But as I looked, my eyes widened in surprise.

The person standing there looked eerily similar to Matt, but a few details were off. Instead of Matt’s short hair, this guy’s was slightly longer, covering his ears a bit more than Matt’s hair and his jawline was a bit sharper than Matt’s.

I frowned, confusion and curiosity mixing on my face. “Oh. You’re not Matt,” I muttered, my voice betraying my surprise.

As he stood there silently, his eyes raking over me, a shiver ran down my spine. I shifted uncomfortably, unused to being scrutinized in such a way.

I cleared my throat and asked, my voice more confident than I felt, “Umm, do you know where Matt is?”

As if on cue, Matt appeared from a door behind the mysterious guy, his voice stern yet weary. “Leave her alone, Chris, go back inside dude,” he commanded, a hint of irritation in his tone.

The guy, now known as Chris, finally looked away from me, his gaze returning to Matt. He smirked and leaned nonchalantly against the workbench.

Chris smirked, his eyes flickering over me once more before replying to Matt, “Relax, I wasn’t going to do anything.”

Matt rolled his eyes, a weary expression on his face, before he walked over to where I stood, his attention fixed on me. His gaze softened as he spoke, “Knowing your ass you would’ve tried to make her sleep with you.”

He shot a look towards Chris before turning back to me, his voice gentler. “Don’t mind him,” he added.

My gaze flickered between Matt and Chris, the similarities between the two more obvious now that they were side by side.

“So,” I drawled, my eyes tracing their features. “There’s two of you?” Chris snickered, a sly grin on his face, while Matt shot him another annoyed look.

Chris chuckled, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “There’s actually three of us,” he explained, gesturing at Matt and then himself. “He’s the oldest, Matt’s the middle child, and I’m the youngest.”

I blinked, my mind trying to wrap around this new information. Three of them? Identical triplets? It was a lot to take in.

I redirected my attention to Matt, a hint of disbelief in my voice, “You’re a triplet? And you didn’t tell me for the year we’ve known each other?”

Matt shrugged, sheepishness written across his face. “It just never came up, I guess,” he replied, avoiding my gaze. Chris snickered, clearly enjoying the interaction.

Matt shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I know you're upset,” he began, his voice apologetic. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

I shook my head, a small laugh escaping me. “Why would I be upset?” I responded, a hint of playfulness in my voice. “It’s cool to know you’re a triplet. Just kinda wish I knew sooner.”

I gestured at Matt, a playful smile on my face, “You do realize I just called him ‘Matt’ and thought it was you?” I pointed out, my eyes flicking between the two triplets. “I got quite confused, wondering how your hair grew after a few minutes of being gone.”

Chris laughed, clearly enjoying the situation, while Matt shook his head, a slight blush creeping up his neck.

He cleared his throat, his shoulders hunching a bit in embarrassment. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled, his eyes avoiding mine. “It’s... it’s confusing for everyone.”

Chris, still leaning against the workbench, smirked. “We get that all the time,” he chipped in, a sly tone to his voice. “Everyone gets us mixed up. Can’t blame you though.”

I directed my gaze towards Chris, a question in my eyes. “If you’re Chris, and you’re Matt, who’s the other?”

Before Matt could answer, Chris cut in with a smirk, “Nick, he’s the older triplet.” Matt shot Chris an annoyed look, clearly not happy that his brother was disclosing information before he could.

I nodded, absorbing the new information. Three identical triplets. It was certainly something I had never encountered before. Chris chuckled, amused at my surprise.

“You should see how confused people get when they meet us,” he said, his voice tinged with mischief. “It’s quite entertaining.”

Matt shot him another look. “Shut up, Chris,” he muttered, his tone more amused than irritated. “What?” Chris protested, his smirk widening. “It’s true, man.”

As they continued bantering, arguing like siblings often do, my ears picked up the faint sound of my phone buzzing, coming from my bag near the workbench.

I moved over to the bag, rummaging inside and fishing out my phone. It was a message from my friend.

As I read the message, my eyes widened in realization. The reminder about the essay due today sent a jolt of panic through me. I grabbed the phone and quickly stuffed the phone back into my bag.

Chris, who had been leaning on the workbench, caught the change in my demeanor. He raised an eyebrow as I began packing my tools up. “Everything okay?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

I paused, turning to him for a moment. “Yeah, I just... I completely forgot I had an essay due today,” I explained, the urgency in my voice noticeable. “I have to get going.”

Matt's voice called out just as I was about to get into my car. “Let me pay you for fixing the—” he offered, but I cut him off, shaking my head. “No need,” I repeated, “I’ll see you guys around.”

As I was getting into the car, Chris suddenly cut in with a flirty grin, “See you around, darling.” He earned a swift smack to the head from Matt.

My cheeks heated up at Chris’s cheeky remark, but I tried to play it off with a scoff. I ducked into the car, hearing Chris’s laughter and Matt’s muttered curses.

“Don’t mind him,” Matt’s voice called out apologetically. “He doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

I pulled out of the driveway, still trying to ignore Chris’s comment from earlier. My mind was now fully on the essay assignment that I had forgotten about, and the race against time to get it done before the deadline.

The drive home was a blur as I mentally organized my thoughts and planned out how to approach the essay.

A/N: MY FIRST SERIES FINALLY OUT FOR THE NEW YEAR! HOPE YALL ENJOY IT & YES THIS IS A REMAKE OF MY OTHER STREET RACING STORY ON @cyberl6ve

THANK YOU FOR 1K!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!! 🧡🥹

TAGS: @st6rify ✮⋆˙ @jetaimevous ✮⋆˙ @certifiedstarrr ✮⋆˙ @slvtf0rchr1s ✮⋆˙ @l3sbiancvnt ✮⋆˙ @wh0remikasas ✮⋆˙ @r0s3luvr. ✮⋆˙ @emely9274 ✮⋆˙ @mimiluvzpicklez ✮⋆˙ @courta13

── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃

[little-jana]

"Tension and Snowstorms"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: tension, kissing

Words: 1.6k

Summary: A snowstorm leads to Spencer and Reader being consumed by their ongoing tension.

The case had wrapped up late, as always. Everyone was exhausted, but a mix of relief and anticipation had settled over the team. New Year’s Eve was only hours away, and all I wanted was to get back home, put the past few days behind me, and enjoy some quiet time.

But fate had other plans.

The storm had hit harder than expected, and with the snow piling up outside, the airline had canceled all flights. That’s how I found myself in the hotel lobby, looking at Spencer Reid, who had that familiar expression of uncertainty on his face. We were the only two left from the team, the others already having found alternate routes or heading to their homes by car.

Spencer looked over at me, his brown eyes wide behind his glasses, his usual awkwardness radiating off him. “I… guess it looks like we’re stuck here for another night.”

I nodded, my mind a little clouded by the unexpected turn of events. I hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, just the two of us. I’d always been drawn to him, but there was this silent, unspoken tension that had been building for months. There were moments, brief and fleeting, when I’d catch him looking at me a little too long, when his eyes would linger on my lips longer than necessary, when his voice would drop just enough to make my heart beat a little faster.

But now, with the hotel practically empty, it felt different. The air was thick with something I couldn’t quite name, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute.

“Want to grab dinner?” I asked, trying to break the quiet.

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’m starving. Just… let me change real quick.”

I gave him a small smile, trying to ignore the way my stomach fluttered. “Alright, I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty?”

“Sounds good,” he said, his voice almost breathless.

I walked away, my mind racing. There was something about the way he said that, like he was a little too eager, too nervous. It had been building for a while now—the attraction between us, the moments of stolen glances, the lingering touches when we’d pass things to each other, when we’d brush hands. But we’d never acted on it. He was still haunted by his past, and I was unsure if he’d ever want to cross that line.

I tried to shake it off as I returned to my room. A nice dinner with Spencer would be fine. Nothing more. After all, he was a colleague. A brilliant, quirky colleague who happened to be incredibly attractive. But I didn’t want to acknowledge that too much.

When I met him in the lobby later, I could see the tension in his posture. He was fidgeting with his glasses, a telltale sign that he was nervous. “Ready?” I asked, my voice softer than usual.

Spencer cleared his throat, adjusting his jacket. “Yeah, uh, just trying to decide if I should keep my jacket on or not.”

I took a step closer, resisting the urge to laugh at how nervous he was. “It’s freezing outside, Spencer. I think keeping it on is a good idea.”

He glanced at me, a little flush creeping up his neck. “Right, yeah, I was just thinking—never mind. Lead the way?”

I smiled, though it felt a little strained. “Sure.”

The restaurant wasn’t far, and as we walked together, the snow began to fall, creating a blanket of silence around us. It was quiet, and all I could hear was the crunch of our footsteps in the snow and the occasional hum of a car passing by. Spencer walked just a little too close, his shoulder brushing mine more often than was necessary. Each time it happened, my heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t tell if it was the cold or something else making me feel this way.

By the time we sat down for dinner, the atmosphere was even more charged. I couldn’t quite look him in the eye for too long, but I couldn’t stop stealing glances at his profile. The way his dark hair fell just right, how his lips moved when he spoke. I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart, as though it were picking up on the tension between us. Spencer, for his part, seemed just as affected. He was constantly shifting in his seat, picking at the edges of his napkin, his eyes darting toward mine before quickly looking away.

Dinner dragged on, but not in the usual way. Every moment felt like it was stretching, and the spaces between our words seemed longer, filled with something unsaid. I had the feeling that Spencer was keeping himself in check, maybe out of some sort of fear. Fear of what, though? Of me? Of his feelings? I had no idea. But it was maddening.

By the time we paid the check, my nerves were shot. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the proximity to him, but something inside me felt like it might snap.

We returned to the hotel, the hallway eerily quiet. Spencer had his hands in his pockets, and I could tell he was trying to keep his distance. But when we reached the door to my room, he paused, hesitating just outside it.

“Are you, uh…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “are you sure you want to go to bed already?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. There was something in his voice, a slight crack in his usual composed tone. I wasn’t sure if it was a hint or if he was just trying to make small talk to fill the silence.

“I’m not really tired,” I said, a little too quickly. “But I’m not really sure what else to do either.”

Spencer’s gaze flickered to mine, the tension between us palpable. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly toward me. “You know, I was thinking we could—”

“Spencer,” I cut him off, my heart racing. “We don’t have to do this.”

He froze. “Do what?”

I stared at him, the distance between us shrinking with every passing second. “We both know there’s something here, but I don’t want to make things complicated. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

He exhaled sharply, his eyes darkening. “I don’t know how to do this with you, okay?” His voice was strained, like he was fighting to keep his composure. “I’ve been trying so hard to pretend that there isn’t something between us, but I can’t anymore.”

My breath hitched in my throat as I watched his struggle. “What do you want from me, Spencer?”

He took a step closer, his face just inches from mine now. I could feel his breath on my skin, the heat of his body, and it made my heart race. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered. “But I want you. I can’t pretend that I don’t.”

The words hung in the air like a confession, raw and unspoken for so long. And in that moment, I knew that whatever had been building between us, whatever tension had been stretching thin for months, was about to break.

Before I could respond, he reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing the side of my face. It was soft and careful, but it ignited something deep inside me. He leaned in just enough that our lips were barely a breath away, and I could feel the weight of everything unsaid between us.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “But I can’t hold back anymore.”

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t slow or tentative. It was desperate, urgent, as though we were both craving something we’d been denying ourselves for too long. The tension had snapped, and now all that was left was the heat and the electricity between us, crackling and alive.

His hands were on my back, pulling me closer, and I responded eagerly, my hands threading into his hair, tangling in the soft strands. I had no idea where this would lead, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t care. All I knew was that Spencer Reid was kissing me like he’d been wanting to for far too long.

And I was more than willing to let him.

[videolaa]

A New Years Kiss: Minho

Hello, long time no see. Happy New Year. Please enjoy this unedited, extremely poorly written one-shot. From a tired, hungover writer. As always, all rights go to videolaa. You are not allowed to discredit my work, I don't post anywhere else unless stated by me.

You batted your eyes, trying to adjust to the lighting in the room. What would have been distant sounds from the kitchen sounded like loud bangs from your newfound hangover. As your vision cleared enough, your eyes widened, realizing that wasn't your bedroom door. This wasn't your bedroom, your sheets, none of it.

An arm tossed itself over your side, making you tense at the feeling onto your bare skin.

Slowly turning to find Minho, sound asleep next to you, shirtless. There was a hard gulp in your throat, trying to process everything that happened, as you tried to piece the puzzle of last night together. A part of you wanted to wake Minho up and ask what happened, but he looked so at peace that you couldn't pull yourself to do it.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to remember everything.

You and your friends decided to go out for a few drinks and watch the countdown. While everyone discussed who's car was taking who to where, you went to get ready. It was new years after all, might as well dress up a bit.

Hyunjin poked fun at you from the drivers seat about Minho, possibly showing up, which made you want to dress up. He wasn't entirely wrong. You did like Minho. He was built, handsome, and he had a beautiful smile that sometimes resembled a bunny. He knew how to make you laugh, especially on days when you felt like crying. Some people said he seemed cold or distant, only they didn't know how caring, funny, and soft Minho was. So maybe you did dress up to see if he would notice yet enough to still blend in for the evening.

He showed up and stuck to the guys and you like you. Slick shots, chasers, and mixing drinks began to swirl with your thoughts. At one point, Seungmin teased you both about not having anyone to kiss at midnight. Remembering you were ready to fire back a comment until Minho raised an eyebrow with a smirk looking at you. "Your alcohol is talking," you pointed out. Minho shrugged, "Mine doesn't have me turning red. Well, how 'bout it. Be my midnight kiss?".

It's just a kiss. He was consenting to it, "Okay. I'll be your midnight kiss." At the twenty-second mark, take a shot for courage.

"10" his eyes went between your lips and eyes, double checking if you were positive with this.

"9" you nodded your head before both of looked at the screen like everyone else.

"8" an arm rested on your back.

"7" the world was quiet.

"6" both of you were leaning in with your hands snaking around his shoulders.

"5" Both of you closed your eyes, and leaned in.

That was all you could remember, not even the cheering. You rubbed your temple, embarrassed by last nights actions. One kiss shouldn't have led to waking up in his bed.

"He's gonna think I'm easy" you mumbled as quietly as possible. You liked him, maybe someone mentioned it and he used it to his advantage - especially adding alcohol into the mix...

With as much strength as you could muster you swung your legs off his bed, trying to slip away in order to get to your trail of close.

Freezing as you heard a tired groan, with a cat like stretch, "Leaving?"

"Yeah," you felt self-conscious now that you were sober, still bare in front of the guy you liked. You wouldn't be surprised if your makeup was smeared across your face. "Give me a minute, and I'll take you home" his voice raspy as he went to leave his bed. "I can call Hyunjin..."

"I'm sorry about... everything," he mumbled. "Don't be, we're both at fault" The air felt unfinished, as if more was supposed to be said, but neither of you could find the right words. "Tell me, do you remember last night?" you asked, quickly pulling your shirt over your head. "Everything got blurry a little after we kissed."

"Was it bad?" Your fingers quickly scrolling to your best friend's contact.

"No, and I don't think the rest was either," his ears were turning pink, causing you to giggle, seeing that thankfully, neither of you remember coming back. "I do remember a certain someone liked having her hands in my hair," he laughed, causing the heat to rise to your face, hitting the call button, your heart leaping to your throat. "I didn't mean -"

"Don't worry, I liked it"

"What?" You stared in disbelief. That did not just come out of his mouth, which had a mischievous smile forming, "I said, I liked it."

Your face was burning, so visible it had Minho shrugging on a pair of sweats as he came over, cupping your face, "You're so red,"

"So are your ears," you shot back. Then he did it again, eyes flickering from your eyes to your mouth. Only his eyes were softer, sober, a soft hello being heard from your phone, repeatedly. "Shit! Hello, sorry"

"You call and don't say anything? Do you want me to have a heart attack?" Hyunjin screamed, bringing throbbing of your head hit you harder than before. "Don't be dramatic, I don't want you to have a heart attack. I was going to ask what you were doing right now -" an echo of vomit, followed by the sound of flushing, was heard in the background. "Are you sick?" Minho raised an eyebrow at the question.

"It comes and goes, last night really-" Hyunjin's body cut him off again, the mere sound was enough to make you feel queasy. "Hello? Is someone there with you?" your voice switched to concern. Only relief you got was Changbin answering, "I got him. He'll be fine. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I was just trying to check in" you explain.

"And that she has a ride home!" Minho said closer to the phone. "Can you take care of him?" you asked before Hyunjin mumbled something, "Yeah I can do that - she's fine, you two can talk about it later! Minho has her, she's fine! (Y/n) can you call him later?" Changbin huffed. "Yes I promise," you sighed with a slight laughter before hanging up, placing your phone in your back pocket.

"Did that kill the mood?" The feeling of guilt, seeing how close Minho was standing. "Not entirely - could have gone without hearing him sick," he scoffed, but you agreed.

Minho lifted his hand back up to your cheek, "I might though," you stated as his hand froze, letting you continue. "I know last night wasn't planned, and maybe a mistake, but I don't do friends with benefits. So if you want that I can't do that. Plus I really like you I'm not putting myself in a situation like -" you were explaining only to be cut off by a pair of lips.

Shock ran through you at the feeling of his lips on yours. You couldn't help but lean into it yourself. Shutting your eyes, sparks flew across your eyelids. Your hands flew to the back of his neck, Minho pulled away, resting his forehead against your shoulder, "I don't who you believe in but, thank God. I've had liked you for such a long time"

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, a couple people figured it out. Then last night happened and... I didn't plan on taking you home. I wanted to kiss you, but I planned on asking you out on a date" Minho dumped his confession, leaving you speechless.

This gorgeous man, who could have anyone he wanted, who seemed so far out of your league, wanted you? The new year barely started, but the last 24 hours definitely were not expected.

All you could do was laugh, and kiss him again. "We don't have to do anything but come back to bed? I'll put a movie on and we can just -"

"Lay there?" you finished his sentence.

"Or sleep off two hangovers" he joked.

"I would love that." Minho pulled you back to the mattress at your answer.

"Happy new year Minho"

"Same to you, too (Y/n). Lets make it a good one"

[annaphoenix1994]

Trying Again

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

Once the ceremony had concluded, Simon had helped eased Kiera into the passenger seat of his car, eager to get her home and enjoy the rest of the evening within the presence of each other before they departed the next morning for the first destination to mark their honeymoon - to which Simon still did not tell her what he had planned. With assurance that Jacob and Evie were taken care of and secured into Eva's vehicle, Simon waited until Eva had driven in front of them on the way back to the ranch. 

"That ring looks good on you, babe." Kiera giggled from the passenger seat, blushing as she physically witnessed Simon's pupils dilate to a thicker diameter once he held his gaze on her, his lips curling into a smirk. 

"Not used to wearing rings, but I'll gladly get used to this one," He chuckled, his right hand reaching for her left, bringing her knuckles up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there. "Didn't think that ring could look more perfect dressed on that pretty finger, love." 

"I still can't believe we just got married," She sighed. "We've waited so long for this and now that it's finally happened... I can't wrap my head around it." 

"Me either, but I'm glad it did," He smirked. "As much as I dread leaving our children behind for our honeymoon, I think it'll be a relief for you to have some time away." 

"It will, but I'm going to miss my babies so much," She frowned. "Mom said she's going to send us constant pictures and videos while we're gone." 

"I'm sure, love," He assured her. "I can't wait to see your reaction once you figure out where we're going." 

"Well, where are we going?"

"That's a surprise. But I will say I accidentally fucked up the flight..."

"What do you mean?" She arched her brow. 

"Well, our first flight was supposed to go towards the east coast, but I somehow scheduled it for Nevada..."

"You're confusing me, Simon."

He smirked, "Let's just say we'll be spending a couple of days in a certain town in southern Nevada first..."

He watched her jaw drop, "Babe, are we... Going to Las Vegas?" 

"Possibly," He smirked. "Just know that I can't afford to be losing my new wife in Sin City. I babysit Johnny enough." 

She giggled, "You can't babysit me if you can't find me..." 

He arched his brow and she giggled, "Trying to make my blood pressure rise already?" 

"Oh, I'm sure you already are getting a rise out of this evening. If you know what I mean..." 

"Don't start anything you can't finish, love." 

"Who said I didn't want it to finish?" 

She smirked as she watched his face flush before he moved to adjust himself behind the steering wheel, clearly desperately trying to hide his pending erection, his mind briefly short-circuiting as he had hoped they were nearly home. Sighing, he gripped the steering wheel tightly before reaching for her hand, hoping to distract himself from intimate thoughts until he were to get home. 

»»-------¤-------««

Without giving her any notice, Simon hastily swept Kiera off of her feet before he began to carry her towards the house, the train of her dress waving in the night air as Kiera giggled into his neck, placing short and teasing kisses along his hot and aroused skin. "All bloody mine," He grumbled. "You got that?" 

"Roger that, Lieutenant." 

He huffed in frustration, closing the door with his foot before rushing himself and his new bride into their bedroom, easily laying her on the bed and gently resting himself between her thighs, caging her between his arms and capturing her lips with his. "Simon." She moaned into his mouth, her core flexing in arousal.

"What is it, love?" 

"I can't believe this - us. We're finally married." 

"Good thought, yeah? How about we finally officiate this marriage?" 

She groaned at his words, running her hands through his neat hair only to ruin it, leaving the residue from his hair gel on her fingers. His hands had slowly began to run up her smooth legs, smirking against her lips when he realized she had been wearing a garter around her thigh after the pads of his fingers swept across it. "What's the order of this thing?"  

He knew. 

He knew what it was for and the tradition behind it, but he wanted to hear her say it as well as add his own twist to it.

"Oh, you know, typical bride attire," She giggled. "Tradition." 

"Is that right?" 

"Mhm. Don't they have that in Manchester?" 

He shrugged playfully, "Don't know. Never been married before. Might have to fill me in on this so-called tradition."

"I'm sure you can figure it out, babe." 

"Oh, so you're not going to tell me?"

"Well, we kinda broke the tradition a little bit..." 

"We've broken several, love." 

She giggled, "Well, you know how I tossed my bouquet during the reception and you refused to take my garter off from under my gown-"

"Because I'm selfish and didn't want anyone to see your legs? Yes." He replied proudly, the pads of his fingers tracing over the garter slowly. 

"You were supposed to take it off from under my gown and toss it to your groomsmen and whoever caught it was supposed to be getting married next-"

"Well," He scoffed, placing a kiss to her collarbone. "We agreed to make our own traditions. I think I know what I want to do with it." 

"Hm? What's that?" She hummed. 

"I think I'd want to rip this off of you with my bloody teeth and display you as my trophy," He didn't give her a chance to reply before he placed a kiss to her lips and lowered his body to where his head was under her gown, placing slow and delicate kisses from the inside of her knee and thigh until his lips fell onto the garter itself, gently grasping it with his teeth before he began to drag it from her thigh, smirking against her skin every time he heard a pretty whimper leave her lips. "And when I do that, nobody's eyes except my own get to lay on you." 

"I'm all yours, Simon." 

"I like hearing you say it." He murmured, proceeding to remove the garter with his teeth and slide it over his wrist before his mouth returned to her inner thighs, proceeding to move upwards under her gown before his lips landed on her sweet core, his hands resting above her gown to run his fingers along the lace fabric. All fucking mine. 

Her fingers were desperate to latch into his hair while her soft moans filled the quiet bedroom. She couldn't get enough of the image of him in his suit all for her. 

Simon's hands splayed across the outside of her thighs, holding them firmly against either side of his head while his tongue lapped through her folds, nearly making her jolt every time he crossed her clit with every slow and determined minute. 

Eventually, she had climaxed on his encouraging tongue, rewarding him for his efforts before he sat up on his knees, looking down at the overstimulated mess of his new bride, smirking at how flushed she already was. He sat back on his knees, admiring the way her dress bunched up at her waist and how her skin flushed, leaving red blotches of adrenaline dressing her chest and cheeks. Smirking, he moved to where he was standing on his feet, walking over to the nightstand to retrieve a condom from the drawer, setting it on top of the nightstand before he removed his dress shirt, tossing it to the side as Kiera moved to sit on her knees on the bed, her perfectly manicured nails curling around the belt of his trousers, her lips pressed against his muscled abdomen while her fingers slowly unbuckled his belt. 

She pumped his erection slowly with one hand, her thumb swiping the small bead of arousal that pooled at his aching head, swearing to herself that she could feel his pulse through his shaft. "On your back, babe." She whispered. 

"Dominant lass, yeah?" He smirked, looking down to admire the doe-like gloss in her eyes. 

"Don't make me ask again."

He couldn't help but smirk at her demand, sincerely loving when she'd get intimately aggressive with him, Kiera being the only person he'd consider being submissive for. He didn't know why, but he loved being bossed around by her - it unlocked a new excitement he never knew he had. "What happens if you do?" 

"Then I guess I'll just satisfy myself." She hummed. 

"Is that right?" He arched his brow, curling his index finger under her chin, forcing her head upward to look up at him. "Those toys of yours don't have the same affect, love." 

"Making yourself feel better, huh?" She giggled, knowing she was pushing his buttons. "On your back." 

"I don't much like being told what to do-"

"Oh, I know, Lieutenant," She hummed, placing a kiss to his chest. "But you're a long way from the barracks, babe. Need I remind you that I technically outranked you if you want to start using terms." 

He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and a tingle traveling through his body, although he still didn't budge. I want to see if she really could make me, but bloody hell, those eyes she's giving me makes me want to fall to my knees and do anything she asked...

"That's what I thought," She giggled after hearing no response from him. "On your back." 

He couldn't help but do as he was told - Kiera being the only person to be able to dominate him. If he were honest, he quite liked being submissive - having her on top of him to her mercy and using him as she pleased. 

He loved it. 

Especially in her wedding dress - the sight alone drove him wild. 

Her dress splayed over him as she straddled his hips, subtly rolling her own hips to grind against his erection. He couldn't help but grasp the fabric of her dress in his hands during his desperate attempt to grasp her hips, leaning his head back against the pillow when he felt himself succumb to her hot core. 

They groaned in unison as his hands firmly held her hips while she slowly slid down on his length, eventually able to fully sheath himself inside of her. 

In roughly three months, the couple had lain together once due to the unfortunate events of the miscarriage in July followed by her father's passing. 

And during that one time, he had begun to use a condom to prevent another pregnancy knowing she had wished to wean from birth control and that he didn't want her to go through another miscarriage. 

It was a decision made by him to use a condom for her sake, knowing the effect hurt her more than it did him.

He knew she had been mentally exhausted - the last thing he wanted for her was to feel like she had an obligation to please him sexually. 

After all, he could care less if she had told him she'd never want to have sex again, knowing that the miscarriage alone was enough to frighten her about the idea of ever getting pregnant again. 

"Fuck!" She hissed, briefly uncomfortable due to the sudden stretch, keeping herself still on him to let her body adjust to his size. 

"Are you alright, love?" 

"Yeah," She nodded, splaying her palms across his chest. "Been too long for us." She admitted, blush staining her cheeks. 

"I'll wait as long as you want me to." He assured her, his hands finally finding the skin of her hips under her dress, gently rubbing circles along her skin with his thumbs. 

Her hips rolled against him, Simon unable to restrict his hips naturally wanting to buck up into her, but he knew she had things in her control when he was under her, completely surrendering himself to her. 

Already overstimulated from his tongue, she had heard herself squelching against him between moans. It was addicting for the pair of them. "You feel so good, love," He admitted, his voice gruff and smooth. "You were bloody made for me." 

She hummed in agreement, leaning her head back to enjoy the sensation he was giving her with just his length alone - his touches and words nearly driving her over the edge every time she felt his skin on hers. 

Suddenly, his forearms hooked under her thighs, effortlessly picking her up off of his length and curling his arms to where her core was level with his face. She braced her hands on the headboard in front of her, tightening her abdomen to keep her full weight from landing on his head. "Simon, I-"

"Don't hold yourself," He warned, his hot breath fanning against her wet folds and making her shiver against him, gasping when she felt his arms tighten around her thighs and pulling her weight down onto his face. "Sit." 

"But I don't want to hurt-"

"-Sit," He said sternly. She was unable to see his threatening gaze by how her dress had spread over his head when he moved her, but she knew that look. "Like a bloody chair." 

"But what if I suffocate you-"

His arms tightened around her thighs and pulled her down onto him, the tip of his nose pressing firmly against her clit, giving her the perfect stimulation while his tongue began to work against her folds, eager to bring her to a second orgasm. He loved when he would bury himself inside of her, but something about pleasing her with his mouth drove him crazy. Like a drug, he would think, musing about how intoxicating her taste was to him. 

He rewarded her with a quickened pace of his tongue when he felt her relax, knowing that gravity was in her favor when she finally realized just how good it felt. And to Simon, the thought made him harder than what he already was - almost painful. 

But he couldn't let up anytime soon. 

She tasted too good. 

Her moans gradually grew louder and louder, her stomach tightening at the sensation of his skilled tongue, goosebumps erecting along her skin when she felt his hands leave her thighs and slide up her back, slowly and delicately unclasping each button that held her dress together, keeping her nude body from him. He knew that if he didn't get that divine dress off of her soon, he'd accidentally end up ruining it. 

Sensing that she was on the brink of her second orgasm, he couldn't help but smirk when he heard a desperate whine leave her lips, knowing it was a punishment for even saying that her toys could get her off faster than he could in a sorry attempt to get him to submit.

With the dress now draping from her shoulders and exposing her breasts, he curled his arms around her waist and gently guided her to lay on her back, placing a hot kiss to her vulva before he guided her to lift her hips to slide the dress from her body, leaving her to be completely nude under him. His hair was now a mess and his chin was glistening with her excitement. Licking his lips clean, he then moved to make a trail of kisses from her hip all the way to her sternum, shooting a quick glance to her before he gave attention to her breasts, expecting her to deny access to them as she was still breastfeeding. Unbeknownst to her, Simon knew that even caressing her nipples were more stimulating than before she was ever pregnant. 

Judging by her sudden moan after he did it, he assumed that she had finally realized.

Especially when she arched her back to press her breasts even closer to his mouth, begging for more than just his hands. "Eager, are we?" 

"You're just teasing me at this point." She giggled playfully. 

"It's what you get for teasing me with the thought of you playing with yourself earlier," He answered, sitting back on his calves to reach for the condom on the nightstand, pinching the corner of the wrapper between his teeth before she stopped him. 

"You won't need that, babe," She spoke, her foot coming up to rest on his hip. "I want to try again." 

"Are you sure?" 

She nodded, "Positive." 

He wanted to ask her what was going through her mind for her to compile her decision, but he didn't want her to think about the reason as to why he had begun wearing condoms in the first place since the miscarriage. "I know we haven't really talked about it prior to the wedding, but-"

"-I love having children with you," He assured her. "I want another one." 

She smiled, "You do? I thought two plus Baler was enough for you." 

"The lad is almost an adult and our two are now a year old. I can't lie to you: I loved seeing you waddle around like a penguin with your belly." 

She laughed as his hands ran up and down her smooth calves, slowly tracing his fingertips to her hot folds, excited at the primal thought of getting her pregnant again, except this time, they were actually trying.

"Best get to it then, babe." She smiled, opening her legs for him when she felt his body lower onto her, their lips locking as his hips lazily pumped against her, teasing her yet again before he snuck his free hand to guide himself into her, the sensation driving him over the edge with her immense warmth and tightness. 

They lay in sensual lust - his hips guiding himself slowly into her as he savored every thrust while she purposely squeezed her walls around him every time he withdrew his hips. His lips were pressed against her neck and jaw while her nails dug into his back, leaving small scratches behind only to encourage another hard thrust from him. "You're so deep," She groaned. 

"I can go deeper," He whispered into her neck.

"H-How?" She asked, surprised. 

He smirked against her jaw before slowly withdrawing from her, "Turn over," He directed, grasping the nearby pillow to place under her abdomen, arching her hips perfectly for the deep angle he was about to let her experience, giving him an unrelenting pace into her G-Spot once he began to thrust. "There you go. Press your thighs together and cross your ankles," He continued, now standing at the edge of the bed, pumping himself lazily as she did as she was told. "I can't lie and say I won't hold myself back from getting rough," He admitted shyly, his head now at her even tighter entrance. "You grip me even tighter like this." 

She began to reply before her mouth opened to a gasp, the hot stretch of his length entering her and pressing against her G-Spot once he fully sheathed himself. "Please get rough, Simon." 

He groaned at her plea, hoping that she knew just how rough he could get. Pressing his palm between her shoulder blades, he did as she requested. 

Relentless, powerful thrusts of his hips snapping into her at a set pace. Each thrust rubbing against her G-Spot, making her toes curl and her back shiver while the pillow under her head collected her loud moans. 

Skin-to-skin contact filled the room along with their moans of pleasure. "Harder." She begged. 

"Are you sure, love?" He whispered, keeping up his pace. "I don't want to hurt you-"

"Harder, Simon," She moaned. "I want you to." 

Bracing one arm next to her head and the other palm between her shoulder blades, his thrusts grew harder and harder, the headboard of the bed now colliding with the wall as the squelching from her core swallowing him drove him wild. He curled his hips downwards every time they snapped, jolting every time he felt the sponge-like flesh of her G-Spot against him. 

Several minutes later, he stilled to release his spend into her, pumping slowly until he too became overstimulated, only keeping up his pace to bring her to her second orgasm before he did. 

With deep breaths, he rewarded her with kisses along the column of her back, slowly withdrawing himself before he helped her move to a comfortable position, smirking at how her mascara pooled at the corners of her eyes before bringing his thumb up to wipe the marks away. 

[orphhiicc]

; kraven x fem! reader

summary ; you and sergei get into a fight but you should know how stubborn he is. (Mdni)

this fic contains ; cursing, toxic couples, mentions of cheating?, p-in-v, unprotected sex, rough sex, assault (sorta?), ofc fluff

Mine.

You walked down the alley way holding your arms together, shivering. You don’t remember exactly how you got there but you keep replaying the argument you and your boyfriend had an hour before.

At this point you couldn’t remember what he had done or what you had done to make you end up in this position but all you wanted in that moment was to get absolutely wasted.

Next thing you knew you were sitting at some bar ordering your fourth round. You sat there alone, visibly miserable when a group of guys approached you. “Hey pretty girl” one said sitting down right next to you. The alcohol caused your vision to blur as you tried to identify this man. “You’re not my boyfriend” you mumbled rolling your eyes and slumping back down into your chair. “Yeah but I could be” he whispered putting his hand on your thigh. You looked at him with disgust and got up. You made your way outside to catch some air when you heard someone behind you. “Who said I was done with you?” The man said walking towards you and grabbing your wrist to lead you to his car.

The alcohol had fully hit your system at this point, which instead of going with this man it caused your fight or flight to kick in. “Get the fuck off of me” you yelled yanking your wrist away, the man whipped around, fully coming at you and punching you right in the face. You were stunned at the sudden impact, suddenly you felt someone push you aside. It was your boyfriend.

Sergei took exactly two minutes to beat this man to a pulp when he turned around to face you and you felt the tears swell up in your eyes. “Sergei I-” you stuttered out as he grabbed you and threw you in his car.

The car ride was silent. You couldn’t tell if his anger resided to alcohol and your drunken state or the argument you had earlier or both. You sat on his bed, staring into the wall as you listened to the shower run. After what felt like forever you could hear him rustle around to get dressed and ready for bed. You jumped as he opened the door and walked towards you. You both hadn’t spoke since he came to your rescue but the sight of him in his boxers, hair wet and shirt off made your pussy ache. You sighed and got up to face him when he suddenly pushed you back down onto the bed. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” He said. You stared at him blankly, “How could you let another fucking man even get near you. Is that what you want? To be with someone else?” He said voice getting louder. “No” you muttered.

“You want to be fucked by someone else?” He spat at you, your thighs clenched together at the sight of him so angry and vile. He watched you squirm under him and felt his cock hardening. “I could just fuck you and be done with you” he muttered, lowering himself towards you. You nodded as he connected your lips, hungrily kissing you. He wasted no time ripping all your clothes off, he stood up and looked at the sight of you, exposed and desperate. “Прикоснись к себе” (touch yourself) he said starting to palm his clothed cock. You nodded and slowly started massaging your wet pussy.

You hung your head back, feeling him watching you immensely. Without warning he grabbed your thighs and flung them open and slammed into you. You cried out as he rutted into you almost like a wild animal. “You fucking slut” he said grabbing your jaw harshly and positioning it to face him, he loosened his grip and slapped you across the face. Causing you to let out a loud moan. He pulled out of you and laid down, dragging you on top of him. He stared at you hard, taking in your furrowed eyebrows, closed eyes and puffy lips that still had blood on them from the guy at the bar. His grip on your hips tightened as you rode him, “come baby” he said softly, you nodded and he felt your body twitch under him as you came undone. Your body became limp and you fell into him, placing your face into the crook of his neck. He thrusted into you harshly until he finished, coming inside of you. “Sergei I’m really so sorry” you pleaded, he could feel you starting to cry.

He turned you over and covered you in the sheets. He took his hand and wiped away your stray tears, moving his hand over to your bloody lip and wiping it away. “Don’t be sorry my love” he said kissing your temple.

“If anything I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you walk out and end up in that position.” He said staring at you.

You nodded and curled up into him.

“Я люблю тебя” (I love you) he murmured tucking your hair behind your ears.

[moeblob]

I am really tired of a situation rn.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Charlie Tangaroa and the God of War

book 2 in a middle grade series about a boy whose father is a Ponaturi (sea-goblin)

charlie and his brother are back living their normal lives - until a visiting scientist is stabbed in a local campground, right before a meeting between iwi and the government over local resources

they try to investigate and quickly learn that Whiro, atua of chaos is involved, sowing discord between various groups, and they have to figure out a way to solve things before anyone else gets hurt

cover & illustrations by yours truly!

[cozylittleartblog]

Hey-yo '<')/ Your art-style is so lovely and, for lack of a better word, cozy. Were there any inspirations on your art-style?

thank you! my holy trinity of art style influences is rebecca sugar, the tf2 comics, and derrick j wyatt, among a lot of other things, like older cartoons and anime. i learned some about gestures and anatomy from my friend @kfrances too, her art is fantastic. i have no idea where exactly i picked up my love of textures from though, i've always liked the look of digital art that looks very handmade and cozy and traditional, and i like the look of old vhs and film. it's very nostalgic.

[heritableseance]

guys i have to be honest. im the typa guy that likes to roam around. im never in one place. i roam from town to town.

[chryblossomjjk]

i thought the cat distribution system finally found me ):

[chitsangenthusiast]

the drive (lol) to write bc of the bikeriders but the unpleasant awareness my fingers don't remember how to!!!!!

[derfisch]

"source not concretely known" lmao

[loveanddeepdick]

ᯓ★ babydaddy!toji would never admit that he got jealous when you were around guys your age. he’d never get insecure, no, but he felt a deep pang of jealously in his chest. like he prayed that he had been born later so he could be more similar to you. your relationship with him was complicated. you were dating on and off but finally just settled as friends with benefits (who took care of a ridiculously cute baby together).

your parents often asked you why you dated a guy who was less than a decade away from being your father. your friends did the same too, not seeing the appeal in being with a “broke old man”. you never understood why toji just scoffed and looked away. it was out of character since he’d usually just cuss people out.

babydaddy!toji who let his jealousy show a little too much when you ran into an old high school friend of yours while you were out shopping. toji had to piss and you were waiting outside when he came up to you. shit, you didn’t even recognize him at first and the conversation was merely small talk but when toji came out, he had his arm around your waist, his hands coming down a little too low.

“this is your uh.. boyfriend, yeah?”, you friend asked, his eyes immediately going to the hand on your waist. most people just assumed you were single again.

“you could say that..”, you sheepishly replied, trying to swat toji’s hand away.

“tsk why’re you acting like i didn’t just dick you down and you didn’t carry my baby, ma? course you’re mine”, toji scoffed, looking away.

your eyes dart from your friend’s to his and it finally clicked. he was jealous. with a small smile, you excused yourself and tugged on the hem of toji’s shirt, signaling him to walk out to his car. the walk there was filled with short protests from him and silence from you. of course, he didn’t mean it, he loved this kind of attention from you. as you got to his car you rummaged through his pants pocket to grab his keys—not being shy to graze his dick—and unlocked the car.

babydaddy!toji who’d never admit he was jealous, even when you two were making out in the middle of a mall parking lot with your hand on his crotch.

“admit it, you still—ah, you still love me and you were jealous”

“course i fuckin love you—fuck yeah,keep your hand there—we’re long over, ma. didn’t you say we were just friends with benefits?”

“you’re avoiding the question, toji”

he had his hands all over you at this point, tugging at your shirt but you pulled away and furrowed your eyebrows.

“admit that you were jealous, old perv”

“fuck—fine. i was jealous. i hate seeing you with men younger than me. makes me feel old. happy now, doll?”, he leaned in again, grabbing your face as you kissed back with a smirk.

“yeah, i’m elated”, you grinned, trailing your hand up to play with his dark happy trail and dipping it in his sweatpants.

“don’t be a fuckin brat, ma. m’gonna give you a second snotty little shit if you keep this up”, toji growled, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone

“yeah?“, you smirked, tangling your fingers in his hair as you guided him down, “keep that promise and maybe we’ll get married”

babydaddy!toji who was definitely going to take you in the backseat for hours. fuck driving home.

babydaddy!toji who nearly died at the spot from the news of you being pregnant not with just one baby, but twins. you ended the year with a ring and a freshly painted nursery.

[classyrbf]

MINE! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

thinking of getting into an argument with husband!toji and you guys have been going back and forth at each other for who knows how long now. You completely forgot what you two are even arguing about, but being the stubborn person you are, you needed to get the last word in. Toji was just the same, so now here you were. “Toji, I’m getting real sick of your shit.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve been hearing that for the past five years now,” he scoffs. “I’m being so serious, Fushiguro. Take your shit and leave.” And as soon as those words come out your mouth, he walks right over to you without hesitation and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. “What are you doing?!” You wiggle in his grip. He’s quick to grab his car keys off the counter before saying, “you told me to take what’s mine so I did.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as twirls the car keys around his finger. Though you two always bicker with each other like any other couple, you know you could never stay mad at him. “Fine,” you huff. “Let’s at least pick up some Taco Bell while we’re out,” you say, still slumped over his shoulder. “That’s my girl,” he laughs, giving your ass a quick smack as he walks to the car.

a/n: something quick while I work on this delayed gojo kinktober fic (apologies😪)