#not as polished as it could be but tbh i like when it looks like this! it's done to me!!

[fourteentheart]

My half of a trade with @illumancer ! *fires these two with the dancing beam* I cannot resist 💃🔥

I used this as an opportunity to experiment with laying down colors over a cleaned up sketch! It's super fun to continually merge layers and just paint on the same layer. No going back and no eraser tool lol

[faaun]

the way that diff languages sound r so fascinating they're all different and all so vivid

[crescentfool]

having the hc that minato is ace is incredibly funny sometimes when you think about how ryoji is oh so very bi because it's like. "ah. death stole my ability to be attracted to people," in the same way that ryoji stole minato's eye color and energy level. like wow, thanks ryoji, you just keep finding things to steal from minato!

[coridallasmultipass]

OMG IT WORKS, I WAS ABLE TO REPLACE THE STRAP WITH A SWATCH STRAP!!!!

Guys, it's been SO LONG since my cheap-ass generic/unbranded watch's strap started breaking, and I had to take off my favourite watch a WHILE ago (you can see the old strap in the bag is completely broken on both sides now, it just crumbled when I picked up my watch to measure it).

I had no clue how to shop for a replacement or which point to disassemble the old strap at! Turns out, it's Swatch compatible! So I went ahead and ordered the name brand Swatch strap for this size, and IT FITS. Well, the strap fits. The Swatch metal posts that hold the strap to the watch body were too thick by a hair and wouldn't slide in the metal watch body. Thankfully, the old posts in my watch were still good to use, since they were original to the watch.

I'm SO glad I can keep using my 2019 impulse purchase. I've already replaced the battery in it once, and now knowing how to replace a watch strap has been a really good skill to add to that. I hate throwing shit out when it stops working, I'd rather repair it, especially because this is a really cool and comfortable watch to me. Yeah it's hashtag retrowave aes, but it also uses a tally system with the LEDs for telling the time/date (as opposed to analog/digital), which is really cool and not something you see often. Also, with the new strap being leather - I know how to care for leather, and it will definitely last longer than the previous plastic that only lasted for a couple years of wear.

I'm so fucking excited.

[lenny-link]

TF2 x SU au fusions!

oof this took too long but i finally made it !

I kept @gracefireheart Andalusite (HeavyMedic) and @cariocay ‘s Turquoise (EngieSpy) (that i just realized their account got deactivated just a few days ago im sad now) fusion designs because i just found them perfect and whenever i wanted to try making my own designs i always ended up with making something similar to theirs since i was very influenced so i just kept them! They’re so awesome plz check the original artists!

my designs :3 :

About the fusions:

I tried to choose a theme for every fusion that suits the characters like Spessartite (DemoSolly) is a warrior i put Demo’s sword with Soldier’s shield thing well he doesn’t specifically have a shield but yknow the helmet thing i thought that could work.

He’s very powerful, strong and jump into action without a second thought, while he possesses immense strength and a love for loud and chaotic things, his battle prowess is a double-edged sword since his attacks lack precision. however, this unpredictability often leaves his enemies confused and scrambling to defend. he fights more efficiently when drunk lol

Lepidolite (MedicSpy) is a plague doctor, he is very inspired by Hannibal Lecter (nbc Hannibal lol shout out to that one Anon who recommended it for me to watch it lol) at first i wanted to give him a bistouri as a weapon, since it would suit Medic’s saw with Spy’s small knife, but then i felt the fusion was leaning too much towards Medic than Spy, so i put a cane instead to give that old idk gentleman look :P

He is polished and sophisticated, with a hint of underlying sadism and very precise in his movements, he meticulously analyzes his opponents, exploiting weaknesses with surgical precision before jumping into action and strike right where it hurts the most, the cane appears to be a simple walking stick, but inside is a hollowed core that had a retractable, poison-tipped blade, and his poison isn't fast-acting he enjoys toying with his victims, watching as the venom slowly takes hold, fueling his twisted sense of amusement. they are far from being the strongest fusion but they rely a lot on making their opponent weaker by their ability to attack precise hits as well as poisoning them!

Carnelian (SniperScout) his design was inspired by a equestrian outfit (he was the hardest to design tbh bc i wanted his design to be specifically different from the others since Scout is half human so i wanted this "human" aspect to show in the fusion).

He is a walking paradox, he's got Sniper's calm confidence with Scout's hyperactive energy, he loves a good plan but his execution is often fueled by pure adrenaline, he can zip across the battlefield with incredible speed, dodging attacks and flanking enemies. good at mid range and long range attacks but weak at close range, has internalized monologues with himself a lot, he appears calm on the surface however, his foot constantly taps, he fidgets with his slingshot, he cannot stays in place for too long. enjoys taking challenges.

Rubellite (DemoPyro) is a robot with a 50’s cartoon style but with like a creepy vibe to it, their voice sounds like a broken radio perpetually stuck on a laugh track, is both infectious and unsettling.

They just as powerful as Spessartite but just a bit more agile and lean more on the defense style than offense, their body stretches in a cartoony way and battles become a twisted playground for them, a child's game where they hop and blow things up everywhere. they’re very joyful and loves to have fun while making chaos, they usually make jokes but no one understands their muffled voice so they often laugh all by themselves lol the weapon actually expands where the ball and the shaft of the mace connects there’s a chaine (i didnt draw it cuz there was already too much going on in the drawing lol) which helps them reach target from close to mid range easily, they twist and turn their body in very flexible ways before swatting their weapon at their target.

♠︎ If you want to suggest a pair for the next fusion please just comment here DO NOT send it in my ask box plz !!

And if you want to make your own fusion designs/fanart go ahead ! id love to see other people’s interpretations could be ! just don’t forget to tag me and add the tag ( tf2 x su au) :D

hope you enjoy !

+ early designs :

[elikajinnie]

Tokyo Drift - N.R

P: Racer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Teasing, Possessive Behaviour, Fluff

Synopsis: In the heart of the underground racing scene, you are a passionate starter, known for your ability to ignite excitement before each race. When you first meet Nishimura Ni-ki, a legendary driver, you are initially intimidated by him. However during the races you capture his attention.

a/n: knowing you have the attention of someone like Ni-ki is exciting tbh.. ANYWAYS i am a HUGE lover of the fast & furious franchise so this was quite overdue!! (inspired by this edit : TikTok - Make Your Day)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"I don't get why I have to be there for every race you do," you said, glancing over at your friend, who was gripping the steering wheel with one hand, the other casually shifting gears.

"Because you're the starter," he replied, his tone like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"There are other starters," you shot back. "I'm not the only one."

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he asked, "Do you have anything better to do than attend these races?"

You opened your mouth, ready with a rebuttal, but nothing came. After a beat, you closed your mouth and sank back into the seat.

"Yeah, exactly," he said, smug. "Plus, it's good for you to get out and meet new people."

The music from the radio blared a little louder as he cranked up the volume. You sighed, fiddling with the edge of your shirt.

"And it gives you more insight for the big race next month," he added, his eyes focused on the road ahead as the car sped past traffic.

"But that's weeks away," you mumbled under your breath, shifting your gaze out the window, watching the blur of lights and cars fly by.

"You know you’ll thank me later," he said, his voice laced with confidence as he pushed the car to go even faster.

As your friend parked the car, the tires crunching on the gravel beneath, you stepped out and took in the scene. Despite the late hour, the area was alive, glowing under huge industrial lights that bathed the lot in an artificial brightness. Cars were everywhere, a chaotic lineup of souped-up rides with booming music, others showing off their horsepower, engines roaring as they drifted in tight circles.

"Did you want to be a starter today?" your friend asked, leaning casually against the roof of his car.

You shrugged. "Sure," you replied, though your energy didn’t quite match the excitement of the crowd.

Walking away, you strolled past rows of cars, admiring their sleek designs and custom paint jobs, the polished metal gleaming under the lights. You ignored the catcalls from a group of guys leaning against a low-rider, keeping your focus ahead. Tonight, you weren’t dressed to impress—just something simple, thrown on after your friend dragged you out of the house. But your bandana was tied around your wrist, the familiar black-and-white checkered pattern standing out. It was your signature, the same one you used to signal the start of every race.

The energy around you was electric, the thrum of engines mixing with the bass-heavy beats from the cars parked nearby. You wound your way through the crowd, feeling a strange mix of familiarity and detachment. You weren’t really in the mood to be here, but this scene always had a way of pulling you in.

After a bit of wandering, you spotted some familiar faces—people you knew from past races, ones who recognized you right away. They greeted you with nods and half-smiles, pulling you into their small circle.

After hanging around for a bit, chatting with familiar faces, you eventually found yourself drifting toward the starting line. As the races kicked off, your friend waved you over, a sly grin on his face. "Looks like they need a starter," he said, tossing a glance toward the eager crowd of racers lining up. You could already feel the pull, the electricity in the air calling to you.

With a nod, you stepped forward, positioning yourself between two cars. The engines growled, their headlights casting long shadows across the pavement, illuminating your figure as you stood in the middle. Both drivers stared ahead, hands gripping the wheels, laser-focused on the moment. And then there was you—at the center of it all. The one who would signal the start.

You raised your bandana high, feeling the fabric tight around your wrist. The engines revved in response, their deep rumbling vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. All eyes were on you now. The weight of the anticipation, the intensity in the air—it made your pulse quicken.

With a swift motion, you dropped your hand, and like a spark igniting gasoline, the cars exploded forward, tires screeching and smoke billowing up behind them. The sound of engines roaring filled your ears as they sped past, kicking up dust and gravel in their wake. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, the rush of adrenaline coursing through you as you watched them disappear into the distance.

The thrill was undeniable. That moment when everything paused, when the world held its breath before you dropped the flag—it was exhilarating, addictive even.

Race after race, you found yourself sinking into the rhythm of it. Standing between two roaring machines, feeling the raw power they held, and knowing you controlled the moment they unleashed it. The vibrations from the engines, the cheers from the crowd, the smell of burning rubber—it all swirled around you, making you forget about the lazy mood you'd been in earlier.

After another race, you dusted your hands off, feeling the faint tremble of excitement still lingering in your fingers. You were enjoying yourself now, more than you’d expected. This was your element—the rush, the control, the fleeting moments where everything slowed before it erupted into chaos.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You stood with a group of women, chatting casually and enjoying the scene, when a familiar lime-green Mazda rolled up to the line. The car was loud and flashy, just like its driver. You rolled your eyes the moment you saw Haruto step out, all swagger and energy, hyping the crowd as if they hadn’t seen him race a hundred times before. He soaked in the attention, pointing fingers at people he knew, already talking trash with the other drivers.

“Here we go…” you muttered under your breath, more annoyed than amused. Haruto was good—everyone knew that—but his ego was twice the size of his talent.

Just as you were about to turn away, a sleek silver Mitsubishi pulled up to the starting line next. It immediately caught your attention. You whistled low under your breath, admiring the car’s perfect blend of black and white racing stripes that seemed to melt into the silver body like it was designed for this very moment.

“No way…” you heard Ryujin, one of your friends, murmur next to you, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

You turned your head to her, eyebrows raised. “What?”

She didn’t take her eyes off the car as she spoke. “He’s racing against Nishimura.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the name. “Wait… Nishimura?” You whipped your head back to the Mitsubishi, squinting to get a better look at the driver behind the tinted windows.

Everyone in the racing world knew who Nishimura was. His rise was meteoric. A few years ago, he’d been a no-name rookie, just another driver trying to make his mark. But that quickly changed. He became a legend on the underground circuit, with a reputation for being nearly unbeatable. But the man himself? You had never seen him in person. You'd only heard the stories—how he drove like he was born for the track, a natural who didn’t play by anyone’s rules.

Now, standing there, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of curiosity and awe. The Mitsubishi was sleek, powerful, but that wasn’t what had your attention. It was the knowledge that the man behind the wheel was one of the best to ever do it, and tonight, you’d finally get to see him race.

The crowd around you buzzed with energy, whispering Nishimura’s name like it carried some kind of magic. You felt the tension rising, a sense that something bigger than the usual street race was about to happen.

You glanced at Ryujin. “This is going to be over quick, isn’t it?”

She nodded, her eyes glued to the track. “You have no idea.”

As Haruto climbed back into his car, showboating as always, you suddenly felt hands on your back as Karina playfully shoved you forward. "Go on!" she giggled, clearly enjoying herself.

You shot her a wide-eyed look of disbelief. "Don’t push!" you huffed, but your feet had already carried you forward, right into the middle of the two revving cars. The roar of the engines surrounded you, vibrating through the air and into your bones. Standing there, between Haruto’s lime-green Mazda and the sleek Mitsubishi, you felt a surge of energy.

With a stern look, you raised your arms to get their attention. "Now I want a clean race! From both of you," you shouted, pointing between them. You narrowed your eyes specifically at Haruto, who was known to pull sneaky tricks when he got desperate. "No tricks, or jukes."

Haruto revved his engine in response, flashing his usual cocky grin, though his eyes darted toward the Mitsubishi, and for the first time, you noticed a hint of stiffness in his posture. He knew this wasn’t going to be an easy win.

"Ready?" you asked, locking eyes with him. He revved up again, the Mazda growling under the pressure, but his attention was split, clearly sizing up the competition.

Then you turned toward the Mitsubishi. "Ready?" you called, and the car’s engine roared to life, a smooth, confident sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t see through the dark windows, but you felt something different in the air—a tension you couldn’t quite place.

With a smirk, you raised your bandana high. "Go!" you shouted, waving it down. Both cars shot off the line like bullets, the roar of their engines drowning out the cheers from the crowd as they sped past you. Dust kicked up in their wake, but you stood your ground, watching as they tore through the track, navigating the turns with precision and speed.

As you turned to walk back to your spot, you didn’t know the effect you’d had.

Inside the Mitsubishi, Nishimura had almost missed his cue. The moment you’d stepped out onto the track, his focus had shifted completely. The fierce concentration he was known for had wavered. For a split second, he’d forgotten where he was, what he was doing, and what was at stake. All he could see was you, standing between the two cars, commanding the moment with confidence and authority. It was enough to throw him off—a rarity for someone like him.

It wasn’t until he saw you pointing directly at him that he snapped out of it, realizing he hadn’t revved his engine. He quickly corrected himself, the roar of the car snapping back into focus as he gunned the accelerator and sped off.

But even as he tore through the turns, effortlessly drifting and leaving Haruto in the dust, his mind kept slipping back to you. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing there,completely unbothered by the chaos around you.

By the time the race was nearing its end, Nishimura was far ahead, his car slicing through the night with ease. Haruto didn’t stand a chance, but the victory was almost secondary. Nishimura’s pulse raced with a different kind of adrenaline, one that had nothing to do with the thrill of the race.

His car roared as it crossed the finish line, its sleek frame gliding effortlessly under the neon lights. The crowd erupted into cheers, but his mind wasn’t on the race. As he pulled his car to a stop and cut the engine, the world seemed to quiet down, everything slowing for just a moment.

He exhaled, unfastened his seatbelt, and pushed open the door. Stepping out of the car, his lean frame emerged, his hair slightly tousled from the speed and wind. The crowd surged toward him, hyping up his victory, chanting his name, but Nishimura’s focus was elsewhere.

His eyes scanned the crowd, searching. It wasn’t the win that made his pulse race—it was you.

When his gaze landed on you, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you. His eyes held yours, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place, but it made your heart race.

Just as you were about to process the moment, the spell was broken by a familiar voice. "You ready to go home?" Your friend appeared beside you, jingling his keys with a grin. You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, and turned to face him.

You blinked, shaking off the lingering intensity of Nishimura's stare, "Yeah," you nodded softly, a bit dazed, before following him through the crowd. As you walked away, you couldn’t resist glancing back toward where Nishimura had been standing, but to your surprise, he was gone. Just like that.

Huh... where did he go? you thought, scanning the crowd for a sign of him, but he had seemingly vanished without a trace. A strange feeling settled in your chest—curiosity mixed with something else. You shook it off and followed your friend through the throng of people, the night air cooling as the adrenaline from the race began to fade.

When you reached your friend’s car, you leaned against the door and raised an eyebrow. "Did you even race Lucas?"

He laughed, unlocking the car and shaking his head. "Nah, didn’t bother. But I had fun." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, and you groaned, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Ugh, I did not wanna know that," you said, scrunching up your nose in mock disgust as you slid into the passenger seat.

He chuckled and turned on the engine, the car rumbling to life as he drove off into the quiet night. The ride home was comfortable, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows through the windows.

When your friend finally pulled up in front of your house, you exchanged a quick goodbye. He waved as you got out, and you offered a small smile in return, still distracted. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, the events of the night catching up to you. A quick shower helped wash away the lingering dust and grime from the track, but it did little to clear your mind.

Finally, you collapsed into bed, your body sinking into the mattress as exhaustion pulled at you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You had been going to more races lately, every weekend like clockwork. The underground scene was alive and buzzing, with each race becoming more intense than the last. But there was one thing you noticed—a pattern that had begun to emerge. Every time you were the starter, Nishimura was there, lined up at the start with his sleek Mitsubishi, ready to race.

At first, you chalked it up to coincidence. But as the weeks passed, it became clear that it wasn’t. No matter where the races were hosted, no matter how different the crowd, Nishimura would be there. And without fail, he’d win. His driving was as smooth and precise as ever, but something about the way his eyes would linger on you just before he sped off—it left you with a strange fluttering feeling you couldn't shake.

You were about to head out when suddenly, the unmistakable wail of sirens cut through the night. In an instant, the entire atmosphere shifted. Chaos erupted as people scrambled to their cars, trying to get out before the cops could close in.

Panic surged through you as you scanned the crowd, looking for any of your friends, but the mess of people made it impossible. Cars were speeding off in every direction, headlights blurring together, and the sound of screeching tires filled the air. Your heart raced, and just as you started to feel the panic rise, a familiar sleek silver car slid to a stop beside you. The window rolled down, and there he was.

"Get in!" Nishimura shouted, his voice urgent but calm.

You didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, you jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you. Before you could even get settled, Nishimura hit the gas, and the car shot forward, weaving effortlessly between the other vehicles that were fleeing the scene. You gripped the handlebar above the door, holding on as the car sped through the narrow streets, sliding past cop cars with a precision that left you breathless.

The speedometer arrow kept climbing, the numbers blurring as the engine roared beneath you. You glanced at Nishimura, his hands steady on the wheel, his expression focused yet completely at ease. He was in his element, and you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he handled the car, as if it was an extension of him.

After a few intense minutes, the sirens grew distant, and it became clear that the cops had lost track of you. Nishimura slowed down, the adrenaline still buzzing between the two of you, but the immediate danger had passed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relaxing your grip on the handlebar.

Taking a moment to steady yourself, your attention drifted to the interior of the car. Everything was sleek, black, and incredibly well-maintained. The leather seats were soft beneath you, and a soft red glow emanated from under your feet, casting a warm, almost intimate light. You couldn’t help but run your fingers over the dash, admiring the attention to detail.

"You like it?" Nishimura’s voice broke the silence, casual yet with a hint of curiosity.

"I do," you said, glancing over at him. He was still looking at the road, but there was something about the way he asked that told you he was aware of more than just the street ahead of him. His attention was on you, even if his eyes weren’t.

"It fits the owner," you added with a small smile.

He let out a quiet laugh, a sound that was rare but warm. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little softer now, as if the tension from earlier had melted away.

"You don’t usually hang around after races," you said, turning your attention back to him.

He glanced at you briefly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I guess tonight was different."

You tilted your head slightly, curious. "Different how?"

His smile deepened, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted gears smoothly, the car responding instantly to his touch. "I think you know," he finally said, his tone leaving little doubt that his reason for sticking around had something to do with you.

That fluttering feeling in your chest returned, but this time, it wasn’t from the rush of the race or the chase—it was from him.

As the car cruised smoothly through the quiet streets, the earlier intensity of the night had faded into a calm, almost comfortable atmosphere between you and Nishimura. You found yourself feeling surprisingly at ease around him, despite the fact that, up until now, your interactions had been mostly limited to stolen glances and brief conversations.

"You know," he said, glancing over at you as you watched the city pass by through the window, "you don’t have to keep calling me Nishimura."

You blinked and turned to face him. "Oh, right. Is that too formal or something?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "A bit. My friends call me Ni-ki."

"Ni-ki?" you repeated, testing the name on your lips.

"Yeah. I’d rather you call me that." His voice was casual, but there was something in the way he said it that felt personal, like he was inviting you into a closer circle.

"Alright, Ni-ki it is," you said, leaning back in your seat as you relaxed. "So, what do people usually call you if they’re not your friends?"

He smirked, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Depends. Usually something like ‘dangerous,’ or ‘the guy you don’t want to race .’" He glanced at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "But I’d like to think I’m pretty easygoing."

"Right," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You seem so easygoing with the way you handle a car at 100 miles per hour."

He laughed at that, the sound low and genuine, and for a moment, it felt like you were just two people hanging out—nothing more, nothing less. The conversation drifted from racing to random topics, a natural flow of words that felt effortless. He told you about the first time he ever drove a car, how he’d been obsessed with it ever since, and you shared a few stories of your own, mostly about how you had gotten into starting races.

At some point, you noticed the city lights getting closer and realized you were nearing your neighborhood. Ni-ki glanced at you, sensing it was time to ask the inevitable question.

"Where do you want me to drop you off?"

You gave him your address, and he nodded, making a smooth turn onto a quieter street as the roar of the engine softened. The car slowed to a stop outside your building, the night air still and quiet now that the chaos had long since passed. For a brief moment, neither of you said anything.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally said, unbuckling your seatbelt but not quite ready to leave just yet.

"No problem," he replied, his voice softer now, more personal in the quiet space between you.

You lingered for a second, unsure of what to say. Something about the night felt different—like it had marked the beginning of something, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Ni-ki seemed to sense it too, the way he looked at you, his eyes lingering just a little longer.

"Take care," you said, finally breaking the silence.

"You too," he replied, his gaze never wavering. "See you around?"

"Yeah," you nodded, feeling a strange sense of anticipation that you couldn’t explain. "Definitely."

With one last glance, you stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you. As you walked toward your building, you couldn’t resist turning back for a quick look. Ni-ki was still there, watching you, and when your eyes met again, he flashed you a small, knowing smile before revving the engine.

Without another word, he sped off, the silver car disappearing into the night with a smooth, powerful roar.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The past month had been a whirlwind. Your schedule had spiraled into chaos, with personal commitments swallowing up all your free time. You hadn’t even thought about the races, let alone attended one. But finally, a weekend had opened up, and you felt a rush of excitement at the thought of getting back to the underground scene.

Your friend picked you up, their car bumping with bass as they pulled up to your place. You jumped in, the familiar thrill of anticipation bubbling up inside you. The ride was filled with chatter about the races you’d missed, and as you drove closer to the city, you could feel the energy in the air building.

When you arrived at the race area, it was alive with activity, the night sky illuminated by the glow of headlights and streetlights. Cars were parked everywhere, their owners mingling and showcasing their machines. The sound of engines revving and laughter filled the air, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

As you wandered through the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds, you spotted Haruto leaning against a sleek, newly polished car. When he caught your eye, he grinned and pushed off the vehicle to approach you.

"How do you like the new car?" he called out as he got closer, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

You stopped, admiring the vehicle as he gestured toward it. "When did you get this one?" you asked, genuinely curious about the flashy machine that had a glossy finish reflecting the neon lights around it.

"Got it last week," he replied proudly, running a hand over the hood. "Pretty ain’t she?"

"She?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing him. "You gendered it?"

He shrugged, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "What? It just feels right. She’s got curves, you know?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. "Sure, whatever you say, Romeo."

He laughed, shaking his head as you turned to walk away. "You wait until you see her in action! I’ll show you what she’s made of."

You waved him off, your eyes wandering as you continued to explore the scene. The adrenaline was intoxicating, the atmosphere buzzing with energy. You admired the different cars, from flashy sports models to classic muscle machines.

As you continued to roam the crowd, you felt the excitement in the air, but it was abruptly interrupted by a guy who stepped in front of you. He had an easy smile, but there was something off about the way he was looking at you.

"Hey there! What’s your name?" he asked, leaning slightly closer.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge his intentions. "Not interested," you replied coolly, attempting to sidestep him.

He moved to block your path again, undeterred. "Come on, just a name. How about a number then? We could grab a drink later."

You shook your head firmly. "No thanks, I'm not interested."

His expression shifted, irritation creeping into his smile. "You sure? I could show you a good time," he said, stepping a little too close for comfort.

A sense of unease washed over you as his demeanor changed. "Back off," you warned, crossing your arms. But he didn’t take the hint; instead, he leaned in even closer, trying to assert his presence.

Just then, you felt a familiar presence behind you. A voice cut through the tension, deep and commanding. "She said no. You should listen."

Nishimura appeared, sliding a hand around your waist possessively. The gesture was both comforting and electrifying, and you could feel the shift in the atmosphere. The guy's expression turned from annoyance to fear as he realized who he was dealing with.

The guy hesitated for a moment, looking between the two of you, then backed off, hands raised in defeat. "Whatever, man. She’s not worth it anyway," he muttered before disappearing into the crowd.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning to Ni-ki. "Thanks, but I had it under control," you said, attempting to downplay the situation.

He raised an eyebrow, concern etched across his face. "Didn’t look like it. I hate seeing people act like that."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the intensity of his gaze made you pause. There was something in the way he looked at you that made your heart race.

"I missed you," he said suddenly, his voice dropping to a softer tone. It was as if the words slipped out without him even realizing it.

The admission hung in the air between you, leaving you speechless. You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. You’d been excited to see him again, but hearing him say that made something inside you flutter.

"You… missed me?" you finally managed to stammer, your cheeks flushing slightly.

He looked a little sheepish, his usual confidence momentarily faltering. "Yeah, I mean���well, it’s been a month since I last saw you. Of course, I did," he replied, his tone shifting back to its usual nonchalance, but you could tell he was trying to cover up the slip.

"Right," you said, your mind racing. There was an undeniable connection sparking between you, and the thought of it made your heart race even faster.

The rest of the night unfolded in a whirlwind of adrenaline and excitement as you found yourself gravitating closer to Ni-ki. His presence felt like a shield, and you relished every moment spent by his side. Every time someone glanced your way with interest or a hint of aggression, you could feel his posture stiffen beside you, a silent warning in his gaze that made you feel protected.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

One evening, as you both leaned against his car, the night air buzzing with anticipation for the upcoming races, he turned to you, his expression serious. “I have something to tell you,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with excitement.

You tilted your head, intrigued. “What is it?”

“I got scouted,” he announced, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “They want me to race for them in Japan.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a rush of joy surging through you. “That’s amazing, Ni-ki! You deserve it! This is such a huge opportunity!” You couldn’t help but feel proud of him, your excitement bubbling over.

“Thanks! I’m really excited,” he said, his smile widening. Then, his expression shifted, and he looked at you earnestly. “And I want you to come with me.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, feeling a flutter of nerves and anticipation at the same time.

“I want you to be my starter full-time for all my races,” he clarified, his gaze intense as it locked onto yours. “I can’t imagine doing this without you by my side. You’ve been a huge part of my journey so far, and I want you to continue with me.”

Your heart raced at the thought, excitement and disbelief flooding your mind. “You really want me to come with you?”

“Absolutely. You know how much racing means to me. I need someone I trust out there, and that’s you,” he said, sincerity shining in his eyes.

“I’d love to, Ni-ki!”

His face broke into a wide grin, the kind that lit up his entire demeanor. “Really? You’re on board?”

“I’m absolutely on board! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over.

He stepped closer, his arms opening wide, and without hesitation, you jumped into his embrace.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” he said into your hair, his voice slightly muffled but filled with excitement. You felt his joy resonate through you, and it made your heart swell even more.

“I know! It’s unreal!” You pulled back slightly, your hands resting on his shoulders as you looked up into his eyes, both of you sharing that moment of exhilaration.

Ni-ki chuckled softly, still holding you close. “This is going to be amazing.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “We’re going to crush it together, right? You’ll be my lucky charm out there.”

You laughed, feeling a rush of determination at his words. “Absolutely.”

He grinned, his confidence infectious. “And I’ll make sure we leave them in the dust.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

When you arrived at Ni-ki’s place, you parked your car, and took a moment to admire the neighborhood. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over everything.

Walking toward the open garage door, your gaze drifted to his sleek car sitting in the center, the hood propped open and revealing the beautifully engineered engine underneath. It was like a masterpiece of machinery, glinting under the fluorescent lights.

“Ni-ki?” you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the spacious garage.

Suddenly, Ni-ki rolled out from underneath another car nearby, his face lighting up with a bright smile. “There you are!” he exclaimed, a hint of surprise and delight in his tone. He stood up, wiping his hands with a rag he pulled from his belt, the fabric stained with oil and grease.

You couldn’t help but widen your eyes, taking in the sight of him. He was wearing a pair of dirty overalls over a white tank top, which was now marred with grease and smudges. The way his muscles flexed as he worked on the cars made it hard to focus on anything else. “You work on the cars?” you asked, trying to divert your attention from how good he looked in that moment.

“Yeah, I like to tinker here and there,” he replied casually, picking up a tool from a nearby bench before rolling back under the car. “It’s kind of become a hobby!”

You hummed thoughtfully, walking around the car to get a better view of his progress. The vehicle was clearly totaled, having seen better days after a recent crash. Yet, you could see the way he meticulously worked to fix it up, and admiration swelled within you. “This one looks like it needs a lot of love,” you commented, kneeling down to peek under the car as well.

“It does, but I can fix it,” he said with a mix of confidence and determination. “It just takes time. Plus, I enjoy the challenge.”

“Have you always liked working on cars?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Pretty much. My dad and I used to work on our old cars together when I was a kid,” he said, his voice slightly distant as if reminiscing about those moments. “I guess it stuck with me. It’s therapeutic, you know? Just me and the car, figuring things out.”

You nodded, understanding how those moments could mean so much. “It’s great to have a passion outside of racing. Do you have a dream car you want to work on one day?”

He paused for a moment, considering your question. “Definitely. I’d love to build a classic muscle car from the ground up one day. Something that turns heads and leaves a mark on the road.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, feeling a surge of inspiration at the thought of him chasing another dream. “I’d love to see that happen.”

Ni-ki rolled out from under the car again, this time standing up to face you fully. “You’ll be there to cheer me on, right?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

“Always,” you promised, feeling a warmth spread through you.

He grinned and stepped closer, wiping his hands on his overalls again, though it only spread the grease around more. “Well, since you’re here, you can help me out! I need a second pair of hands to hold the engine cover while I fix this part.”

“Sure! What do I need to do?” you said eagerly.

“Just hold it steady while I tighten these bolts,” he instructed, moving back under the car again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The days leading up to the race in Japan had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure. Ni-ki showed you the sights of Tokyo, from the bustling streets of Shibuya to the tranquil gardens of the Imperial Palace.

As the day of the race approached, however, you noticed a shift in Ni-ki’s demeanor. He became quieter, more introspective, often staring off into space as if lost in his thoughts. You could see the weight of expectations resting heavily on his shoulders.

On the morning of the race, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his expression a mix of determination and anxiety. “Ni-ki,” you said softly, approaching him. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m just nervous, you know? This is a big deal, and I really want to perform well.”

You sat beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his back. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and you’re more than ready. Just remember why you started racing in the first place.”

He nodded, but his gaze remained downcast. You took a deep breath, wanting to instill confidence in him. “You’re going to crush it out there, I know you will. Just focus on driving and trust yourself.”

As you spoke, you could see his tension slowly ease, the fire igniting in his eyes once more. “Thanks for always being here for me,” he said quietly.

Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. “Win for me, okay?” you said with a warm smile, and watched as his gaze hardened with resolve.

“I will,” he promised, the determination in his voice returning. You could see that your words had reignited the spark within him.

As night fell, you found yourselves in the car, cruising through the darkened streets of Tokyo. The city was alive with neon lights reflecting off the sleek surfaces of buildings, casting a colorful glow that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the hum of excitement in the air.

Ni-ki’s hands gripped the steering wheel with a newfound confidence, and as he navigated the winding roads, you could feel the adrenaline building between you. “Are you ready?” he asked, glancing over at you.

“I was born ready!” you replied, trying to keep the mood light, but the thrill of the moment was palpable.

He chuckled, a mischievous grin breaking through his earlier nerves. “That’s what I like to hear.”

As he drove, the anticipation grew heavier. You could almost taste the excitement as you approached the race venue, the sounds of revving engines and cheering crowds growing louder. You felt a surge of pride knowing you’d be right by his side, supporting him through every twist and turn of the race.

“Just remember,” you said, leaning closer as he focused on the road, “no matter what happens out there, you’ve got this."

His expression softened, and he turned to meet your gaze. “Thanks for believing in me. It means everything.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Always, Ni-ki."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You strolled around the venue, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The high-end cars gleamed under the bright lights, each one more stunning than the last. You took your time admiring the sleek designs and intricate details.

Trying to immerse yourself in the culture, you remembered some of the Japanese phrases Ni-ki had taught you during your flight. You approached a group of racers and smiled, offering compliments. While some responded with smiles and nods, others seemed confused, and you quickly realized that your limited vocabulary wasn’t enough to keep the conversations going.

As you wandered, you eventually found yourself standing alone, lost in thought about the upcoming race, when a tall guy approached you with a smirk. He started speaking rapidly in Japanese, gesturing animatedly, but you could only catch bits and pieces.

“Sorry” you said, apologizing. “I don’t understand," you added, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

Instead, his expression darkened, and he leaned closer, his voice becoming more aggressive as he pressed you with questions you couldn’t comprehend. When he reached out and grabbed your wrist, panic surged through you, and you instinctively pulled away. However, his grip was too tight, and the pressure made you wince.

Just then, you heard a familiar voice cut through the commotion. “Hey! Get away from her!” Ni-ki stormed in, eyes blazing with anger as he pulled you behind him, creating a protective barrier.

The guy hesitated, then turned to Ni-ki, their eyes locking as they began to argue back and forth in rapid Japanese. You couldn’t follow their exchange, but the intensity of the situation was palpable. You rubbed your wrist, still feeling the remnants of the man’s grip as you looked from Ni-ki to the guy, who had turned an alarming shade of red, clearly taken aback by Ni-ki`s arrival.

Finally, Ni-ki turned away from the confrontation and guided you toward his car, his grip firm but gentle on your shoulder. “Come on,” he said, urgency in his tone.

“What? What happened?” you asked, bewildered, still trying to process everything.

“I’m racing,” he replied shortly, his eyes focused ahead as he led you toward his Mitsubishi.

“Against who?” you asked, glancing back at the guy, who was now standing there with a scowl, his earlier bravado deflated.

“Against the creep,” Ni-ki answered, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Your heart raced at the thought. “Wait, Ni-ki, you don’t have to do this! It’s not worth it.”

He shot you a determined look, his jaw set. “I know. But he can’t just treat you like that. This isn’t just about racing; it’s about respect.”

You swallowed hard, realizing how serious he was. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, you took a moment to collect yourself, grateful for his protective instincts. “Are you sure you’re okay to race right now?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

He turned to you, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’m fine. I just need to focus. You’ll be right here, right?”

“Of course,” you replied, forcing a smile to reassure him, even though you were still rattled by the encounter.

You took a deep breath, standing between Ni-ki's sleek Mitsubishi and the other guy's car—a flashy, souped-up Honda that glinted under the neon lights. Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through you. You could feel the energy in the air, thick with anticipation as both drivers revved their engines, the deep growl echoing around you.

"Are you guys ready?" you called out, trying to maintain your composure as you pointed toward both cars. Ni-ki shot you a confident nod, his eyes locked on the road ahead. The other driver, still wearing a cocky grin, gave you a thumbs-up.

As the cars revved louder, you turned your gaze to a guy standing nearby, holding a walkie-talkie. He was scanning the area, and when he got the go-ahead that the police were nowhere in sight, he shot you a thumbs-up.

Your pulse quickened at the sight, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. You lifted the flag high, your heart pounding in your chest, and with a swift motion, you waved it down. "Go!" you shouted, your voice carrying over the roar of the engines.

Both cars shot off the line, tires screeching as they sped into the dark streets of Tokyo. You watched as they darted away, the headlights illuminating the path ahead like shooting stars against the night sky. The ground trembled beneath your feet from the sheer power of the vehicles, and you could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as the excitement enveloped you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Ni-ki gripped the steering wheel tightly, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and the other driver raced side by side through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. He could feel the intensity radiating from the other car, a flashy Honda that kept trying to tip him off balance.

“Come on, you think you can take me out?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on the road ahead. The guy was aggressive, swerving dangerously close and attempting to nudge him off course. Ni-ki remained focused, expertly maneuvering around the obstacles in his path.

He drifted into a turn, the tires screeching against the asphalt as he counter-steered and weaved through the traffic. Cars honked and swerved, their drivers caught off guard by the reckless speed of the two racers. The other driver tried to play dirty, attempting to crash into Ni-ki's rear, but Ni-ki was prepared for it. He kept his cool, steering away just in time and cutting in front of the guy as they barreled through a narrow alleyway.

“Not today,” he said through gritted teeth, determination fueling every decision he made.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ni-ki noticed a police car trailing behind them, its sirens blaring loudly. His heart dropped as he glanced in the rearview mirror, the flashing lights reflecting the urgency of the situation. “No, no, no,” he repeated, frustration rising within him. He couldn’t let himself get caught—not after everything they had worked for.

The other driver seemed to notice the approaching officer as well, and in a desperate attempt to throw Ni-ki off his game, he swerved dangerously close, trying to shove Niki into the path of the police car. Ni-ki's heart raced as he saw the cop trying to close the gap, the pressure mounting.

With quick reflexes, Ni-ki shifted gears and accelerated, pushing his car to its limits as he turned sharply to avoid a collision. He felt the weight of the Honda trying to force him into a corner, but he countered with another drift, keeping his grip tight on the wheel. The other driver, frustrated and reckless, made a final lunge for Ni-ki's car, but in the process, he miscalculated.

Ni-ki watched as the guy’s car collided with the police vehicle, the impact sending both cars spinning. Metal crunched, and he could hear the screeching of tires against pavement. Ni-ki couldn’t help but glance back, disbelief washing over him as he saw the police car crash into a row of parked cars, sending them crashing into one another like dominoes.

“Holy—” he breathed, shaking his head. The guy had gone too far. He took a moment to process the chaos, his heart still racing, but he knew he couldn’t dwell on it. The adrenaline and excitement of the race was intoxicating, and he had to keep his head in the game.

Ni-ki refocused on the road ahead, determination burning in his chest. He could see the finish line in the distance, the crowd gathering, their cheers a distant roar that urged him forward. With one final surge of speed, he pressed down on the accelerator, feeling the power of the car respond instantly. He was going to win this race—not just for himself, but for you, the one waiting at the finish line.

As he crossed the line, the cheers of the crowd erupted around him, the thrill of victory washing over him like a wave. But even in that moment, he knew he had to keep his cool and stay grounded. After all, he was racing not just against the clock, but against chaos itself.

As Ni-ki crossed the finish line, the exhilaration of victory pulsed through him. He could hardly contain his excitement as he slammed the brakes, his Mitsubishi screeching to a halt. The roar of the crowd enveloped him, a wave of adrenaline and triumph crashing over him like a tidal wave. He hopped out of the car, his heart racing not just from the race but from the sight of you waiting at the finish line, a wide smile on your face.

“Did you see that?” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy as he bounded over to you. He pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment. The thrill of the win felt amplified with you by his side, and he couldn't help but bask in the warmth of your presence.

“I did! You were amazing!” you replied, laughter bubbling from your lips as he set you down.

“Just doing what I do best,” he said with a playful smirk, rubbing the back of his neck in a show of modesty. But the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. He took a moment to soak it all in, the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears, but it was your smile that made his heart swell with happiness.

As the crowd surged around him, eager to congratulate the victor, Ni-ki turned back to you, his expression softening. “You know, I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “You were my good luck charm.”

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, and you felt a surge of pride wash over you. “I’ll be your good luck charm any day,” you teased, poking him playfully in the side.

The celebration continued around you, people shouting his name and clapping him on the back. Ni-ki basked in the glory, but even as the crowd cheered and celebrated, his eyes kept darting back to you, finding comfort in your presence.

From then, every race he entered seemed to follow the same pattern. Each time, he emerged victorious, his confidence soaring with each win.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Laying on the hood of Ni-ki's car, the warmth of the metal beneath you was comforting as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city. The vibrant hues of orange and pink painted the sky, creating a perfect backdrop for the moment you both shared. You leaned into Ni-ki, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your side, and you couldn't help but smile as you glanced up at him.

Ni-ki's gaze was fixed on you, his eyes shimmering with a mix of happiness and something deeper—something that made your heart flutter.

As you exchanged shy glances, the atmosphere shifted. The distance between you disappeared, and suddenly, you found yourselves inching closer together. Your heart raced, a mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through you as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low and tender.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

In that moment, everything felt perfect. You both leaned in, your lips meeting in a gentle kiss. It started soft and sweet, but as Ni-ki pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, it became something more. His hands slid around your waist, anchoring you to him as you melted against him, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

You could feel his heart racing against your chest, mirroring the excitement and passion that filled the air around you.

As the kiss grew more passionate, you felt Ni-ki’s fingers thread through your hair, pulling you even closer. You sighed against him, savoring the moment, the thrill of it all—this incredible connection that had blossomed between you.

Finally, you pulled away, both of you breathless and smiling like fools, your foreheads resting against each other.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admitted, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

“Oh, really?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. “You seemed pretty good at racing; I thought you’d be good at kissing too.”

Ni-ki chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m still figuring out this whole romance thing. But with you? It just feels right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but lean in for another quick kiss. The sun had fully set now, leaving a blanket of stars shimmering overhead, but the warmth of the moment lingered.

[lechrts]

hi cutie, i wanted to request a little something that i imagined the other day,, it was college sweethearts oscar x femreader, where reader is entering one of her classes, and oscar sneaks into it, sits next to her, and makes her laugh with little sarcastic comments or making fun of the professor, basically trying not to break and laugh... the thing is that they're in entire different degrees..

please and thank you sweetie<3

Ugotme. ✷ Oscar Piastri

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: When he sneaks into your lecture just because of a little hallway crush.

Word Count: 1.8k

Dislacimer/s: just fluff tbh ^_^ && university!au

Vera’s Voice! hope i did this one justice!!!! thank u for the submission request ^_^ ENJOOOYYYT

The crowded university hallway was alive with chatter, the faint hum of conversations blending with the soft squeak of sneakers against polished floors.

You were balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and clutching your bag strap with the other, navigating through the maze of students heading to their respective classes.

Your journalism lecture wasn’t until later, but you were on your way to your slow pace literature seminar, a welcome break from the heavy load of articles and essays you’d been swamped with lately.

And, it was in this busy hallway that he saw you again.

He stood casually beside the wall, patiently waiting for his own lecture to open, though his focus was nowhere near the room he was supposed to be in.

His attention was entirely on you.

He’d noticed you a couple of weeks ago, walking through the same corridor around this time. He didn’t know your name, your major, or why he kept seeing you near the this department, though he was pretty sure this was your turf—but he didn’t care.

Today, something clicked. Maybe it was the way you giggled at something you saw posted on the bulletin or the way you glanced down at the cup in your hand with the faintest smile, but he decided he wasn’t going to let another day go by without talking to you.

When you turned into the nearby lecture hall, he hesitated. His logical brain—honed by hours of problem-solving in engineering—told him to stay in his lane.

But the other part of him, the part that thought you looked far too intriguing to ignore, decided otherwise.

Before he could second-guess himself, he slipped into the same lecture hall, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you.

You had chosen a seat near the middle, pulling out your notebook and laptop with practiced ease. The room was half-full, with students murmuring quietly as they waited for the professor to arrive.

You didn’t notice when he walked in, but you definitely noticed when he sat down beside you.

It wasn’t subtle in the slightest. He dropped his bag with a soft thud and slid into the seat, turning to you with an easy, self-assured smile.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” The boy asked, his Australian accent immediately catching your attention.

You glanced up, startled by the unexpected company before shooting a faint smile. “Uh, no. Go ahead.”

He grinned, and for a moment, you wondered if you knew him from somewhere. His face was familiar, but you couldn’t place it. You didn’t dwell on it, turning your focus back to your laptop.

The professor walked in moments later, launching straight into the lecture with a droning voice that could’ve lulled an insomniac to sleep. It wasn’t long before he leaned toward you again, his voice low and teasing.

“Does he always talk like this?”

You glanced at him, biting back a smile. “Like what?”

“Like they’re narrating an audiobook for a bedtime story no one asked for?”

A giggle slipped out before you could stop it. “It’s a literature class. What did you expect?”

“Literature, obviously. But with a little more... enthusiasm?” He raised his brows for emphasis.

“Well, good thing it’s not his job to entertain you,” You shot back, still smiling.

“Maybe not,” He conceded, “But you’d think they’d try to keep people awake.”

You bit your lip to hide another giggle, but he caught the glimmer of amusement in your eyes and leaned back, satisfied.

As the professor rambled on about symbolism, Oscar tapped his pen lightly against the desk and whispered, “Do you think he rehearses this? Like, in front of a cemetery, maybe?”

This time, you didn’t even try to stifle your laugh. You turned to him, shaking your head. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m serious,” He replied with a smile and shrug. “Someone had to say it.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Are you even in this class?”

He feigned a gasp, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”

“Seems like you wandered in by accident,” You said, narrowing your eyes but unable to hide your amusement.

“Wandered in?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “I’ll have you know I’m here on purpose. Expanding my horizons. Growing as a person.”

“And skipping your actual class, I assume?” You guessed.

“Minor detail,” He said, grinning. “Besides, this seemed way more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “The class, or sitting next to me?”

His grin widened. “I think the answer is obvious…”

You let out another laugh, shaking your head at his boldness. “Wow. Smooth.”

“Is it working?” He asked, his voice light but with just enough intrigue to make your cheeks warm.

“Maybe,” You said, tilting your head as if considering. “Depends. Are you planning on staying the whole time?”

“For you?” He leaned back with a lazy smile. “Absolutely.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face.

The professor’s monotone voice droned on in the background, but you barely noticed. Instead, you spent the rest of the lecture exchanging whispered comments with him—his commentary growing increasingly ridiculous.

By the time class ended, your notebook was only half-filled with notes, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. As you packed up your things, he lingered beside you, clearly in no rush to leave.

The warmth in his gaze made your stomach flutter, and for a moment, you were caught off guard by how sincere he sounded.

“Well,” You said, trying to regain your composure, “You should be careful or else I might start expecting you in all my classes.”

“Would that be so bad?” He asked, his tone playful but his eyes holding yours.

“Guess we’ll find out,” You said with a smile.

“By the way,” He said, his tone softening slightly, “Oscar.”

You stopped, turning to face him fully. “Oscar who likes to ditch his classes for random girls?” Quirking a brow.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oscar who’s hoping you’ll tell him your name.”

You paused, debating whether to play along. But the way he looked at you—equal parts charming and genuine—made you cave and introduce yourself.

“And maybe … Oscar who was hoping he’d get your number…” He grinned as you laughed.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Well, enduring one of my most boring classes just to talk to me… I guess…” You trailed off teasingly, grabbing his phone and punching in your number.

When you handed it back, his grin turned boyish, his confidence softening into something a little shyer. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll only use it to bother you during your lectures.”

“Good,” You said, already walking away, throwing him a glance over your shoulder. “I could use the entertainment… or you can just crash another one of my classes.” You suggested with a small laugh.

“Let me know. And I’ll be there.” He grinned down at you.

“Sounds perfect.” You smiled.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ lmk if u wanna be apart of my perm tags list too!!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress

[zombvic]

hi, i love your writing can you do one where marc guiu is secretly dating lewandoski's daughter and he finds out?

MR LEWANDOWSKI (marc guiu x lewandowski!reader)

summary : in which the polish barcelona player finds out his daughter is dating his teammate

face claim : no-one exact

notes : ty for the request !! im gonna do some requests asap (theres like twenty so plsplspls be patient <3) also im gonna go on vacation soon so ill be less active.

pairings : marc guiu x fem!lewandowski!reader

BEING THE DAUGHTER of the Polish striker, Robert Lewandowski, came with its perks. Some of the benefits was the opportunity to meet your favorite players, attend exclusive events, and see important matches, such as the World Cup and UCL Finals. But managing the constant media attention and living up to the Lewandowski name were only two of the challenges that came with it. The hardest challenge of them all was keeping your relationship with the Barcelona striker, Marc Guiu, a secret.

You knew dating Marc was going to make you slightly insane. The constant hiding and sneaking around was annoying, tbh.. But if you managed to keep this a secret for over seven months, you sure weren't going to fuck it up now.

Hector quickly caught onto your little facade. All three of you were classmates, and it was clear by the looks you exchanged across the classroom, the way Marc spoke to Hector about you, and just the overall way he admired you. Hector was certain you were dating.

Him knowing would actually come in handy. It was a little easier to keep the secret when Hector was on your side. When needed, he helped cover for you by coming up with excuses in case your dad was on the edge of figuring things out.

One afternoon, while your father was out, Marc came over to your house. It was a unique chance for the two of you to have the house to yourselves, and you both wanted to make the most of it.

You were in your room, cuddling on your bed with Marc as a movie was playing on your laptop. It was relaxing, finally a moment of comfort without any worries or the anxiety of getting caught.

"This is nice," Marc murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I wish we could do this more often."

"Me too," you replied, pulling in closer to him. "But you're aware of my dad's history with my ex-boyfriends. If he found out, he would freak out."

Marc sighed as he played with the strings on your hoodie. "I know. Yet, sometimes I picture us going out on a typical date night. No concerns about your father catching us. You know maybe if he got used to our relationship, he could come along."

Playfully poking Marc with your shoulder, you mocked, "Are you using me to date my father?"

Marc gave you a gentle giggle and an amused look as his eyes met yours. "Maybe I am," he answered. "But in all honesty, I just want to go out with you—no sneaking around, just a regular 'I'll have her home by nine, sir' type date."

"Wow, real cute, Marc." Just as you were about to lean in for a kiss, you heard the front door open. Your heart stopped, as you and Marc exchanged panicked and confused looks.

"Oh fuck. He's not supposed to be back yet," you whispered urgently, scrambling off the bed. "You have to hide. Like now."

Marc quickly got up, looking around the room for a hiding spot. "WHAT?! Where should I go?!"

"Jesus Christ, Marc. I don't know just.. just get under the bed or something!" you whispered, trying to keep your voice down.

Just as your father yelled something from the living room, Marc dove under the bed. "Y/n? You home?"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before opening your bedroom door. "Yeah, What's up?"

He walked down the hallway, a frown on his face. "I thought I left my other keys here. Have you seen them?"

You shook your head, trying to look casual. "Nah, I haven't seen them. Maybe you left them in the locker room after training?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe. I'll call someone to check if someone found them. Are you okay? You seem... off."

"I'm good, Dad," you said quickly, hoping he couldn't hear the nervousness in your voice. "Just tired, I guess.."

He looked at you for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. Well, I'm going to head back out then. Let me know if you find the keys."

As he turned to leave, you heard a muffled cough from under the bed. Your eyes widened in horror as your father stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

"What was that?" he asked, turning back to you.

"What do you mean" you said quickly, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "I didn't hear anything. Is your hearing alright?"

"Hey, I'm still only 35 years young. Anyways, I'll just head out, I guess. See you later, honey." He said as he walked out the front door.

As you walked down the hallway to reach your room, you exclaimed, "Marc, what the fuck was that? The one time you NEED to be quiet, you actually cough. How on earth is that possible?"

"Hey, I didn't put all that dust under your bed," he playfully said while hugging you. "Calm down, babe. He didn't even see me."

"Yeah, but he heard your silly ass. Anyways you should just go. He might come back soon."

At least three hours had passed before your dad returned, which was kind of annoying because you had the chance to finish the movie and still had two hours left to hang out without interruptions.

"Hey honey, I'm back home," your dad said as he walked into the house. You were sitting on the couch, watching Suits (a goated show btw).

Your dad's voice startled you, making you jump slightly. You quickly paused the show and turned to face him. "Hey Dad," you replied.

He looked around the living room with a curious expression. His eyes fell upon the hoodie that Marc gave to you. The hoodie that exclusively Barcelona players got. His brow furrowed slightly as he picked it up, examining it with a puzzled look.

"Whose hoodie is this?" he asked.

You swallowed nervously, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. "Oh, uh, that's Marc's," you said, mentally cursing yourself for not changing beforehand. "He gave it to me last week."

Robert's gaze shifted from the hoodie to you, his expression unreadable. "Marc's?"

"Yeah," you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "We… we've been hanging out a lot. Last week i was cold so he gave it to me."

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge your sincerity. "Hanging out," he echoed, more a statement than a question.

You nodded again, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "Okay, yeah. So, Dad, we've been dating for.. a while now."

His eyes widened in surprise, shocked expression on his face. But he didn't look angry. Instead, he let out a slow breath and nodded.

As he stared at you for what felt like an eternity, processing the information, he finally spoke out, his voice calm yet tinged with disbelief, "You and Marc... have been dating?"

"I… I didn't know how you'd react," you admitted, feeling a pinch of guilt for keeping it from him. "And I didn't want you to worry."

Robert leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I see," he said. "And how long has this 'while' been?"

Marc cleared his throat, speaking up, "About seven months, Mr. Lewandowski."

Your dad looked at Marc with a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Marc? What are you doing here?" he asked, seeing him in the living room unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry, sir. Y/n messaged me to come over, so I did," Marc spoke out, trying to explain his sudden arrival.

"Sorry for not telling you sooner, Mr. Lewandowski," he said earnestly. "We didn't mean to keep it from you."

Robert eased his expression and laughed. "I understand," he softly said in response. "While I can't say I'm not surprised, I appreciate your honesty. Also, Marc, we've known each other for some time now. Just call me as usual." Your father joked with his teammate, your boyfriend.

You felt a wave of relief when you realized he wasn't upset. To be honest, he looked more interested than angry. "So, what do you think, Dad?" You questioned him.

Robert leaned forward, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, if Marc here has managed to win your heart for seven months without my knowledge, he must be doing something right," he said, his tone teasing yet approving.

Marc and you exchanged a relieved smile as you felt the tension ease. Despite his reputation for being serious, Your dad has surprised you today by showing you compassion and comprehension.

You said, "Thank you, Dad," appreciating his understanding.

He chuckled loudly and replied. "Please just promise me that you will keep me updated. I'm happy for you both."

It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming feeling of relief. The secret was finally out.

[gloomwitchwrites]

i’ve never really seen dark and unhinged reader x 141 tbh

You know, anon. I am not one to write an unhinged or dark reader. Not that it hasn't ever occured to me, but I just haven't written it. So, to you, I tip my hat for pushing me out of my comfort zone a little bit. I figured that if I was going to write a reader that is dark and unhinged, then I'm going for it. All in. Give me the blood and gore. I want it all. No limits.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: Stalker AU, Serial Killer AU, Detective AU, Cartel AU, canon-typical violence, descriptions of bodily injury, surveillance, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), arranged marriage, creampie, oral sex, knife play, gunplay, brief blood consumption, hostage situations, abductions, using a knife as a dental instrument

Word Count: 3.2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish (Detective/Serial Killer AU)

“Need some company?”

While it’s a question, you don’t really intend for the man to answer. You sit yourself on the stool at the bar, one arm resting against the polished wood.

His dreary demeanor shifts, morphing into interest.

“That’d be lovely,” he replies.

The Scottish lilt to his voice is downright sexy. Your smile grows. There is real attraction in it, even if your purpose is nefarious. This conversation is no accident. You did not stumble into this specific bar on the off chance that you’d find the exact man you’ve been looking for.

No. Not a coincidence.

You’ve been stalking Detective MacTavish for the last couple of weeks. It’s not because you want to fuck him—although that is very much on the table now that you’re sitting here—but because this man is hunting a killer.

Not just any killer.

He’s hunting you.

But not you. Because he doesn’t know. No one does.

At least, not yet. That’s why you’re here after all. To worm your way in, to find out if they’re close to fracturing it all, and bringing you in.

By the appreciative look on Detective MacTavish’s face, you suspect that you’re likely in the clear. Yet knowing for sure won’t hurt anything. Plus, Detective MacTavish is easy on the eyes. Having a bit of fun and playing with your food first won’t hurt anything.

“What are you drinking?”

“Scotch.”

“A gentleman’s drink,” you reply softly, almost a coo.

The smirk on his face widens into a devious grin. “Cheeky.” He downs the rest and gestures at the bartender. “Two. One for the lass here.”

When the glass appears before you, you scent it first, enjoying the smoky aroma. You take a sip. It bites—but it’s delicious.

“You like it?” he asks.

You slowly run your tongue over your lip. It’s a calculated move. Seductive. Detective MacTavish notices, his gaze following your tongue like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“Puts some hair on my chest,” you reply, smiling against the glass as you take another sip.

Detective MacTavish laughs. It’s genuine and sweet. Casually, you scan his body. No wedding ring. But that doesn’t mean much. Public records showed no marriage certificates or even divorce papers.

Not that it would matter. This is about saving your ass.

“To be honest, I’ve been watching you.”

Detective MacTavish cocks an eyebrow. “Watching me?”

In more ways than you know.

“I always walk by here on my way home from work. Sometimes I stop. Sometimes I don’t. Always see you though. On Tuesday and Thursday.” You shrug casually. “Thought I’d finally stop in. Have a drink with you.”

“That’s bold.”

“It is,” you agree. You present your hand and introduce yourself.

“John MacTavish. Friends call me ‘Soap.’”

“Why is that?” you ask, placing your chin in your hand.

You already know, but you want to hear what his version is.

“Got it while serving in the military.”

“So, a secret then?”

He nods. “You could say that.”

You give him your best smile. “And what will it take to get you to spill a few secrets?”

Turns out, not much.

Detective MacTavish groans loudly, his skin glossy with sweat. You take him deeper into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head as you lazily suck. He is a gorgeous specimen. Solid, thick muscle in all the right places.

You retreat slowly, lips tightening to suck a bit harder before his cock pops from your mouth.

The next moan from his lips is sweet. Pushing upward with your hands, you lean into him, and he greets you, lips meeting. The kiss is brief and sweet, and then it becomes anything but. Detective MacTavish grabs the back of your neck and drags you against him, deepening the kiss until you’re breathless.

“Get on your back, lass,” he growls.

You obediently do so, spreading your legs in invitation.

The condom goes on and then he’s inside you again. Detective MacTavish has stamina, and you’re near the breaking point. He pants above you, thrusting perfectly deep, making your toes curl. Your legs settle against him, thighs cradling his hips as skin meets skin.

He dives in for another kiss, and then you’re gone. Completely wrecked.

The orgasm claws its way up to the surface, bursting from your throat to saturated his mouth. Detective MacTavish swallows down the moan, staunching the noise with his own pleasure.

It ends with the two of you tangled up. Sweaty. Chests heaving. Eyelids heavy with lust.

“They call me ‘Soap’ because of who well I clean out a place.” His voice is a but rough—a little husky. It’s sex-laced and perfectly content.

“I’m guessing that doesn’t mean you’re a beast with a mop and bucket.”

MacTavish chuckles. “Aye. I’m good with that, too.”

You turn over in his arms, the two of you gently stroking the other until sleep creeps in. At least, for him it does. Once he’s settled and snoring, you slip from the bed, moving silently into the kitchen.

On the table are stacks of files. Carefully, you open each one, scanning them until you find what you’re looking for. It’s the case file on your hits. You comb through it, but there is nothing about you. Not a peep. And the possible list of suspects are just characteristics. They think it’s some middle-aged white man. How fucking wrong they are.

Gently, you return the file where you found it, slipping back into the bedroom.

No. You don’t need to kill Detective MacTavish. Not yet.

You can still have a bit of fun.

John Price

Every step is a second lost, yet ground gained.

Like a swarm of wasps, bullets fly past Price, striking concrete. Little chunks fly, and then whole pieces go airborne.

Price dives. Rolls. Lands back on his feet.

It’s hell on his knees, and fucking worse on his back, but he hardly feels it. The goal is retrieval. The goal is to find you alive.

Teammates don’t leave each other behind. If one falls, they go back, even if it’s later down the line. You pick them up. Drag them if you fucking have to.

The thing is, you aren’t lost.

Just taken. A hostage.

The wankers that took you didn’t make it far. You’ve only been gone for forty-eight hours. Not long, but long enough that anything could have happened.

Price doesn’t want to linger on it. Doesn’t want to think about what may or may not have occurred while you’ve been away. Doing that won’t help things. It will only take his mind off the task ahead. His focus needs to be on you and you alone.

Price’s heart hammers in his chest. It thumps so loud it nearly drowns out the buzzing of the flying metal. Sweats sticks to his brow, rubbing against his helmet.

Lifting his rifle, John pulls the trigger twice.

A sharp cry followed by a spray of dark red paints the surrounding area in a pretty little arc.

“Do you have a visual?” asks Price into the comms.

Ghost’s reply is immediate. “No, sir.”

Sighing, Price peers over the barrier he’s hiding behind.

Nothing.

No sound. No movement.

Slowly, Price emerges, rifle raised. Each step is a stalk, a predator seeking prey. Price will happily empty more lead into the next person that crosses his path.

Entering the next room, he finds this one empty. There are stacks of crates but nothing else. The only thing of note is a door in the far wall. It is plain and unassuming. Price heads for it.

Reaching out, he curls his gloved hand around the handle. He pushes down, quickly pulls back, opening it wide before aiming the firing end of his rifle into the opening.

No one emerges.

No one stirs.

But of course, they wouldn’t.

There is a secondary door behind this. It is solid and made of metal with a keypad. Price enters the code he got from intel and the door beeps, the light turning green.

It swings open, and inside is a bloodbath.

In the middle of the room is a simple, plain table. It’s unpolished, rough wood. Untreated and left to the elements. There are stacks of cards and beer bottles on top, and not much else.

Of the four chairs, only one is occupied.

But the occupant has no head.

It’s not blown off. It’s sawed off. Placed in the middle of the table.

The three other people who must have occupied the chairs are strewn across the room. Some are gutted, insides around their downed corpses like they were yanked out by a rabid animal.

Price steps around them, his boots touching more blood than concrete floor.

“I have four down. Maybe more.”

“You have a visual on her?” comes Ghost’s response.

“No,” replies Price, throat suddenly dry.

He sweeps the room, but no one comes out to fire at him, or to try and halt his progress. It is entirely quiet.

The light overhead flickers. Price turns, noticing another door. This one stands open, revealing a flight of stairs.

Price approaches, and stops at the top.

There is another body here. It’s near the top, arms outstretched, fingers digging like they tried to claw themselves forward. Price steps around it and nearly slips in the blood.

It’s fucking everywhere.

All over the place.

He descends, exiting out into another room, this one much smaller than the previous one.

At first, Price keeps his rifle raised, but then he lowers it, back straightening.

You are there. In the middle of the room.

Sitting.

Sitting atop a large pile of corpses. Your left boot digs into the top of someone’s skull, but you don’t seem to notice. You’re humming a little tune, almost whistling.

There is blood in your hair. Blood on your face.

It is under your nails and soaked into your clothes.

Leaning back, you curl back your lip, the tip of the knife coming to rest between two teeth as you dig something out.

Price swears he sees bloody chunks there, too.

Something comes out, and Price flinches.

Only then do you glance up.

"Took you long enough, Captain."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (Cartel AU)

There’s a body on the floor.

Not yours. And not Kyle’s.

A competitor. A rival.

You brought the man before Kyle. Tracked him down. Dragged him up for execution.

When the original marriage deal was drawn up, Kyle thought he’d get a pretty face with nice tits that would keep his dick wet and give him some sons to carry on the family legacy.

You do keep his dick wet. But you’re not a spoiled cartel daughter.

Oh, no.

You’re a serpent. A viper.

You are venom and steel.

With you, there is an equal. There is a companion. There is a woman who will give him what he needs to carry on but will happily pull the trigger to see it done.

You are just as fucking bloodthirsty as he is.

Kyle twists his wrist, observing the barrel.

The body on the floor is twisted and broken. The bullet was a mercy.

He glances up, notices the knife you’re holding. At first, you’re not looking at Kyle. You’re staring at the dead man with a blank face. But Kyle reaches out, brushing his thumb across your cheek, smearing red.

You turn then, smiling.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs.

You do so, presenting your tongue. Kyle slides the barrel over your tongue, and then it’s in your mouth. He fucks your mouth with it, and you take it happily. Kyle grabs the front of your throat, turning you away from the scene on the ground.

The knife goes up, presses against his neck.

“Fucking do it, love.”

Your lips are suctioned around the barrel of the gun. Eyes wicked. Knowing. The knife slowly slides upwards, the flat side pressing against Kyle’s lips. He parts his lips, licks off some of the blood.

Kyle eases his hand on your throat, and the gun slowly slides out with a wet pop.

“Show me that pretty pussy.”

Kyle drops his hand, and you saunter backward. Leaning back on the low table, you present yourself, legs spread, pussy bare for him.

He presses the barrel of the gun to your pussy.

“Safety on?” you ask.

Kyle shrugs, and then he thrusts forward a bit, the barrel breaching. You moan loudly, and Kyle gives you more. He moves it in and out of your pussy, watching it appear and disappear, becoming slicker with your juices.

You whimper, and Kyle retreats, placing the gun on the table. Reaching for the knife you discarded, Kyle runs the flat edge over his palm, removing the blood.

Pressing his palm to your mouth, you lick it off—lick him clean as Kyle undoes the front of his pants.

It doesn’t matter that there is a dead man in the room.

Possibly dead.

Kyle didn’t really look. He just shot. He might have missed something vital. The guy isn’t moving but he must still be slightly aware. In pain. The very idea fuels his erection.

Kyle is inside you and thrusts in seconds, every stroke frantic and needy. You take it all, fingernails clawing at him, tearing at his clothes and likely breaking skin.

When you grin, there is blood in your teeth. Kyle matches the smile, and then he’s kissing you, tasting you and the gore. It is salty. Tangy. And you are sweet.

It sends him right over.

His lower back tightens, and then he’s grinding forward, flooding your pussy with his release. Kyle feels it dripping out and around him.

The kisses slow. Becoming soft.

Your fingers lightly brush against his cheek.

Kyle leans in for one more kiss, but a groan comes from somewhere behind him. You glance over his shoulder, the middle of your brow furrowing.

Without taking your eyes off the man, you reach for the gun.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (Stalker AU)

It’s gorgeously easy. You’re oblivious. A perfect victim.

Ghost will ensnare you in his trap and reel you in until you can’t untwine yourself from him. You will become him. You will have no identity. No want or desire that isn’t dipped with his own.

The shadows are his friend. Ghost sticks to the dark, lingering near corners, observing from afar.

You are so oblivious. So adorable.

Breaking you will be sweet. Delicious.

You live on the outskirts of the city. The house isn’t much on the outside. It is the interior where you’ve curated a space just for yourself. You’ve done an excellent job fixing it up.

At least, Ghost thinks so. He’s been inside a few times. Pressed your clothes against his balaclava just to inhale your scent. Sometimes he’d just walk around, picking things up only to place them elsewhere for you to find. It always makes you uneasy when you come home and everything feels a bit off.

It isn’t the only thing Ghost has done while alone in your home. There are gifts he’s left behind. Cameras, actually. He’s been watching you for months now. Learning your habits. Memorizing your routes and schedules.

Tonight is the end of your work week. There are two full days where you won’t be missed. Ghost plan on taking full advantage of every minutes.

Each step leads him closer. Pulls him nearer.

When you enter your home, he waits a full five minutes before approaching from the back, heading for the patio door. In his pocket is a copy of your house key. He retrieves it, sliding it into the lock.

It clicks as he slowly turns it, and the door gives way without it’s usual screech of resistance. He fixed it when he entered your home to tap your cell phone.

Ghost softly shuts the door behind him, crouching slightly as he observers the space around him. All the lights are off except for a small lamp in the living room. From his vantage point in the kitchen, Ghost can hardly see it. The light only reaches so far, and he is still in shadow.

You are not in the kitchen, and as he stalks into the living room, you are not there either. The little office you have on this floor is also empty. The second floor is his best bet. That will make it easier, too. The only way for you to run from him is down the stairs or to leap from a window. The drop isn’t far but he can’t see you risking yourself like that.

As Ghost turns the corner to ascend the staircase, he comes to an abrupt stop.

Next to the front door is the coat closet. It stands open, all the items inside pushed off to either end, revealing a wall.

But not a wall. No.

It’s another door.

This one stands open, and from it comes an artificial, almost white-blue light.

Frowning, Ghost approaches, pausing to glance back into the rest of the house. You are not there. And you don’t linger at the stop of the stairs.

It is still dark. Still absent of you.

Ghost takes a step inside.

Another. Then, another.

The darkness around him gives way to the light. And it is artificial.

At first, Ghost doesn’t understand. Not completely. It’s just a room. A room with no other doors. No windows. On the opposite side—the far side—are computer monitors. The wall is full of them, nearly floor to ceiling. There’s a small desk in front of them and a folding chair.

The light comes from above.

“I know you’re watching me.”

Ghost spins, finding you in the opening of the doorway.

“I’ve been watching you, too.”

You hold something in your hand. It is black and square. Your thumb brushes over it, and then more light floods the room, coming from behind him. Ghost turns just enough to glance over his shoulder.

The monitors are on. And each one shows something of his.

Every room of his flat. The interior of his car. His place of work. Ghost’s favorite pub. Even the corner store he shops at.

“I didn’t have enough time to prepare a room. But I will! I promise!”

You sound so sweet—so earnest, as if you mean every word.

Ghost turns fully toward you. His muscles clench, and then he’s walking, aiming for you and the doorway.

You jump back, and then the door is closing in his face.

You are too quick, and Ghost’s hands slam against solid metal.

“Sorry!” you say, voice muffled. “I’ll let you out soon. But only if you’re good!”

taglist:

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@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @ash-tarte @gingergirl06 @greeniegreengreen

[its-avalon-08]

what about franco x reader: reader wants to breakup with him cause she thinks their relationship might not survive his f1 career and she gets insecure about all the girls he’s going to meet and stuff but he reassures her he actually needs her by his side? 🙏

why me? (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, break up, insecurity, fluff

Y/N's heart pounded as she stared at the news notification on her phone. Franco had finally done it—he had secured a seat with Williams in Formula 1. The moment she should’ve been ecstatic for him, proud of all his hard work and determination, instead left her feeling hollow. It wasn’t that she wasn’t proud of him; she was, more than words could express. But the overwhelming wave of uncertainty crushed her, drowning out the joy she wanted to feel.

This is it. This is the beginning of the end.

She could already see the cracks forming, fractures in their relationship that hadn’t even happened yet. Franco, with his charm and talent, was bound to be surrounded by so many new people—drivers, celebrities, and worst of all, beautiful women who’d be drawn to him like moths to a flame. He would be traveling constantly, pulled in a thousand directions by his career. Where did that leave her?

It’s better to end things now, she reasoned with herself, as painful as the thought was. She didn’t want to be the clingy girlfriend sitting on the sidelines, wondering if he’d forget about her. What if she wasn’t enough for him anymore? What if, in the chaos of fame, he realized he wanted more than what they had?

Tears burned her eyes as she stared blankly at the screen. I can’t do this. I have to let him go before he lets me go.

time skip

Y/N felt a strange mix of pride and unease as she walked into the paddock with Franco. The energy here was electric, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Franco, in his Williams gear, looked like he belonged—every inch the rising F1 star. But that only heightened her anxiety.

As soon as they stepped further in, a small crowd began to gather around them, particularly around Franco. Models, influencers, and PR representatives, all with perfectly polished smiles, swarmed him, vying for his attention. Their bright laughter and easy charm grated on Y/N’s nerves, even though she tried her best not to show it. This was part of his life now, and she had to accept it.

But do I really?

One of the models leaned in a little too close, her hand brushing Franco’s arm as she laughed at something he said. Franco, ever polite, smiled and responded, clearly uncomfortable but not wanting to be rude. Y/N stood off to the side, suddenly feeling like an outsider in his world. The women around him were stunning—tall, glamorous, and effortlessly confident. How could she compete with that?

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she absentmindedly unlocked it, scrolling through Instagram as a distraction. Her heart sank when she stumbled upon the latest post of Franco—one from his PR team, showing him posing by his car, looking effortlessly cool in his racing gear.

The comments were flooded with compliments.

“OMG, Franco is so hot. 😍” “Imagine being his girlfriend… I would die for that smile!” “Ugh, how is he single? I need him in my life.” “He could have any girl he wants tbh.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, her fingers tightening around her phone as she scrolled through more of the comments. Each one felt like a knife digging deeper into her insecurities. These girls didn’t even know him, but they spoke as if he was already theirs.

She glanced up, catching Franco laughing politely at something one of the models said. The sight stung. He was just being his usual kind, respectful self, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch. Her mind raced with doubts. Would it always be like this? Her, standing on the sidelines, while he was surrounded by people who seemed to fit into his new world far better than she ever could?

Maybe this is how it starts, she thought, her throat tightening. Maybe one day he’ll realize he deserves someone like them—someone more glamorous, more confident, more… everything.

The thought hit her like a tidal wave. She could barely breathe as her fingers hovered over her phone screen. Should she say something? Should she pull him aside and tell him what was going through her mind? But then, would he even understand? Or would he just brush off her feelings as irrational?

She took a step back, trying to create space between herself and the scene unfolding in front of her. Her phone buzzed again, and she instinctively checked it, only to see more comments flooding in under Franco’s post.

“I can’t believe he’s still single… lucky girls at the paddock.” “Franco, when are you going to date someone? 😏”

Her heart dropped. I’m right here, but no one even knows that I exist. Y/N closed the app, shoving her phone into her pocket as she tried to fight off the suffocating wave of insecurity building inside her.

Franco finally broke free from the crowd, excusing himself from the models with a gracious smile before turning back to Y/N. He frowned when he noticed her distant expression, walking over and taking her hand. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Yeah, I’m fine."

Franco didn’t seem convinced, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "You sure? You’ve been quiet all morning."

Y/N glanced around at the women still lingering nearby, their gazes lingering on Franco even as he stood by her side. The weight of everything—the comments, the models, the reality of his new life—crushed her. I can’t do this.

"Yeah," she said, pulling her hand from his grasp. "I just need a moment alone." Before Franco could protest, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, confused, as her heart raced with the decision she had already made.

She couldn’t let this continue. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

Y/N had barely spoken since Franco got back from his meetings with Williams. He immediately sensed something was wrong, her usually bright demeanor muted, her smiles forced.

"Y/N, what’s going on? You’ve been distant all day," Franco asked, concern etched in his face as he sat down beside her. His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

She pulled away slightly, feeling the weight of her decision crashing over her again. "Franco, I… I’ve been thinking. About us."

His brow furrowed, the confusion clear in his eyes. "What do you mean? What’s there to think about? Everything’s fine, isn’t it?"

Everything’s not fine.

She drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "You’re going to be a Formula 1 driver, Franco. This is huge—bigger than anything. Your life is going to change completely, and I don’t… I don’t think our relationship is going to survive that."

He blinked, stunned. "What? Why would you even say that? Y/N, we’ve been through so much together, why would you think this would break us?"

"Because you’re going to be away all the time," she burst out, her voice trembling. "You’re going to meet all these new people, and—Franco, you’re going to be surrounded by girls who are way more interesting, more beautiful, more… everything than me. And I can’t compete with that. I’m scared that you’ll realize you don’t need me anymore."

He looked at her like she had just said the most absurd thing in the world. "Y/N, stop. You really think I care about any of that? About some random people I’m going to meet? That’s not what matters to me."

"You say that now," she muttered, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from the pain of her own words. "But what if it changes? You’ll be busy all the time, caught up in your career, and I’ll just be… here. Waiting."

Franco’s jaw clenched as he grabbed her hand, his eyes intense and unwavering. "I need you by my side, Y/N. Not some random person. You." He brought her hand to his chest, his heartbeat strong beneath her palm. "You’ve been with me through everything—the hard times, the wins, the losses. Do you really think I could go through this without you?"

She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill. "But what if—"

"No." Franco’s voice was firm, cutting off her doubts before they could take hold. "No more ‘what ifs.’ I love you, Y/N. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care about the attention, the fans, or any of that. It’s you who grounds me. You’re what keeps me going, even when things get hard. I need you to believe that."

Y/N’s heart twisted, torn between the fear that had been eating away at her and the raw sincerity in his words. "But what if I hold you back? What if you need to focus on your career?"

"Then we figure it out together," he said softly, his hand cupping her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. Not because of fear, not because of this career. I want you with me, every step of the way. You’re the only person who knows the real me. And I need that more than ever now."

Her resolve crumbled as she looked into his eyes, the weight of her fears slowly lifting. "I’m just scared, Franco," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m scared of losing you."

"You won’t," he promised, pulling her into his arms. "You’re not going to lose me. I need you with me, Y/N. We’re in this together. Always."

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act with their clingy s/o

requested by @cinnamoroxie: aaaa your writing is so cute <33 what ab svt w a pretty clingy / touchy reader? take care of yourself lovie and ty for writing this if u do!! 💓💓

notes: i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

seungcheol:

this man is the father of 12 children and a dog. do you think he'd hate clingy people???? loves it when you randomly reach over to take his hand, or play with his hair, or poke his cheeks. is totally okay with you needing to be squished up against him whenever you're in the same space, bc tbh he really wants that too

jeonghan:

pretends to hate it whenever you practically fall on top of him whenever you see him, but wraps his arms around you so tightly so you can't move away. has a hairband permanently on his wrist, partly so he can tie his hair and partly so you can fiddle with something while his hand is in the space between you. his favourite act of clinginess is when you put his head into your lap and pet his hair

joshua:

have you seen this man? he adores affection, but also becomes so awkward in the face of it. basically shuts down if you kiss his cheek more than 5 times in ten minutes. lets out those beautiful laughs whenever you basically tackle hug him every time your eyes meet. would let you put the world on pause to hug him even if the world was trying to end all around you

junhui:

clingy back with you. you have competitions w him about who is more clingy in your relationship. junhui once spent the entire day hanging like a baby bear draped over your back, and you in turn spent the next day Refusing to let go of your arm linked in his. he starts fake-crying if you're in the same room as him for more than five seconds and yet Have Not come over to immediately crush him in a hug

hoshi:

either cannot get enough of it or is a blushing mess the entire time. you pecked him on the lips one time while he was with the rest of the 96z and he went such a bright pink that it was all they talked about for a year. he pouts The Most if you suddenly let go of his hand while you're walking, but is rendered flusteredly silent if you bend down to kiss his knuckles on a whim

wonwoo:

doesn't mind it, as long as it's not too public. however, he still absolutely loves how your touchiness means that your hand is intertwined with his basically 24/7. will politely tell you if it gets too much, but you being so open with your affection helps him relax too and has definitely been the one to lie in your lap a few times when he's had a tiring day

woozi:

he's resigned himself to essentially forever being your hug toy. used to dislike it if you were attached to him for a little too long, but now he visibly pouts if you're not huddled up next to him on the couch while you're together. goes rlly red if your clinginess manifests itself in kisses, and can barely talk for a minute straight afterwards

minghao:

if you flop into his lap the minute you see him, he'll look down at you in mild panic bc he thinks that something terrible has happened to you to make you clingy. soon gets used to it tho and realises it's just your love language, and is way more relaxed when you unexpectedly put your head in his lap. lets you play with his fingers. and his rings. and his nail polish, which keeps getting chipped bc of you

mingyu:

have you seen this man's arms? i'm betting he gives the best hugs. probably works out for that exact reason. if you suddenly hug him then he's not letting go for at least half an hour. looks like a kicked puppy if you try to leave his arms even if "mingyu seriously i need to pee so badly let me go—" "no, you initiated this, you're not escaping so soon"

dokyeom:

it never even occurs to him that your behaviour could be classified as 'clingy' because he. he is the exact same as you. loves to boop your nose and will giggle so hard if you do it back to him. the idea of you two Not being touching in some way is a concept that just doesn't exist. jeonghan jokes you must have a string connecting you two or something bc you're always together

seungkwan:

he's a hyper person, can barely sit still due to his urge to kick hoshi or argue with dino. however, if you're next to him and link an arm with his or lay your head on his shoulder, he's instantly ceasing his frantic bouncing so you can comfortably touch him. if he gets too worked up tho, then he'll grab your hand instead n drag you around while telling everyone off bc even when mad he'll let you touch him for however long you need

vernon:

totally cool with it. you wanna tug on the hair on the back of his neck while you're bored? he'll tilt his head downwards slightly to give you better access. if you're wearing face paint or makeup tho, pls don't lean your head on him bc he'll get yelled at by seungkwan yet again if he goes to the guy for help in removing makeup stains from his clothes

chan:

loves when your clinginess turns into you just babying him. pinch his cheeks, play with his hair, coo all over him and he's grinning so hard and his serotonin levels are through the roof. vv chill when it comes to your affection, goes about his day super normally even if you're basically hanging off his back like a koala

request guidelines

[tanuki-kimono]

Hello ! I've been really into Gegege no Kitarou recently, and looking at his mom made me wonder : back when kimonos were worn on a daily basis, how did pregnant people style them ? Did they wear other types of clothes that don't compress the stomach as much instead ? If you happen to have any info on this, it would be very cool :)

Hi! It's hard to imagine as many kitsuke pictures now promote perfect tubular silhouettes with not a fold out of place, but in the past kimono were worn far more loosely than they are today!

Kimono was then worn everyday (=no time for perfect polished photoshoot looks ;), many kistuke accessories we now use didn't even exist (=they were not needed!).

During Edo period to late Meiji, feminine silhouettes were far more flowy/willowy than what we have today:

Kimono tended to be longer (hikizuri for ex.) and adjusted far less tighlty on the upper body (=people were working!). Depending on the period obi were narrower, or worn differently (criss crossed for ex.) or laxer than what we do today.

Pregnant women had no trouble adjusting their clothes to their changing bodies :)

The kimono was worn looser and looser as belly and boobs grew. If possible, kimono could have been unstitched and retailored (if fabric allowed it) to the bigger size needed.

Obi and ties were set above (and/or under the belly depending on time), like so:

And pregnancy belts were widely used.

One belt was a type of sarashi (soft cotton roll, which was also used for chest) named hara-obi 腹帯, which provided support:

Another special belt was the Iwata-obi 岩田帯, used during Obi-iwai 帯祝い, a ceremony taking place on the day of the dog during the fifth month of pregnancy. This was meant to ensure safe birth, as dogs were thought to give birth easily - hence why inu hariko are good luck charm for expecting women:

The obiiwai was also a way to announce a pregnancy to the community (as miscarriages, abortions, and infanticides were sadly quite common then).

Iwata obi are still a thing, here are modern ones:

Finally, as a side note, what pregnant women could do if they felt smothered by their kimono? Well, just open the damn thing to wear it much like a robe!

Japan had not the same shaming view of female breasts than the West then. It was quite common to see some working class people in underwear/loosely dressed, or have both sex share spaces in the nude (baths for ex.).

Tbh, unless she was living a sheltered life (no work, servants, etc.), I don't see why a pregnant woman would have bothered with a properly adjusted kimono, when she could have just be much freer and comfortable xD

Hope this helps!

[parkersbliss]

your instagram when dating spencer reid

inspired by @/happiesthotch @/hotchaways :)

Liked by garciagirlie, alexblake and 374 others

ssa(y/n) love his clown feet 🫶🏼

view all 27 comments

spencephd love her baby feet ❤️

rossisrotini I didn’t know they could be nice to each other

→ jjareau she texted me after posting this and said he slam dunked her with a pillow

→ ms_emilyp @/ssa(y/n) use two exclamation points if you need help

→ ssa(y/n) HELP‼️‼️‼️‼️

→ agenthotch wheels up in 20, you heard her

d.morgan oh to see pretty boys feet

→ ssa(y/n) my eyes only 😡😡

→ spencephd im not sure how to feel about this

→ garciagirlie I could get you photos of lots of feet

→ agenthotch I think we need to have a talk about this

→ garciagirlie i meant my feet with fresh new nail polish* 😁

→ agentahotch 😐

liked by therealellew, jjareau and 427 others

ssa(y/n) pov garcia & morgan are on the phone

view all 33 comments

garciagirlie where’s my chocolate thunder

→ d.morgan right here baby girl 😏

→ spencephd we can’t escape them

→ ssa(y/n) but we can do worse ;)

→ ms_emilyp @/agentahotch do something about this

→ agenthotch no

rossisrotini I beg of you both to not become like them

→ spencephd now you’re just tempting us to do worse 🤷‍♂️

→ ssa(y/n) I await those glorious hands of yours, doctor

→ jjareau what have we started

→ ssa(y/n) ITS FOR A MASSAGE CHILL 😭

→ d.morgan could’ve fooled me tbh

liked by itsmattsimmons, d.morgan and 503 others

ssa(y/n) someone didn’t pass the physical fit test

view all 17 comments

d.morgan is he looking for a trainer 👀👀

→ garciagirl no. never again with you.

→ spencephd literally leave

→ jjareau we’re doing just fine without you 😘

ms_emilyp reid looking to outrun his paperwork

→ ssa(y/n) more like reid running to catch some bitches

→ spencephd so I’m chasing after you?

→ ssa(y/n) 😡😡

agenthotch who’s not doing paperwork 🤨

→ rossisrotini exposed like the lazy kids you are

liked by spencephd, agenthotch and 292 others

ssa(y/n) got my bitch <3

view all 19 comments

Spencephd 😐

→ ssa(y/n) notice how you didn’t correct me

→ spencephd can’t even tie her own shoes smh

→ ssa(y/n) LMAOOO that’s what you’re for SIMP

garciagirlie the love birds are at it again

→ jjareau love birds sounds more like enemies these days

→ d.morgan isn’t that the fun in it?

→ ssa(y/n) yes, he literally just threw the shoe at my face 😇

rossisrotini @/agenthotch got another case for ya

→ ms_emilyp that’s the sound of the police reid 🚨

→ spencephd you know statistically, it takes the police an average of 7 minutes to get to the scene. I could be long gone by then.

→ d.morgan I can hear him through my phone

→ spencephd :)

liked by alvarezluke, rossisrotini and 338 others

ssa(y/n) candid of my favorite nerd 🤭

view all 31 comments

spencephd I’ve been exposed 😟

→ ssa(y/n) wanna be exposed in a different way?

d.morgan looks like we got competition @/garciagirlie

→ garciagirlie 😏 been exposed for years to you baby

ms_emilyp 🤢 I’m moving back to london fr

→ jjareau take me with 🙏🏼🙏🏼

→ garciagirlie GIRLS TRIP

→ ssa(y/n) LETS GO

→ ms_emilyp not you ❤️

rossisrotini 🥂 cheers you two but keep it in your pants

→ ssa(y/n) hard to when he’s this fine 😫

→ spencephd actually die

agenthotch this is what we call a hostile work environment

→ d.morgan you weren’t even there for that hotch

→ agentahotch I have my ways

→ garciagirlie please don’t bring back such traumatizing memories

→ jjareau clearly we need to have this conversation again

— END —

want to be tagged in future fics? click here!

read more here!

a/n finally got around to writing some criminal minds stuff 😫

[azrakaban]

Heyyy how are youu?

I saw your resquests are open and i wanted to ask:

Enemies to lover with the boys? Mattheo pretty please and reader being a hufflepuff?

Like the whole you meet and both hate each other from the start for years because reader is always in her own world reading caring for magical creatures but she isnt afraid to talk back to them when they're arguing (like calling them players or returning their insults) until one of them as a 'fuck it' moment and kisses the reader and confess their love?

Sorry that was long thank you for taking time to read and thank you if you do write it 🤭💋

I'm great my lovely! Having a good day? Did you drink and eat 2day? :)

actually fr giggled and blushed when making this tbh, have so many Hufflepuff friends so basing this off of them <3 Also totally happy to write for Mattheo hes so bbg !

Careful - Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo Riddle didn't like you. That was clear to anyone who saw you two interact, and honestly, there never seemed to be any kind of reason behind it.

The assumption was just basic house prejudice, but Mattheo was fine with other Hufflepuffs, so why were you so 'special'? You knew he had it in him to be nice, heck, you'd harboured a crush on him since third year, so why now had he decided to be an ass?

Maybe it was that you had a habit of tripping over certain uneven flagstones when reading, or accidentally smashing bottles in potions because you'd spotted a niffler. But you couldn't help being clumsy, right?

Everytime something like that happened, Mattheo would give a sigh and eye roll, which made you upset, naturally. It's not like you wanted to fall over!

As a result you would confront him and he would say the obvious. 'you're so uncoordinated it's almost painful to watch.' Well unfortunately for you, it actually was painful.

So you could imagine the reaction when Snape paired you for potions.

"Careful."

"Shut up, I am being."

A quiet sigh.

"CAREFUL!" He threw out a hand to steady a jar of frogspawn you had nearly knocked over. You glared at him.

"It wasn't my fault, it was in an awkward place..." You said quietly.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, with that same sigh. "I'm sure it was."

You rolled your eyes, mocking him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Mocking me? Real mature n/n." You mocked him again, and he copied you.

"Mr Riddle, Ms L/N, something you'd like to share?" Snape said acidly. You quickly stopped, shaking your heads.

"No sir."

Once he had turned away, Mattheo muttered to you. "Your fault."

You gasped, offended. "It was yours, whore!" You replied indignantly.

Mattheo scoffed, trying to continue work on the potion. You pushed him to the side, and he looked at you in shock for a second, before pushing you out the way.

You did the same, and it turned into a war, before you both pushed at the same time and ended up on the floor.

"L/N, Riddle, Detention." Snape said greasily. "And leave the class."

You both packed your things, flushing, and left.

"Your fault." He murmured, smirking.

"Honestly fuck you." You replied.

"Careful."

"Shut up."

"CAREFUL!"

You turned, glaring. "How about, until told otherwise, I'll be careful?"

Mattheo rolled his eyes. "Good idea."

You two were stuck in detention together, polishing trophies. Mattheo sniggered.

"You should get one for falling over, your face seems to have magnetic attraction to the floor." You bit back an exasperated scream.

"Look, I don't get why you hate me Mattheo, but just stop!"

"y/n-"

"No, no, just shut up! Can you just stop?"

"Y/N-"

"I don't like it when I fall over, it hurts, but you seem to be a sadist on some level-"

"Okay fuck it, I'm just going to shut you up."

Mattheo kissed you then, cupping your face in his hands, pulling back after a few seconds.

"I don't like it when you fall over either, you know, y/n." He said, rolling his eyes. "I can tell it hurts, so it irritates me that you're not more careful! You get hurt, Y/N, I see the bruises, and that hurts me too. Just... look out for yourself? For me?" He pleaded with you.

You froze, trying to process.

"Okay so... you don't hate me?" You said, confused.

"No actually, I kiss all the people I hate to shut them up. Oh look, here comes Potter, I'd better give him a snog. NO, Y/N, I DON'T HATE YOU." He laughed.

You giggled quietly, then smirked. "You like me." You said in a sing song voice.

Mattheo flushed slightly. "Do not." He grumbled.

"Youuuuu like meeee." You sang, giggling.

He kissed you again, effectively shutting you up as you kissed him back.

"You like me too though, y/n, let's not forget that." He smirked.

"You know you can't just kiss me every time you need me to be quiet." He laughed at that.

"Don't worry, I plan on kissing you a lot more than that. Though you do have quite a tendency to yap." He reminded you.

You poked your tongue out, moving back to the trophies to continue your detention, and nearly tripping over another wobbly flagstone.

"CAREFUL!"

Love and thanks for the request, hope this was what you were looking for, remember to eat and drink water <3

[elicypher]

⚠️: william james moriarty x gn!reader, smut, penetration, no gender specific genitalia mentioned, soft sex, lazy(?) and lowkey steamy sex, light teasing, OOOH WAIJT DRUNK!!! SEX!!!!!, also kinda fluffy tbh, he talks you through it, very lovey dovey basically, not proofread (none of my works are)

ok i had to walk away SEVERAL times from my screen for this pls enjoy it + highlight smut one of the day. actually night for me but yk🙏🙏🙏

art credits to @ilikecarpet1 on x. go check them out

the world felt tilted, swimming under the soft haze and champagne. the dim glow of gas lamps threw flickering shadows across the richly paneled room, where the distant strains of a waltz spilled through the half-opened door.

it was just you and william here, tucked away from prying eyes.

his dark red cravat, hung loose, the buttons of his black waistcoat undone—a rare dishevelment for a man of his standing. his eyes were red and searching your face, though his gloved hands seemed to be trembling as they reached for you.

"are you sure about this?" he murmured, his voice low and strained. a flicker of hesitation had flashed across his face, but soon melted the instant your alcohol drenched lips met his.

it was fervent, almost desperate—the kind of kiss that left no room for thought. just the taste of him, him and him.

"what," you smiled against his lips. "getting shy on me?"

he pulled your body flush against his own. "hardly." he whispered. "but this is madness. you realise that, don't you?"

"and yet, here we are." your reply was barely above a whisper. sultry, daring, and reckless as your fingers toyed with his lapels.

you pulled him down onto the velvet sofa, you beneath him as the the heat of his hands held him besides you, a knee ridged between your legs and the slow, spinning gravity pulling the both of you under. william hummed, though the noise that escaped his chest was hoarse. "if someone finds us—"

"let them."

the boldness of your words surprised even you, and the way his gaze darkened—hooded and heavy with lust, desire and confirmation sent a shiver down your spine.

a pause—then, "god, help me."

william whispered before claiming your lips again.

his gloved hands were discarded now, and his slender fingers pushed up and past the fabric of your shirt/blouse. a gasp left your lips at the satisfying touch, yet your back arched off the cushions below, trying to meet the pads of his finger once more.

"mm," you groaned, but the sound was swallowed by his mouth.

his lips, warm and damp, tasted of bourbon and the faintest trace of salt. it was intoxicating in more ways than once. your fingers tangled in william's hair, and you felt him exhale sharply. time seemed to stop and stretch, the line before minutes dissolving like sugar in a glass of rum.

when he pulled back, just slightly, his forehead rested on yours, his breath hot against your lips. his gaze, which was bloodshot and hungry, caught your own inebriated eyes. and for a second, neither of you moved; chests heaving and touching unevenly.

"i need you," you declared—and then, with a soft and needy groan, he pulled you back in, as if he couldn't stand to be apart for a minute longer.

you couldn't quite recall when your legs had first given out, but you knew it had been a while. the room felt endless and distant, the earlier laughter and music nothing more than a mere memory. everything outside of him had ceased to matter, leaving only the sounds of your shallow breaths and his low murmurs.

your undeniably red cheeks rested against the polished velvet of the settee, and his careful hands kept you upright. one of his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you back against his pelvis. "look at you," he exhaled, but you could hear a proud smile in his voice. the only noises that escaped you were your moaning and repeated gaps of his name. "my sweet darling."

"you're going to ruin me." he kept thrusting in and out of you, fluids of arousal seeping outside your fluttering hole.

"you—ah!" your voice cracked. your throat felt dry after making all those noises trying to accommodate him. "i think you'll like it."

every time you clenched back on his throbbing cock, his jaw slackened and his head fell onto your shoulder, groaning. he painted against your skin, pressing a kiss on the shell of your ear. "yes," he huffs out a breathy laugh, one of amusement and resignation. "certainly... i would. for you alone i am debased."

"damnit—" you hissed when you felt a particular stroke reach a deeper, sweeter part of you. "so—so good, shit.. ngh."

the room tilted again, and he caught you before you slipped too far, his grip firm despite the unsteady sway of his own body. everything felt woozy. blurry. shapeless.

"you're.. haa.. doing good, darling. keep arching for me."

william whimpered quietly when he snapped his hips once more against your skin. his palms were clammy with sweat, and your own heated, slightly steaming hips kept slipping from his palms. you tried to lift yourself, but your arms refused to cooperate.

"william, please— i can't..."

"easy, my love..." he exhaled shakily. his hands slid down to your thighs, anchoring you. the velvet couch met your knees again as he eased you down, your legs too weak to support you and the weight of him behind you anymore. he followed, his pelvis pressing against your ass. "i've got you."

the effort in his drunken state made him stumble slightly, his chest pressing on your back as he laughed—a throaty, soft sound that buzzed your skin.

"ah.." you moaned. you turned your head slightly to meet his lips, and your body pressed back for more friction. "liam— mmph.."

"you're so gone, aren't you?" he whispered, voice slurry.

"takes one to, uh..." you moan, brows creasing. "—know one." you nibble on his trembling lower lip.

you knew he was close, and so were you. he was aware of this, too, when he felt your legs begin shaking under him.

"you're shaking," william knew. but william wanted you to say it loud. you felt his obvious smile against your neck, though it was fleeting, soon replaced by the scrape of his teeth. "why are you shaking? am i doing something wrong, pretty?"

"i—" you gasped, feeling william's pace quicken inside of you, his thrusts grew more uncoordinated—and so did his breath, heavy and ragged. "i... don't know."

"yes, you do." you felt his lips on your jaw, soft and warm, the taste of him all whiskey and desperation. "talk to me," he urged, his hands leaving your thighs to travel to your chest, his fingertips rolling your nipples, voice dropping into something raw and pleading. "does it felt good, pretty? say you feel me. say you feel this too."

"i do," you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "i feel everything. it feels so, uh—! it.. it feels so good. like nothing else matters to me except you. i love you..."

that was enough for him, you think, that was the tip of the edge he was barely standing on and you managed to push him right off with your words—because in minutes, in mere instants, the snapping of his hips, the roll of his thrusts, they grew urgent—drawing loud moans out from the both of you.

"ah..! liam, please please, i'm close— liam, i'm..—"

"god—damn it," he whined out, his hips stuttering. both of you were losing yourselves to the alcohol and the pleasure. every thing carnal and disastrous. "stay with me, (name).. stay with me." he rasped, but his voice was breaking into whimpers.

almost instantaneously, as soon as those words left his lips, you felt his body shudder and flashes of white painted the both of you. his lips found yours again, messy and uncoordinated, but it didn’t matter. it was drunken and desperate and fierce all at once, the kind of kiss that made the room spin faster and slower. the taste of him, the heat of his hands, the weight of him against you—it consumed everything, drowning out the rest of the world. his heated, panting body collapsed on your own.

the only noises that filled the room for a long time were your recovering breaths, bodies and shuffling as the two of you got into a more comfortable position. he broke the silence.

"(name)..?"

william slowly turned your face towards him, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "you did well.. are you okay, my love?"

you nodded, but your inebriation and exhaustion was pulling you to a deep slumber. "stay up for me, darling. don't sink on me." he whispered, patting your flushed cheeks. "the night is still young."

"i'm not...sinking." you babbled sleepily, yet your head lolled to the side, resting against his chest. "just floating."

william couldn't help but grin lazily. "floating.." he repeated quietly. almost thoughtfully. "i'm floating too. because of you."

"be quiet." you giggled, looking at his curved lips and his unfocused, glassy eyes. he wrapped his arms around you. he was so soft. "you're drunk."

"hm..." he laughed amusedly, voice soft as he intertwined his fingers with your own. "takes one to know one, remember?"

© eliasorchard — don't retranslate, repost and claim as yours.

[illubean]

hxh characters if reader asked them to paint their nails:3

Painting Their Nails

Characters: Gon Freecs, Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paladiknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer Type: Fluff, Headcanons, gn!reader

I wasn't sure what characters you wanted so I'll just do it for everyone currently on my masterlist ^__^

Warnings: none

Gon Freecs

"Only if I get to paint yours!"

he doesn't mind you painting his nails, he actually thinks it's kind of fun

it would turn into a spa day!

he likes picking out your nail color and is 100% down to do facemasks too

if you use mud masks or homemade facemasks...oh boy

prepare to get messy

ANYWAYS back to the nails

he doesn't care what colors or designs you do, he just likes hanging out with you!

if you let him do your nails, he probably wouldn't be the best or neatest but its cute because he tried anyways!

Killua Zoldyck

he would fight yo on it tbh

painting each others nails? that's for girls!

after growing up the way he did, his mind can be a little stuck with traditional gender norms and standards

but if you have Alluka on your side? instant victory

he would let you guys paint his nails but not without complaining the entire time

when you guys are done he actually kind of likes it

if you guys offer to take it off after because of all his prior complaining he would snatch his hands away

"Pft, that would be a waste of time! It's already done anyways.."

Kurapika Kurta

good luck catching at a time he isn't busy

he's pretty indifferent about it actually

probably doesn't understand why you want to, but will let you if it makes you happy

his only request is you use dark colors

he prefers colors like burgundy, navy blue or black ("bLaCk IsNt A cOlOr" I KNOW THAT BUT FOR THE SAKE OF THIS IT IS)

he would leave the nail polish on until it starts chipping or you offer to redo it

Leorio Paladiknight

no

he fights you even harder on this than Killua

he wouldn't let you without some kind of incentive 😭

and that incentive would have to be cash or.. a favor

he wouldn't mind watching you do your nails though! he actually thinks it's kinda cute how you pay attention to those things

if you ask him for color suggestions he would tell you light blue without a second thought

Illumi Zoldyck

again, no

he doesn't even argue with you on this he just won't let you

you could probably convince him to let you give him a manicure but no color

how boring -__-

in his mind, he's an assassin and doesn't have time to worry about silly stuff like that

Chorollo Lucilfer

he'll let you if he honestly has nothing better to do

he would look down at a book in his lap while you work, reading and asking you to flip the page for him every so often

he actually really likes them if you do a design resembling his coat

he feels like a pretty princess think's it gives him an extra classy look