#like you can continue to personally make it about race anon

[hanasnx]

being spencer’s secret lowkey girlfriend who also happens to work at the FBI, but in a different unit. and there’s always talk about how hot you are and spencer always hears how much people want to fuck you.

and he just has to laugh to himself because at the end of the day he’s the one who gets to fuck you into the mattress every single night 🙂‍↕️🩷

OH, SHE’S SO HOT — s.reid

“ be my addiction, material girl / wrapped ‘round my finger like diamonds and pearls ” 🪽

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ✉️ | criminal minds. NOTES. thank god u said smthn anon ive been wanting to write about smthn like this. also im only on s1 so those are the characters i’ll be using. WARNINGS. fem reader ノ established relationship ノ everybody thirsting over you is currently single ノ suggestive material.

“she’s pretty.” jennifer relents with a shrug. her curiosity gets the better of her and she leans forward for a better glimpse of you. this isn’t your unit, but you’re paying a visit to hotch over at the far side of the room. “she’s really pretty.” she muses, her tone shifting to one of admission while she sizes you up. it’s not that you’re any kind of threat or unwelcome presence, but now the wheels in jj’s head are turning, “her and hotch aren’t… they couldn’t be…” SPENCER REID, who’s been sitting politely at his desk, perks his head up. he hadn’t seen you come in, but his pen raises and his lips part, all to claim you as someone he knows until he’s interrupted.

“girl like that? c’mon. at the very least he’s thinking about it.” derek chimes in, smoothly taking an open seat in one of the desk clumps to join the gossiping throng. spencer closes his mouth, pen dropping to his lap defeatedly. jj shifts in her position, having leaned her tailbone on the edge of the desk to cross her ankles smartly. now she needs a better angle to see you and aaron’s conversation. derek gestures to your back with his hand vaguely, addressing the group like he’s an expert in using his background in profiling for this specific strain of body language. spencer obediently follows the direction, furrowed brows landing on you as he cranes his neck to see you. “look at the way he’s standing. toes pointed towards her, making eye contact. he wants her.” derek scoffs, taking a long sip from his coffee as he studies you. it’s hard to tell from just the sliver of your face visible, but he’s seen enough of you to know you’re a catch. the genius starts to scratch his head.

“guys, hate to be the buzzkill, but can we get back on task?” elle interrupts just as jj was opening her mouth to continue scheming. “we don’t know anything about her. besides, hotch isn’t the kind of guy.”

“kind of guy to what?” jj clarifies with an impish tug to her lips, pivoting her head to cast elle a sly glance.

elle meets her gaze. “to get into a workplace relationship. he’s too professional for that.” she pinches her one shoulder in a shrug as she organizes a pile of files. spencer’s lips purse, mind racing at the prospect of being judged for unprofessionalism. it did occur to him there would be some scrutiny involved, which is why you and him have mostly been sneaking around thus far. still, it’s intimidating to have it laid out like this in front of him… and oddly thrilling. his fingers begin to fiddle with the pen in his lap. big, brown eyes glance from person to person as they lead the conversation, soaking in all the information like a sponge.

“he’s a guy.” derek once again imposes his theory, and says the statement like it’s definitive. even jj rolls her eyes. spencer clenches his jaw, tilting his head to himself as if it say, yes, that’s true. i fell for it, too.

“just because you haven’t been getting any doesn’t mean you get to go and make it everyone’s problem.” the blonde teases, straightening to her full height, heels clacking as she passes behind derek, giving him a healthy pat on his shoulder while he laughs sarcastically.

“ha. ha.” it’s a dry reply, one that leaves the group quiet for a second while penelope takes the recently departed’s place. “hey, garcia.”

“hey, what’re we talkin’ about?” she asks in that perky voice of hers, it’s only the throng’s hushed tones that bring her down to their level. she ducks her head symbolically. “sorry. didn’t know we were swapping secrets.”

elle may not act amused, yet she’s still participating. “they’re talking about hotch and the new girl.”

“tattletale.” derek taunts.

“grow up.”

“the new girl?” penelope confirms quizzically, twisting her face to match her dialogue as she scans her surroundings. it’s clear when she’s spotted you because her jaw drops, “oh, she’s hot.” once again she’s scolded by her colleagues shushing her, ducking down a second time with some exclamation about how weird they’re being. semi-hidden behind a desk’s partition, she goes for a second look. she doesn’t announce to everyone that you made hotch laugh. it’s a small kind of chuckle, a clear smile on his lips. it’s something spencer notices though, and he bows his head to avert his prying eyes. he doesn’t know hotch to joke around like that, and he doesn’t like the way it feels. instead, penelope points something else out, “she kind’a looks like spencer’s type, don’t you think?” her thumbs gestures to you lazily, and everyone looks at you through a new lens.

derek sets his sights on something to antagonize, “huh. awfully quiet there, reid.” he muses as he leans over, the flat of his hand batting spencer’s shoulder to get his attention. “what d’you think of her?” he asks coolly, sinking back into the chair while he sets his ankle up on his knee.

“hm?” spencer responds as if he hasn’t been listening, pulling the pen from between his lips. he meets derek’s gaze over the coffee cup, and all derek does is point and nod towards you discretely. spencer obliges now that he’s been asked directly. “oh, um…” he takes his time. “i dunno, she’s… i dunno.” brown eyes drool down like molasses, from your hair, to your smart outfit, to the seams from your pantyhose at the backs of your calves, to your black heels. you know he loves that. he’s broken through a couple pairs of those tights because he just couldn’t wait. “she’s… you know…”

the speechlessness causes a small eruption behind him, the group swapping expressions and silent conversations about his reaction. the spencer they know would start talking about the quality of fabric you’re wearing, the history of it and how—fun fact—it started some war in some country that doesn’t exist anymore. any useless knowledge he could spit out because his brain is a computer. they don’t get a chance to break the silence, you and hotch split. hotch begins his ascent to their desk clump and you pass by. everyone averts their eyes, everyone but spencer. you’re not shy either. you hold his eye contact, you even give him a small knowing smile, and a deliberate nod. derek’s jaw seems to unhinge witnessing such an obvious bid. spencer glances back at everyone, “now, guys—now, now—“ he stutters out, trying to fit words in with innocent gestures and a nervous grin. derek’s hand clamps on his shoulder and jostles him in some kind of show of manly camaraderie.

“dr. reid, you dog!”

“she was totally looking at you, spencer!”

“oh, my god.” derek, penelope, and elle respectively all give their input just as hotch approaches.

“what’s this about?” he asks, brows knit together at such an unusual display. spencer can’t seem to answer that either, shoulders stuck in a shrug and mouth open to make some case that never gets made.

@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[dudududuumaxverstappen]

SURPRISE LN4 x f. READER

note: thank you for this request! ot was so fun to write, I hope you like it🧡

request: thank you for opening for requests! can i ask for a surprise visit from reader in monaco to support lando after telling him that you couldn't be there because of sickness. he was so surprised to see you smiling, waving at him when he was standing on the podium and immediately jumped off to run toward you.

requested by: anon

warnings: none

Sweat beads on his forehead, as Lando climbs out of his car, arms thrown into the air, cheering.

Another podium. Another pole position. Another win.

He has done it once more, and your heart almost bursts with pride.

Behind you the Monaco harbour, packed with yachts and rich people, is drowned out by the cheering mass around you, the people pushing and shoving you as they jump with joy and you try to make your way through them. To him. Unfortunately you have lost the grip on Lando‘s mum‘s hand, and now she has disappeared somewhere into the crowd in front of you, probably also looking for you.

You pause for a moment, finding peace in this moment of utter chaos. Lando truly won Monaco. Your boyfriend won Monaco. It‘s real. And you couldn’t be prouder.

A big, silly grin spreads over your face the further you think about it. Your heart begins to race even faster when you continue to push forward. The energy is electric, buzzing with tension and bliss and then …

… you finally spot him, atop his car, cheering.

A breathless laugh slips through his lips as he jumps down, grinning into his helmet, overwhelmed with adrenaline and joy as cheers -hundreds of voices-erupt around him.

He did it. He truly did it. He won Monaco.

He opens his helmet, the huge smile on his face not once fading as he waves to the crowd, high-fives his team, and lets himself enjoy the moment as long as it lasts. In a few minutes he would have to go up onto the podium, spritzing champagne at one another, celebrating the win.

But for now he‘s with his fans, his team, the electric feeling within the crowd making his heart burst with joy.

With joy and—

Turning his head the slightest as he walks towards the crowd, he notices how Charles is embraced by Alex. They share a hug, a small peck and a small pang of hurt pierces his heart.

He shouldn’t be sad right now, not in a moment like this, but he can’t shake the flicker of frustration. He wishes you were here, that you could celebrate with him. That he could pull you into his arms right now, hug you, kiss you. Hear your voice, hear you say how much you love him.

But you are not here.

You got ill before the trip. Obviously he would never force you to come…

He gives his head a shake. He will call you when he’s back in the hotel, for now, he tells himself, he has to enjoy the moment. He should be proud and joyful. He gives his head a little shake, hoping to clear it of the negative thoughts.

He shakes hands with some fans, accepting their compliments with a big grin on his lips and eventually he is pulled into his mother’s arms. That’s when the tears start to roll, his own, hers - tears of pure joy and pride.

Cheeks damp with sweat and tears, hand still holding onto his mother‘s, he tilts his head back and looks out into the sea of fans, not able to comprehend the sheer joy radiating from each single person there.

And that’s when it happens.

A small shift in the crowd, right behind his mother, people move aside slightly, someone pushing forward.

He sees someone waving, smiling… in an oh so familiar way, widening into a big grin.

His brows furrow under the helmet … it can’t be…

The breath gets caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat as he realises that … it‘s you. Truly. Real.

You are here. He freezes. Too stunned to move or speak.

But then realisation hits him like a slap. You are truly here. For him, for his win.

He jumps, out of joy, against the barrier, his hand sliding out of his mother’s hold who steps aside to make room for you.

You meet him halfway through his jump, your own feet leaving the ground, laughing through tears of pride and joy.

You reach up, grabbing his helmet and without much thought kiss the front of his helmet.

“Surprise,” you say breathlessly.

He pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground … and with strength that is beyond you, pulls you over the barrier.

The cheers around you fade into insignificance as you find yourself getting lost in his arms, his warm -hot- embrace, holding him tightly, body shaking with laughter and tears.

"You did it! You did it! You won!" you say over and over again, holding him tightly. So tightly that you can feel his own body shake as well, trembling beneath your hands.

"Congrats, my love," you breathe as you eventually leave his embrace, beaming up at him. "You really did it."

An equally big grin still adorns his face, as he leans down and says, voice full of love, "Best surprise ever.”

[missqhughes]

HATE TO WANT YOU | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x fem!reader

-> includes: smut with plot, dom!quinn, fingering, unprotected sex, sexual themes, use of y/n, intended lowercase, platonic fem!reader x luke & jack

-> IN WHICH: y/n loves her best friend luke with all her heart, but there’s one person she can’t stand; his brother. she can’t take it anymore; in a confrontation with quinn, he can’t help but drop his facade and give her everything he’s always wanted to.

-> sexxxxyyyy request anon thank you! i too want quinn to hate me and then fuck me senseless. drooling. love it as much as i do! mwah

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

this wasn’t y/n’s first summer with the hughes brothers.

and it wasn’t her first at the lake house.

ever since they bought it, she’d been there every summer since.

she loved the hughes family, especially her best friend luke. all of them treating her like their own, all except quinn.

and now she stood in the living room, leisurely on her phone, when a rough shoulder shoves past her,

“can you not stand in the middle of hallway? always in the fucking way…” quinn mumbled, ruffling his hair whilst disappearing into the pool room.

y/n scoffed, trying to appear unphased by quinn’s attitude.

quinn had it out for her for so long she couldn’t even remember a time he didn’t act like he hated her. shoving her roughly whenever they all would play together, putting spiders on her body in the summer when he knew she was afraid, and god, all his rude comments galore.

she shook out of her thoughts, making her way to luke’s room, knocking five times to signal to the other that it was them.

“come in!”

she didn’t bother creaking open the door, luke was sitting on his computer playing video games, her flinging herself onto his bed. y/n sighed, causing him to pause his focus and face her,

“what’s wrong? you never just dramatic sigh for nothing.”

she sat up, scrunching her nose before answering, “have you ever noticed… that like… do you think quinn hates me?”

luke gave her a look, “hates you? like genuinely?”

“yes.”

for some corrupt reason in her mind, he started laughing at her question,

“luke! it’s not funny! i’m being serious.”

luke held is stomach, his laughter dying down a bit, “he just treats you like a little sibling that’s all. plus why do you care what quinn thinks? you’ve never brought it up before.”

his words stirred in her brain. sure, she had never mentioned it, but deep down it bothered her and she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

because it was just plain rude?

because she couldn’t stand up for herself?

because she found quinn attractive?

thinking about it all made her chest feel weird.

“i don’t care. i mean, i guess i do, i don’t want my best friends brother to hate me for the rest of our lives,” y/n sighs, laying back down on luke’s messy sheets.

he removed his headset and sat next to her, patting her leg affectionately,

“dude you’re fine, i promise he doesn’t hate you, lighten up okay? you’re freaking me out,”

the two giggled softly at his comment, y/n feeling better with luke’s reassurance but not quite. nonetheless, she decided to ignore it.

“sorry, sorry, can’t be mopey here. let’s go down to the dock yeah?”

luke’s smile grew, “race you down there?” he lightly shoved her off his bed, out of his bedroom,

“i’ll beat you to it lukey!”

——————————————————————————

y/n did beat luke down to the dock, only to be met with quinn.

and only quinn.

not even picking up his head to look at her, quinn continued to scroll on his phone as y/n laid her towel down.

“y/n.”

“hello quinn.”

the awkward silence sat between them per usual when this sort of thing happened, when they were finally in a weird position of being alone together. y/n put her sunglasses on, feeling quinn’s glare branding her skin every time he looked at her.

in time to save her, luke ran down, towel and speaker in hand.

“damn it!” he huffed, completely out of breath and throwing his things down next to hers in defeat. she giggled, and saw quinn rolling his eyes out of the corner of hers.

quinn cleared his throat, getting up off the chair, “well now that the peace and quiet is gone, i’m going up. see you guys for dinner.” and with that, he disappeared up to the house.

luke waved off his brother, focused on his phone picking a song. y/n watched until she knew quinn was out of sight, then shoved luke hard in the shoulder,

“shit y/n, what the hell was that for?”

“i told you he hates me. he literally just went up as soon as i came down!”

“dude, he went up because he knew we’re gonna play music and you know how he is. seriously what’s up with you? you’re way too bothered by this.”

she rolled her eyes at him, not really being able to exactly articulate why she felt the way she did. at least not to him.

“i told you already i just don’t want him hating me for the rest of our lives,”

“want me to ask?”

y/n’s eyes widened, shoving luke once more, “no! that’s so embarrassing luke don’t,”

he shoved her back, “then YOU ask him, jesus! ask him after dinner or something,”

she laid on her side, facing him with contemplation in her eyes, he shrugged in response, “doesn’t hurt to say somethin,”

“okay fine, but if i’m totally right then i’m blaming you.”

after soaking up the hot summer sun, y/n and luke retreated back into the house. both exhausted, they parted their ways until dinner.

not another body was sighted in the house, and thinking quinn and jack went to the store, she went down to the kitchen to get a drink, restoring the energy the sun brought out of her.

she grabbed a coke from the fridge, hearing footsteps behind her she turned her head around, and there was quinn.

she all of a sudden felt very exposed in front of him her small bikini, especially alone in the kitchen. it’s different on the dock, you’re not supposed to be wearing barely nothing inside.

she turned her head back, hearing quinn let out a long exhale as he slipped past her, likely annoyed by just her simply being in his vicinity. the tension still stood thick between them, and in the discomfort y/n made a break for her room, not looking back.

——————————————————————————

she tried to get through dinner as normal, but y/n couldn’t control the bouncing in her leg, the anxiety of asking quinn the dreaded question manifesting through the rest of her body.

after everyone was done, her and luke stood beside each other doing dishes, him giving her a slight nudge when quinn left and settled with jack in the living room.

“so are you gonna say something?” he whispered, barely loud enough for her own ears to pick up,

“yeah i will, just not right now. not when there’s an audience,” she said wiping her hands, waiting for luke to finish up.

“you guys wanna watch a movie?” jack’s voice echoed,

“yeah we’re coming!” luke replied, waving her over to walk with him. they sat on the two available chairs, while jack and quinn occupied the couch.

jack had already picked something out, and even though it had just started, she felt eyes peering at her. y/n continued to look over at luke, who was focused on the screen, thinking it was him. she looked over at jack, who was in the same boat as his younger brother, then eventually landing at quinn.

his jaw ever so slightly squeezed tighter when her eyes met his, wandering his piercing eyes to the tv. she shuffled in the chair, attempting to mend the discomfort she felt.

——————————————————————————

with about an hour left of the movie, jack stretched, yawning as he sat up from the couch, “i’m gonna go to bed, i’m exhausted, night everyone,”

everyone said goodnight back as he left, leaving just the three of them behind.

this time, luke was looking over at y/n, and when her glance met his, she saw him looking at the situation in front of him, seeing the idea formulate in his head.

y/n looked at him with a pleading face, begging for him not to put the pressure on her right then and there, but he ignored,

“you guys can finish the movie without me, i’m lowkey really tired too.”

“luke,” y/n began, slightly weary,

“goodnight,” he said quickly, jogging to his bedroom, as fast and as least suspicious as possible. she fell back in the plush chair gently, avoiding even looking in quinn’s direction.

they sat there, she was sure neither of them were even watching, and decided that it was enough,

“can i ask you something?” she breathed out, feeling like the air from her lungs came with her words.

quinn turned his head to look at her, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, not expecting her to say anything,

“what?”

“why do you not like me?”

the questioned lingered in the air for far longer than she felt okay with. feeling frustrated, she got up, cursing at herself internally for even asking him such a question,

“wait,”

she doesn’t, instead marches straight to her room, not stopping when she hears footsteps behind her.

she gets halfway down the hallway just at the staircase before a gasp leaves y/n’s breath when she feels herself be spun around and pinned onto the wall.

quinn pins her by the hips, eyes staring deep into her own, an unreadable expression on his face.

“you didn’t let me finish.”

“then finish.” she spat back, done with his antics and still embarrassed about leaving her hanging in the living room.

“i was going to say i don’t hate you, before you ran away like a scared little kid.”

she scoffed, not believing a word he said when he just had to throw in an insult in.

“you really expect me to believe that? you’ve done nothing but torn into me since the day we’ve met. i don’t get it, i’ve done nothing to you quinn. nothing.”

he let her words soak into him, taking in all of herself in front of him, admiring it internally.

“it’s not you as a person i hate.” he said, the placement on her hips unwavering,

“so you do hate me,” she kissed her teeth, “then what is it quinn? what do you hate about me that isn’t just me?”

his breathing was hard yet steady, thinking over his next words,

“for one,”

his grip tightened,

“i hate that you’re talking back to me right now,”

y/n’s heart rate picked up,

“i hate how fucking hot you look when you dance around in practically nothing all day,”

his hands moved up slightly,

“i hate how much lukey loves you, how you’re all his and-”

“-luke and i will never be that,” she stopped him, not wanting him, or anyone for that matter, to think her and luke were anything more than friends.

“not what i meant. he gets to spend all this time with you, here there everywhere, and it makes me hate you.”

she felt her heartbeat everywhere in her body, ears hot and arousal seeping through her with his words.

y/n swallowed, “why does that make you hate me?” she whispered, falling into this version of quinn right before her eyes.

“because i hate that i want you, you of all people,” he said lowly, face moving close enough to where their breaths could mingle, crossing territories neither of them have dared to even look at with each other.

“if you don’t like this, tell me. if it’s too much, tell me to stop,” his hands felt around her waist, a different kind of tensions between them now, with only air and opportunity separating them.

“don’t, don’t stop,” she let out, closing her eyes in anticipation for him. and boy, did it come.

quinn’s lips hooked on to hers, primal and eager to explore her mouth. his lips spoke louder than his voice ever could.

y/n’s hands worked their way up from his shirt covered abs to his face, holding it in her hands while he kissed her in a way that told her it wasn’t just her lips he was going to be tasting.

he savored every time his teeth sunk into her plump bottom lip, gently tugging and feeling himself grow harder with the soft noises she let out whenever he did so.

quinn walked them to the couch, and he pulled away to push her down softly, y/n looking at up at him, needy and wanting more. he wasted no time in diving down to kiss her again, his hand finding its way down her shorts.

he smiled devilishly when he was met with a damp spot in her underwear, knowing she was fully soaked underneath,

“already fucking dripping for me huh? m’sure you’ve wanted this,” he mumbled against her lips, feeling her moan on his when he started rubbing her clit through her clothed core.

he pulled away, wanting to see how she looked withering under his teases. y/n’s bottom lip was between her teeth, one of her hands gripping onto quinn’s tshirt,

“mm, quinn, need your hands inside me,”

he knew it too, craving for his fingers to fuck her pussy and make a mess on his hand.

he peeled off her shorts, mouth almost watering seeing her pussy drip through her panties. he moved them to the side, running his ring and middle fingers between her folds before plunging them into her.

y/n covered her mouth, knowing the guttural moan that was going to escape her lips was uncontrollable. her back arched as he curled his fingers, using his thumb to circle her clit at a pace soon to send her over the edge.

her grip on his shirt caused her knuckles to turn white, and he felt her clench around his fingers, close to her release,

“yeah that’s it… cum for me, y/n,”

she panted, legs shaking slightly as the tightness in her stomach loosed, her juices glistening all over his hand as he pumped into her through her high.

quinn brought his hands up to lick his fingers, cleaning her off of them,

“you taste so fucking good, god i need you,”

y/n grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss, drunken off quinn making her cum so quick.

“fuck me, quinn hughes. fuck me like you hate me.”

those words were enough for him, effortlessly he threw her over his shoulder, grabbing her shorts and carrying her up towards his room, the one place in the house she had never been.

he put her down on his bed, y/n taking in every part of quinn’s room, a sight she had yet to look at.

he was sure as hell neater than luke, little canucks things here and there as well as small things he’s collected over the years. it was cute to her to see the difference in how he acted vs his safe space, even a small teddy bear resting on his dresser.

her mind went back to reality when she heard the door click, quinn turning back to crawl on top of her on his bed.

he slightly pushed her legs apart, y/n hooking them around his waist instinctively, his mouth trailing hot kisses down her jaw and neck.

y/n felt her core growing burning hot, squeezing her legs tight around his waist, desperate for friction on her core.

“you needy huh? turn around.”

y/n obliged, but not before taking off her shirt, whilst facing quinn, seeing his adam’s apple shift when she was left in just a bra and underwear.

she turned around, sticking her ass high in the air for him, quinn admiring her arch pulled her panties down her legs, a bead of arousal following with.

he couldn’t wait any longer, he stripped off all his layers of clothing, pumping his stiff dick leaking with precum before aligning himself with her.

at first he pumped slowly, just to get himself fully inside, but after that he slammed into her, erotic noises emitting from the muffled sheets whilst he fucked her senseless.

quinn groaned at the feeling of y/n around his dick, squeezing it perfectly every time he pounded her in just the right spot.

she gripped his sheets hard, feeling herself come undone underneath him, whimpering into the bed with pleasure.

quinn snaked his around her neck, pulling her up by it and fucking her harder,

“you like it— shit, when i fuck you like this?”

“fuck oh my god, yes quinn, mm,”

he pushed her back into the bed, his thrusts become sloppy and untamed, dick twitching as he let go inside of her, warm release coating the inside of her pussy.

quinn flipped her back over, kissing her cheek before collapsing next to her on the bed, both still buzzing from sex.

“quinn?”

“yeah?” he replied, still trying to catch the rhythm in his lungs,

“i don’t think you hate me anymore,” y/n said, breathlessly laughing as she closed her eyes, also trying to regain herself.

he chuckled softly, handing her clothes back to her before putting on his own.

“as much as i’d like you to stay,” he said, running a hand through his now messed up hair, “you should go back to your room, wouldn’t want lukey having a heart attack seeing you come out of my room in the morning huh?”

she shuddered at just the thought of it, “absolutely not,” she stood up, shaky legs carrying her to his door, quinn right behind,

“but between us, you’ll be back in here tomorrow night.”

——————————————————————————

© missqhughes

xoxo, kaia

[pedroscurls]

the first date (one-shot)

summary: hugh takes you out for your first date. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 1.2k warnings/tags: fluff, implied age gap (reader is 30, hugh is 55), teasing, brief sexual tension, brief jealous!hugh, no use of y/n. a/n: shout out to this anon for this request! i had so much fun writing this and tbh, it's the only way i can live out my fantasies lol 🙂‍↕️ as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

An hour into your date with Hugh and you can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at you from the rim of his glass. There had been an instant attraction you felt towards each other and this first date so far had been a dream. The age gap was a topic of conversation before you agreed on this date. You didn’t see a problem with the fact that he was old enough to be your father, but Hugh – well, it had taken quite a while for him to warm up to the idea of taking you out. 

He had tried to keep his distance, to be respectful, but after hearing you go on and on about a disaster of a date with another man, Hugh couldn’t hide his feelings for you anymore. The jealousy that he felt in the pit of his stomach lingered until he finally blurted out that he wanted to take you out on a real date. 

You were surprised, uncertain if he was just saying that because he felt bad or if he really did feel the same way you did. But you never asked. Instead, you agreed on going on a date with Hugh. 

And now, from the way he’s looking at you, you know that the feelings you have for him aren't just one-sided. You both still have to maintain some boundary, especially with Hugh being so well known in the public eye. Even after his divorce, he had been careful about who he wanted to be seen with. 

But with you? Well, with you, he didn’t care. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you finally ask him, brow arching upwards. 

“Like what?” 

“You know what.”

“I don’t,” he grins, setting his glass back down on the table. “Are you having a good time?”

You bite your lower lip and nod. “The best time, actually. Who knew these are what dates are supposed to be like?” 

Hugh laughs quietly and leans back against his seat, staring at you from across the small table. When he had picked you up that evening, you took his breath away. The black mid-length dress you were wearing clung to every curve – it was modest and elegant, but when you walked, the front side split showcased your leg and all he wanted to do was run his hands along you. 

Even now, Hugh can’t help but glance down at the exposed skin on your upper thigh when you cross your leg over the other. In the dim lighting, Hugh can see you so clearly. No one else in this restaurant mattered, the sound of chatter fading in the background until all he could focus on was you. 

“You’ve been going out with boys,” Hugh teases. “They don’t know a thing about taking a woman out on a proper date.” 

You roll your eyes. “Psh, boys,” you repeat. “At least the night ended with–”

“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence,” he growls. Hugh moves his seat next to yours as he drapes his arm on the back of your chair until he’s leaning into your personal space. He shuts his eyes and brushes his nose against your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo mixed in with your perfume. 

“Why not?” you ask teasingly, heart racing.

“Because I don’t wanna hear about it.” Hugh whispers, voice low and so dangerously close to your ear. “Besides, I doubt those boys treated you right.”

“How would you know, hm?” 

“Let me guess,” he continues, the hand on the back of your chair slowly moving to graze your upper arm. “Did you even get to come, baby? With those boys, did they make sure you were taken care of first?”

You feel the heat settle between your legs and you shift in your seat at his words. “I– uh…”

“You what?” Hugh leans in, brushes his lips against your earlobe. “Tell me. If your dates were always so shitty, did you at least get to come?” 

“Yes,” you lie. 

Hugh pulls away as if he can sense the dishonesty in your voice. He looks down at you, glancing between your eyes and down to your lips and back up. Then, he just grins and it irks you because you know that he caught onto your lie. And he’s fucking smug about it too. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” you tell him, bringing your hand up to tuck your hair away from your face and behind your ear. You clear your throat, leaning slightly back against the seat as you suddenly feel hot. Under Hugh’s gaze, you can feel the tension radiating between the both of you. Lingering in the air. 

“What a shame,” he ignores you. “Shitty dates and an even shittier way to end your nights.” 

“I manage just fine, thank you very much.” 

“Oh yeah? And how’s that?” 

You lift your hand and wiggle your fingers in a suggestive manner. You see his eyes narrow down at you and you know what he’s thinking, know where his mind had drifted off to. And now, it’s your turn to be smug. 

“Exactly,” you tell him. “Now, can we go and get dessert?” 

Hugh grins and then nods in your direction. “Whatever you want, baby.”

—

“It’s cold outside, I’ve given you my jacket, and now you’re eating ice cream,” Hugh points out, walking alongside you. 

You nod and grin up at him, gently nudging him with your shoulder. You feel warm and safe in his jacket and even though it’s well into nighttime, it feels oddly calming to walk the park without any distractions, illuminated by the city’s lights. 

“There is always a time for ice cream,” you giggle. 

Hugh smiles to himself and then wraps his arm around you, pulling you to his side as you both continue walking. He kisses the crown of your head as he thinks to himself. Hugh likes you, a lot, and your presence alone puts him at ease. 

“Want some?” you ask, lifting the small plastic spoon up in his direction. You’re gazing up at him with a hopeful glint in your eye and Hugh just smiles. He leans in and takes the spoonful of vanilla ice cream in his mouth and pulls away, seeing your eyes gaze down at his lips. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

You and Hugh continue to walk until you both hear the sound of quiet music in the park. You both walk towards it, noticing a man playing the guitar. You can see his eyes widen when he registers that you’re with Hugh Jackman, but Hugh just nods in his direction, drops some money in the guitar case before he turns his attention to you. 

“What?” you ask, tossing the small empty cup of ice cream at a nearby trash can. 

“Dance with me?” He extends a hand out for you and smiles in your direction. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely…” you take his hand and feel him pull you to him. You rest your free hand on his shoulder as he brings your joined hands to his chest, his free hand moving to rest on your lower back. Both of you sway to the sound of the music, eyes locked with each other’s, and it feels like it’s only the two of you in this world. 

Hugh leans in, resting his forehead against yours as he keeps his eyes locked with yours. “It’s been the best night,” he whispers. 

“Does it have to end?” you ask hesitantly. 

You can see the recognition flicker in his eyes, the familiarity of what you’re implying. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Take me back to your place?” 

“I thought you’d never ask, baby," he grins and leans in to press his lips against yours for the first time that night.

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[stilljuststardust]

Hey so why aren't tefs allowed in the shifting community?

Why can't people have their own opinions about something and move on? You don't have the right to tell other people that they can't be a shifter just because they believe in something you don't like.

That's like telling a Christian that they can't be a shifter because they believe in God... What about the homophobic Christians? What about the non Christian s the tefs you talk about? Anyone can be a shifter regardless of belief ,race, gender and sexuality. Let people have their beliefs! Let people live! That doesn't make them A bad person unless they voluntarily do things that are bad if yk what I mean..

The shifting community should be about shifting why are u bloggers stressing over others people s opinions/beliefs 🤦 we should be respectful to each other no matter what we believe in. Anything is possible with shifting therefore all beliefs are valid. I saw sheezu a blogger shifter, and it always seems like they

Continuously write with people who aren't on the same page as them its really annoying and stupid. like bruh why do u care so much bro? Your supposed to be a shifter helping other people correcting misinformation and allat. But instead they continue to argue about things i don't give a f#ck about?

Stop this madness! from anon 😎

If you want tolerance so badly, how about you tolerate my boot up your ass

I will NOT sit here and debate about something that literally boils down to "if tolerant left,🤔 why no like bigot? 🤔"

If you're silent about transphobia but can speak up to defend bigots, remember to wipe the cum off your mouth when you're done. You're pathetic.

⚠️This blog PROUDLY discriminates against transphobes, racists, homophobes, misogynists and other such people.⚠️

[starkwlkr]

heyy, can i request number 6 with lando norris? (also, can you make it with older sister!reader?) ps, i love your work sm!!

an: anon you’re breaking my heart here!! As an older sister (middle child lol) that line hit me so hard and thank you for the support!! hope you like it <3

jen’s marvel series

“I just wanted to be like you” “and I wanted you to be better”

It was past midnight when the doorbell rang.

You startled from the couch, your husband already half-asleep beside you. The baby monitor on the table showed your daughter peacefully curled in her crib. You glanced at the time—1:17 a.m.

Your stomach dropped. There was only one person who would show up this late. You opened the door to find Lando standing there, swaying slightly, the smell of alcohol clinging to him like sweat.

“Heyyyy,” he grinned, voice slurred. “Sis.”

You stepped aside. “Lando, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Came to see you,” he said, stumbling in. “Missed you.”

“You’re drunk,” you said flatly, shutting the door.

“I’m not that drunk,” he said, knocking into the console table and barely catching the vase before it shattered. “Can a drunk person do that?”

You exhaled sharply. “Christ. You said you were taking a break from partying.”

“I said maybe,” he shot back, slumping onto your couch. “God, you sound just like Mum.”

“Someone has to,” you snapped. “Because she’s not here to watch you throw everything away.”

He flinched. “I’m not throwing anything away.”

You crossed your arms, the tension boiling in your chest. “You’re out every night. You’re showing up hungover to lunch with us. Do you know how many calls I’ve gotten from people who are worried about you?”

“Oh, so now you’re the responsible one?” Lando laughed bitterly. “That’s rich.”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act like you’re so put together,” he spat. “Like you’ve never made mistakes.”

“I learned from mine, Lando. That’s the difference.”

He stood, pacing now, agitated. “I just wanted to be like you, okay?”

His words cracked the air like lightning. You froze.

“I grew up watching you handle everything,” he continued, louder now. “Racing, pressure, school, Mum, Dad. You made it all look easy. You were perfect. And I just—I wanted to be like you.”

Your chest ached as you looked at your little brother—messy, lost, trying to be something he didn’t know how to name.

“And I wanted you to be better,” you whispered.

His head jerked toward you, stunned.

“I never wanted you to feel like you had to be me,” you said. “I wanted you to surpass me. Be happier. Be healthier. Have a life that didn’t eat you alive.”

Upstairs, a soft cry echoed through the baby monitor.

Lando blinked, then turned toward it, guilt flickering across his face. “I woke her?”

You didn’t answer. You just walked past him and up the stairs, leaving him alone in the quiet. When you returned a few minutes later, he was sitting on the floor by the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“I’m tired,” he said softly.

“I know,” you replied, kneeling next to him. “But you can’t keep doing this.”

He nodded.

You rested your head lightly against his shoulder. “Come back in the morning. I’ll make you breakfast. We can talk properly.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

[zepskies]

UNRAVEL ME - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Afro-Latina!Reader

Summary: In the wake of Vought Tower finally falling, you find yourself crossing paths with Soldier Boy. Rogue, weakened, dangerous, and hunted, he needs a place to hide. You’re not about to offer up your own home to shelter a supe wanted by Homelander and the CIA…but he’s also not going to let you refuse.

AN: Finallyyyyy lol. I know I've been talking about this series for months now, but it was genuinely challenging for me to write this prequel for Lost in Translation (which was requested by various Tumblr friends and anons who wanted to see Soldier Boy matched with a woman of color). I think maybe it's because this is now my third Soldier Boy series, and getting this guy to show character growth is hard to do three different times. 🤣 But let's see how it goes with another post-season 3 misadventure! 💜💙 This series also fulfills a hilarious prompt for @jacklesversebingo!

Song Inspo: “Unravel Me” by Sabrina Claudio

JVB Prompt: Accidental Old Person Acquisition

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, threats, SB being his typical asshole self, obnoxious flirting, racial elements, Ben drinks Cuban coffee, among other ethnic mini adventures in the future. The reader is a mixed-race Afro-Latina with textured hair. 

💜 Series Masterlist

💙 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Hot Tamale

Vought Tower is falling.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like: the ground trembling like a Magnitude 7 earthquake, overhead lights flickering, a line of rubble falling on your head as you finally manage to squeeze out of the stairwell and into the main floor's reception area. You take in a large gulp of air, breathing past the oppressive clog of warm bodies, sweat, fear, and a hint of piss.

The walls quake along with the tile floor; you spill onto it hard, hitting your knees, though you curl your fingers fast when a woman from Legal almost steps on them in her dagger heels. Fuck!

Fear and adrenaline compel you to scramble onto your feet and claw your way through the gift shop. Maybe you'll be able to cut through the aisles of overpriced Starlight plushies and Special Edition Black Noir Funko Pops to get to one of the east exits.

It's Vought’s very own 9/11. You were told to evacuate over the intercom, and now you're about to find out why.

It’s taken over an hour to try and escape. You’re still trapped in the building, obviously, caught up in the lobby. It's backed up by the clusterfuck of people squeezing themselves through the narrow exit doorways to the garage, like rats clamoring over one another to avoid extermination. Somehow they've broken through the glass to override the security protocols that had first tried to lock you all in.

Just when you make it past the display of red, white, and blue Homelander mugs, a blinding light catches your eye through the tall windows and the growing darkness of the evening. The light falls and falls, what looks like a tangled ball of red and orange and green.

It explodes into the ground, shaking the very foundations of New York City. You cling to the display table and manage to dive underneath it.

You hide there until the shaking stops.

Tears sting in your eyes as the unsteady screams of your coworkers ring out in the lobby, even though you don’t recognize most of them. You suddenly remember your boss; you lost sight of him on the way down the first five flights of stairs. You morbidly wonder if he was one of the ones who got trampled along the way, or blown off the side of the building in the crash.

When the outside world is quiet again, you crawl out from underneath the table. Everyone who still can is slowly getting to their feet, picking themselves up, some of them helping the people closest to them. You don’t know what the hell is happening, but you have a strong feeling Homelander is involved. He’s been playing at CEO for weeks, now that Stan Edgar has been deposed.

Instead of leaving out the front, you continue your plan of going through one of the east side exits. There’s a narrow alley that leads to the garage farther down. You step out into the evening light, made darker in the alley behind what’s left of the Tower. You know the metal door to the garage isn’t too far away, but before you can get to it, you see a man stumbling right toward you.

It's too dark to see him clearly, and even though you back up a couple of steps, the green of his uniform captures your attention.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. “Soldier Boy?”

He glances up at you through furrowed brows. The state of him, ragged and soot-stained, his labored breaths, and the way he’s leaning against the wall—it all tells you that he’s been through some major shit.

“Uh, a-are you okay?” you ask shakily, clutching your messenger bag.

“I’m fine,” he says, though his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes your spine prickle with unease.

In record time, your brain collects what little you know about the ancient relic of a supe that’s mere steps away from invading your personal space. Homelander has been calling him a rogue in the press, but even though your role at Vought barely makes you a blip on anyone’s radar, you know enough about what really holds the company together…which means you know better than to believe even one iota of what that star-spangled prick told the public. 

Your gaze flits over Soldier Boy, now with some concern despite your wariness.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I said I’m fucking fine. Do I look fucking hurt?” he growls tiredly. When he tries to stand a bit straighter, he almost stumbles against the wall.

Part of you twinges with sympathy, but still, your lips purse at his attitude.

“Dude, you don’t want me to tell you what you look like,” you say.

His eyebrow twitches. He opens his mouth to retort, but that’s when a man’s voice can be heard nearby. You turn your head at the sound.

While you’re distracted, Soldier Boy grabs you with more strength than you anticipated and drags you along with him against the wall. You gasp, but he holds a dirty half-gloved hand over your mouth.

Voices begin to echo from down the other end of the alley, closer to the main road. The supe has already turned his head in that direction, but your gaze flicks there next, your eyes wide and fearful.

“I don’t need a fuckin’ doctor,” says a man. His accent is thick as hell, like a Mary Poppins chimney sweep. Cockney? He’s tall, wearing a long black coat to match his black hair. He’s also arguing with a black man and a skinny white guy. A couple of ambulances zoom by, for a moment overtaking their voices and casting their bodies in the red glow of the siren alarms.

“Considering you coughed up blood on my fucking shoes, I’m dumping you off at the nearest hospital within a mile, and then you lose my number for good. Got that, motherfucker?” says the black man. He’s just as intimidating as the other guy, if not more so, considering the way the Brit's leaning against the wall like he might keel over right there.

The skinny guy breaks the tension between them. “Look, we should go. Annie’s got Maeve, and Homelander could be circling the sky looking for us right now.”

Queen Maeve? What happened to her? She was supposed to be in rehab. Who's Annie? Oh shit. Annie January. Starlight broke Maeve out? No. I should've known that rehab story was bullshit too. Who fucking knows what actually happened there. More importantly, what's happening here?!

Your thoughts tumble into one another while your heartbeat pounds in your ears. Your breathing comes out shallower through your nose, considering the big meaty hand covering your mouth.

If Homelander's looking for these guys, then none of this little scene is good. It makes you a fucking witness. Shit...

Soldier Boy tightens his hold on your arm. Slow and quiet, he opens the door to the parking garage with his elbow, since his other hand is still locked over your mouth. He guides you in. 

“Don’t scream, or I’ll start squeezing,” he warns. At least he releases his hand from your mouth, instead, grabbing the back of your neck. “Where’s your car?” 

“Wait, come on,” you plead, your voice shaking. “Whatever you did, I don’t want to know, but I didn’t sign up to be your getaway driver.” 

Ben’s grip tightens a fraction. “All I need is a fucking ride. That isn’t too much to ask, now is it, sweetheart?”

“Depends on where you’re trying to go,” you say. But you decide that not getting snapped in half is good enough reason to lead him to your car. You rarely have cause to drive it, so it mostly just stays parked here in the garage. For once, you’re grateful that you shell out a portion of your monthly paycheck to reserve this space. 

You fish your keys out of your car and unlock the door with shaky hands. Soldier Boy watches you press the button on the small key remote with furrowed brows, but he takes it from you after forcing you in the driver’s seat, so he can enter the car on the passenger side.

The second your tiny blue Kia rumbles pitifully to life, your music blares loud enough to feel the bass in the floor. Soldier Boy smacks the radio buttons roughly until it stops.

You give him a thin smile. 

“Not a fan of Bad Bunny?” you ask.

Irritated, he grabs a hold of the small plushie swinging from your rearview mirror. He yanks it off despite your protest, nearly breaking the mirror, and stares in gruff bewilderment at the white fluffy heart. It has a Dominican flag embroidered on the front and a Cuban flag on the back—custom made on Etsy.

The supe raises a brow, but he dismissively tosses it somewhere in the back seat. When you look at his grumpy face, he just reminds you of Oscar the Grouch. He reaches down and shifts the seat back, but he barely has any leg room for those thunder thighs and combat boots.

“Just fucking drive,” he says, his voice like sharp gravel.

Again, your annoyance sparks at his rudeness. Are all supes assholes, or is it just the ones you’re forced to interact with?

“Okay, but where the hell do you want me to take you?” you ask. “The subway? The airport? The Hudson River? What?”

He thinks about it, drumming his fingers against his leg. His uniform is a bit poppier than military green, yet more classic than Homelander’s with the stretch of that silver-plated eagle across the chest. 

“Too many eyes at the airport. I need to lie low for a while before I get outta dodge,” Soldier Boy admits. Then he sits back in your passenger seat, adjusting the recline until his broad frame is below the view of the window. You think it’s both for his own comfort and so he’s less likely to be seen. 

“Your place should be all right,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Are you for real?” 

He just gives you a stern look. He’s not fucking kidding.

“Look, you may be a superhero and all, but I don’t fucking know you! And…” Just then, clarity strikes you as you remember what’s been going on in the news for the past week. “Didn’t, uh, didn’t you…blow up a building in Midtown?”

He doesn’t seem to want to answer at first, leveling you with that stoic, bearded face. His gaze eventually drifts away from yours. 

“That was an accident.” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “That’s a pretty big accident.”

Again, Soldier Boy doesn’t answer you. You try to focus on the road, but it’s pretty impossible when you have a supe that’s supposedly risen from the dead in your passenger seat, who also exploded 19 people on accident, who tried and failed to kill Homelander.

Speaking of, Homelander himself is looking for this guy…which means you’re helping a fugitive escape. What’s worse, he wants to crash on your goddamn couch.

One of your hands leaves the steering wheel to cover your mouth. You press your hand there until the mix-match of gold and silver rings start to bite into the sensitive flesh of your lower lip. 

“Coño su madre,” you mutter the curse under your breath. I’m so fucking screwed.  

You unlock the door to your third-floor apartment with a heavy sigh. As usual, it gets stuck the first time you try to swing it open. You throw a little more strength in your arm the second time, and the door finally budges. 

You flick the lights on inside and unveil the shoebox that is your home. It’s barely a one-bedroom. The open kitchen lies to the right with a small two-seater table nestled against the wall, while the “living room” lies to the left. There you managed to fit a faded violet loveseat couch from your college days, a bookshelf from Goodwill, and your TV perched on what’s supposed to be a coffee table.

Straight ahead is a narrow hall that leads to your bedroom door on the right side and the one and only bathroom on the other. 

Well, this is gonna be fun. Slumber party with America’s Most Wanted, you think, with no small amount of Jesus fucking Christ weighing your steps.

Soldier Boy’s broad shoulders barely clear the open doorway. He shuts and locks the door behind him and takes stock of your apartment with a slow turn of his head. He doesn’t seem impressed, except for the paintings, funky ‘60s style shelves, and other canvases decorating the walls.

“You some kind of artist?” he asks, giving a cursory glance to each one.

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” you nod. “But most of these aren’t mine.”

On every wall, there’s a cluster of art, from canvases to pottery, glass, burnished clay, and brass. There are replicas of paintings by Salvador Dalí and Frida Kahlo, Picasso and Basquiat, Monet and Amelia Peláez, even a sculpture of a woman that you tried to replicate from Ana Mendieta. It’s meant to represent the suffering of women. Hell if today doesn’t qualify.

You toss your messenger bag onto the couch and throw up your arms at your sides.

“Well, since the police, Homelander, and probably the rest of the government are looking for you, you should do the whole ‘get outta dodge’ thing in the morning,” you say. You clasp your hands together in the facsimile of a prayer and politeness all in one. “But if you really wanna spend a night on my couch, then that’s okay.”

We’ll get through this. Just one night of insanity and then this’ll all be over. 

“That bed looks big enough for two,” the supe says. He nods at your open bedroom door and smiles suggestively, his gaze roaming over your form.

You get that shiver down your spine again, even as you blush. You take a pointed step away from him.

“Uh, how about fucking no,” you snap. “That door will be locked, and I have a taser that I’m not afraid to use on any tender bits.”

He raises a brow at you, but he snorts. He steps toward you, his gait slow and arrogant. You cross your arms while he closes the distance, his hair falling forward across his forehead as he stares down at you with a hint of a sneer. His chin and forehead are still stained with grime, just as his red gloves are scuffed and half burnt from whatever happened in that blast.

Your heart trips up faster. A tremble of fear runs through you, but you refuse to move.

“You do realize that that’s tantamount to flicking me with a rubber band,” he says. His half-lidded gaze runs over you with a note of interest. The corner of his mouth raises in a smirk. “Besides, whatever we might get up to, I can guarantee you’ll enjoy it. Just ask Loni Anderson. Farrah Fawcett. Hell, Molly Ringwald. Love me a fuckin’ redhead once in a while.”

You give him a look that could (proverbially) crumble Empire State.

“Don’t fucking bet on it,” you say.

Yes, your voice is quiet. Yes, you have to work past a swallow. But you don’t ever drop your gaze. You meet him head-on with every bit of stubborn fire you have left inside you.

“If you touch me, I’ll scream," you say, a wary trembling in your chest. "Even if you kill me, they’ll find you that much quicker.”

His smirk falls away. His gaze roams over you again, this time in a different way. Maybe he sees the way your entire body is tense, locked up tight, prepared to recoil and scream if he tries to grab at you. He relents.

“Christ, relax. It’s your fucking loss anyway, sweetheart.” His eyes roll dismissively as he turns away from you. “I need a shower.”

He strides down the hall in search of it. You move quickly to get ahead of him. The last thing you need is him rifling through your bedroom drawers.

“Ah, wait! I’ll get you a towel,” you say. It irritates you to have to treat him like a “guest,” but you don’t know what else to do. The man can literally snap your neck. Even for that big ass bluff you just pulled, you really, really don’t want to die.

You could try calling the police while he’s in the shower, but you don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out. And who’s gonna be quicker on the draw—the human police force, or the literal super soldier?

No, it’ll be more painless to just wait this guy out and see him off in the morning. For now, he doesn’t seem inclined to hurt you. He even took a rejection of you “sleeping” with him pretty well, for a supe. They tend to think they're God’s gifts to humanity. Working at Vought, you’ve been propositioned more than enough times. Though God forbid you say no for a ride on their magical dick. You’d rather not jump on that potential steel trap. You know a guy in Marketing who had his happy place literally frozen and chipped off.

After finding a fresh towel for Soldier Boy, he shuts himself in the lone bathroom across from your room. Soon, the old pipes roar to life. You retreat into your room for a long, slow breath. It’s less steadying than you’d hoped.

You also shut and lock the bedroom door behind you, for whatever good that might do you. 

Not much, you realize warily. 

You sink your fingers into your hair and blow out a sigh of frustration. What even is my fucking life right now?

Tugging on the knotted curls, you loosen them from the bun you wrapped tightly this morning. For all Vought claimed to care about diversity, your boss once commented on your “wild” hair shedding on the tile floor. 

Taking in a few deep, yoga-style breaths before you lose your shit, you dig into the recesses of your closet and dresser drawers. Your most recent ex had left at least one shirt, maybe a pair of boxers. Soldier Boy will have to make do with your favorite sweatpants. They’re stretched out enough from years of wear and washes that they’ll probably fit him. 

Juuuuust great. You're really contemplating this asshole wearing your clothes.

By the time you gather your bearings, shove your soul back into your body and leave your room, Soldier Boy is exiting the bathroom, the fluffy purple towel slung low around his hips. 

“Jesus!” You jolt and instinctively step back. There’s nowhere far to go in the hallway, so your ass ends up bumping against the hollow wall. 

Once again, he wears a smug sort of smile as he stares down at you in amusement. 

“Like what you see, huh, baby doll?”

“Put your tits away, please,” you snap, handing him the bundle of clothing while trying not to look at him directly. You can’t help glancing at his muscular frame out of the corner of your eye. 

Good lord, it’s like he was chiseled from marble. Make that marble with a golden tan, and a patch of hair across his chest that you could run your nails through.

His lips curve with a cockier smile. You quickly look away.

Great. He caught you ogling for one tiny second. And with that moment of human weakness, all that strong talk you accomplished earlier had probably just withered away into nothing. Is he going to take that as an invitation to slide into bed with you tonight while you’re trying to sleep?

Yeeeah. Who the hell are you kidding? You’re going to tape your own eyes open if you have to, but you’re not dropping your guard around this guy. He doesn’t seem to actually want to hurt you. He wants to use you for convenience’s sake. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s dangerous, hunted, arrogant as fuck, and weirdly horny for a guy who just threw himself off a building.

Subtly clearing your throat, you move past him to the living room. There you set up the couch for him to sleep on. He ventures back into the bathroom to get dressed, which gives you a small break. You’re mentally counting the seconds. 

He comes back somewhat fully dressed. The shirt is a bit small for him, as are the boxer shorts. 

“Christ, who did this belong to, a fucking eunuch?” Soldier Boy asks. “Tell me you’ve got a brother. Because if this was your boyfriend’s, then he wasn’t doing shit for you, sweetheart.”

You begin to blush on reflex, shooting him a steely glare. Those clothes did belong to your ex, but that’s none of his damn business. 

“As promised, here’s the couch,” you gesture to the neatly fitted sheets, blankets, and even a fluffy(ish) pillow you so generously laid out for him. “Again, I will be locking my bedroom door, and if you make even a step in that direction, prepare to get tased in the dick. It’s already set on the max setting.”

Soldier Boy smirks. You fail to see how what you’ve said is in any way funny. You’re definitely not laughing, but you do blink in surprise when he takes your hand and brings the back of it to his lips for a kiss. His beard briefly rasps against your skin. He looks down at you, meeting your eyes with his own. The green in them makes you falter. 

“Believe it or not, I appreciate the help,” he says, turning on the charm. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Your lips purse. Does he really think hitting you with that Brad Pitt tone of voice is going to work on you? He fucking kidnapped you, and not to mention, is currently holding you on house arrest.

“Oh, now you want to know my name? After conning me into being your Uber driver and your Airbnb in one?” You try to slip your hand out of his, but his grip tightens. He’s still smiling, amused by your struggle. 

“Come on, what’s your name?” he cajoles.

You sigh. Despite your better judgment, you give it to him begrudgingly.

"What's yours?" you ask, mostly drenched in sarcasm. Though a small part of you is...curious.

He stares back at you for a moment, something almost like surprise flicking through his gaze. His lips twitch at the corners, wry and humorless.

"Ben," he says, finally letting go of your hand.

“Okay, cool. So nice to meet you, uh, Ben," you reply, gesturing at his overall form. You still can't believe he's standing here like an iron lamppost in your living room. Are you about to step into the portal to Narnia now and continue this fever dream, or fall straight down to hell?

"All right, mind if I go now?" you say, crossing your arms as the snark escapes its cage. "I’ve had a bitch of a day and I need my beauty sleep."

Ben raises a brow.

Shit. You bite your lip.

Okay, you know you’re being a bit too hostile to a man who can all too easily snap you in half, but he’s got this way of pushing every single one of your buttons at once. Not in a good way. In the wish I could fucking scratch your eyes out kind of a way.

You're frankly lucky that Soldier Boy just seems amused by your attitude. Silly woman with her silly fits of belligerence.

His green-eyed gaze slides from the curve of your jean-clad thighs to your hips, over your breasts concealed by a red blouse, and finally up to your chin, your lips, your eyes. You can’t help the way your skin tingles at his scrutiny, even as you frown.

“From where I’m standing, sleep isn’t what you need,” he says. He somehow manages to sound both flattering and suggestive. 

Your face flares hotter, and your lips press tightly together.

“Sweet dreams, Soldier Boy,” you say, somewhat sarcastically as you head back to your room. You intend to grab your pajamas and take them with you into the bathroom. You’re going to have to bring your taser and lock yourself in there for a shower, even with the obvious safety hazard. What-fucking-ever at this point, as long as it keeps out Hungry Like the Wolf out there. But his reply makes you pause. 

He snorts. “Good night, sweetheart.” 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He spares you one final look, less arrogant and more taciturn, before he turns away and lowers himself down onto the couch.

You sigh, but you can’t help peeking around the corner at the supe sitting in your living room. His broad frame takes up the entire center of the little couch. You’re not all that sure he’s going to be comfortable there, since his long legs are definitely not going to fit across the loveseat, but he’s going to have to deal with it until tomorrow. 

You watch him rest his elbows above his knees and blow out a long, tired breath. He raises a hand to rub between his furrowed brows. For a long beat, he just stares vacantly at the floor between his knees. 

Then he leans back against the couch, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes. He seems…lost. Exhausted.

You wonder if he has anyone in his life worth getting back to. Anyone at all.

Shaking your head, you quietly make your way back to your room.

Ben finds himself watching you the next morning. He sits at the two-seater table while you putter about in the kitchen.

You’re cute, he has to admit, all sleepy and barely awake as you slide around in your fuzzy red slippers. A large Knicks shirt hangs off your body, exposing one smooth shoulder. Your sweatpants are overlarge as well, which only makes him think about the generous curves you’ve got hiding underneath. He took notice yesterday. You had a lot to work with under that little blouse, jeans, and chunky heels.   

Yesterday you were put together, even though you’d clearly had a rough time escaping the Tower. Today you've slunk out of your room with baggy pajamas, your hair a mess of curls running down your back. 

“Want a cafecito?” you ask.

Ben raises a brow. “If you mean coffee, then that’d be good. Something hot to eat would be even better.”

“First of all, this isn’t a bed and breakfast,” you say, turning to him with an edge to your voice. “Look, I’m exhausted. There’s a bakery down the street. I can pick something up.” 

As a matter of fact, your favorite Colombian bakery is right around the corner. You start thinking about all the pastries you’re going to treat yourself with, even though it does make you miss the Cuban bakeries back home. You would absolutely kill for an empanada with guava and cheese right now. 

Instead of cold-blooded murder, you set the tiny espresso cup of coffee in front of Ben. His face shifts to confusion and bewilderment. 

“I asked for a cup of coffee, black, not this baby doll tea set cup of coffee,” he says. 

“It’s a Cuban espresso,” you inform him. “And believe me, you don’t want it any bigger than that.”

Unless he just wants to spend the rest of the day on the toilet. Maybe he needs to clean out his system. 

“Just try it,” you encourage. “I think you’ll like it.” 

He eyes you with skepticism, but he takes a sip.

It’s sweet, but the rich, robust taste hits him between the eyes. His brows raise high.

“Okay,” he says with a growing smile. “I see what you mean.”

“See? Now you don’t gotta doubt me again,” you nod. He watches you pour one for yourself, stirring in a frankly alarming spoonful of sugar. 

“Where are you from, exactly?” he asks. 

You glance over at him, taking issue with the way he asks the question. 

“New York,” you respond tartly. You're really from Miami, but he doesn't need to know that.

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. What are you, Mexican or something?”

You raise a brow, your lips pursing when he begins to smirk.  

“I do like me a juicy taco,” he says. 

His slutty grin is too much for you. Your hand tightens around your coffee cup.

“Okay, a lot to unpack there, Romeo, but no. Not all of us are Mexican!” 

“All right. Calm down, Chiquita. You should take it as a fucking compliment,” he says. He raises a brow at you. “You’re a real spicy one, aren’t you?”

You gape incredulously. “Excuse me?” 

Chiquita?! What the hell is that? Is he saying you look like a goddamn banana, or does he actually know a few words in Spanish? Is he actually calling you a little girl? And for the cherry on top, did he really just call you spicy?!

Either way, he’s about to get slapped across his pig-man mouth. 

“I’ve gotten with a few Latinas in my time,” he says as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as his thighs splay out a little wider in the sweatpants you let him borrow. “Always with that fuckin’ feisty little temper. But you know what, I got no problem with a hot tamale.” 

“Oooh.” The sound is pure and unadulterated FED UP. You down your espresso like a shot. You’re already contemplating another dose, because you don’t have the energy for this.

But you’re also reminded then, that this man came to fame in the 1940s. He was born, what, before the damn Dust Bowl and the Great Depression? He’s literally an ancient relic, a walking black and white billboard of tóxico, and he acts like one too. 

You fairly slam your ceramic cup on the dining table as you slide into the seat across from him. 

“Just so we don’t have any more conversations like this in the future, here it goes,” you say with a sharp sigh. “My mom is Cuban. My dad is black and Dominican. I’m as mixed as it gets, but I’m in no way spicy. If you’ve got me mad fucking tight right now, it’s because you clearly have no idea what decade you’re in.”

Your insult strikes a nerve, making his eyebrow twitch. Soon, however, his lips curve. 

“I’ve got you tight, huh?” he says, cocking his head. A lock of his hair falls roguishly across his brow. “Gotta say, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had that effect on a woman.” 

You freeze, another hot blush burning in your cheeks. You can feel it making its way down your neck. “That’s…that’s not what you think it means.”

His lazy, arrogant, salacious smirk really makes you want to slap him, but you have a feeling that it’ll hurt you way more than it would hurt him. You get up from the table and ignore the loud scrape of the chair on tile.

“You know what? Forget it! I’m hungry. Don’t follow me.”

You go back to your room and lock the door behind you. You come back out a few minutes later dressed in what he thinks is your way of teasing him—in some ass-hugging jeans and a shirt that clings to your form. Ben watches you cross the room, smiling at the way you give him some narrowed side-eye while twisting your hair up into a wild ponytail. It’s a simple thing women do that’s always attracted him for some reason.

He also likes the shade of red you painted on your lips. 

“You are a feisty little thing,” he remarks, sipping his espresso. “Can’t say I mind.”

“Good. Stay here,” you hotly retort. Or better yet, get the FUCK out of my apartment.

You don’t say that last bit out loud, but he can read it loud and clear in your eyes, filled with that Latina fire. He remembers it all too well.

He grabs your wrist before you slip by him though. He hears the way your breath hitches, your gaze snapping down to meet his. You manage to hide most of your fear.

Maybe it makes some part of him twinge, deep down. You don’t know that he mostly finds you amusing. That he’d rather not hurt you, considering you don’t pose even one fraction of a threat to him. That like it or not, he needs to stay in your rathole apartment until he can figure out how to get out of the city unseen, let alone out of the country.

“You think I’m fucking stupid?” he asks.

You say nothing, but the look on your face tells him what you want to say. His eyes narrow.

“You’re not leaving,” he says.

“Well, I’m not cooking,” you counter. “There’s nothing to cook—”

“Order a damn delivery.”

“You know how expensive that is? Between delivery fee and tipping nowadays, Doordash charges a whole other meal on top of the meal! UberEats isn’t much better. Plus, none of the good places around here deliver like that. Not for breakfast at least. And anyway, I really need to go grocery shopping. What do you expect me to do, open a can of tuna and a jar of olives for breakfast?”

Ben’s not going to pretend he knows what the fuck you’re talking about, but his patience is running out.

“All right, enough. Give me your uh, your phone,” he demands. His tone gains an edge, a warning.

You expel an irritated huff, but you reach into your purse and all but slam it on the kitchen table. He takes it and examines it with some curiosity, but mostly, he retains his stoicism.

“I know for a fact you can get basically whatever you want on this fucking thing within half an hour,” he says. “Do what you need to do to get some grub over here, but you’re not leaving this fucking apartment until I say so."

He raises his brows and meets your eyes in a not so subtle warning.

"Just so you know, I've got a sharper ear than you think," he adds. "If you get stupid and try making a call for help, it's gonna be the last thing you fucking do. You understand me?”

Your teeth grind together, but ultimately, your sense of self-preservation reminds you not to poke the bear anymore. You force your anger and fear to dim to embers beneath your skin, and you nod in agreement. You then lower your gaze, waiting for him to let you go.

When he does, you slip away from him as soon as possible, taking your phone as you go.

For what it’s worth, you lock the bedroom door behind you. 

AN: Aaaand we're off! lol Did you expect him to basically force her into house arrest? 😅 We're gonna have some fun on this one, but there's also going to be a fair bit of action and slow-burn moments.~

Next Time:

You suddenly stand from the table, your chair scraping across the floor. You can tell the sound irritates his sharp ear as he glances up at you with a frown.

“You are a goddamn fugitive. You get that right?” you say, regarding him with an incredulous tilt of your head. “Now you’ve hooked me into this. I could get into serious shit because of you, and you don’t even seem to care! What…what kind of fucking superhero are you supposed to be?”

At the same time, you don’t know why this surprises you. Most of the supes you’ve met couldn't care less about the average person. The entire purpose of Vought’s Legal Department springs to mind.

Still, you thought America’s first supe ever—the one who supposedly fought in WWII, pounded Nazis up the ass, and represented the ideals this country was supposed to be founded on—might actually give a shit. Yet again, it stings to be proven wrong.

Ben’s expression had been verging on apathy, but now, he’s irritated and angry. He pushes back from the table and stands up to his full height. Even wearing your ex’s plain gray crew shirt and some threadbare sweatpants, the man’s frame is intimidating. He makes slow steps closer until he’s looming over you.

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: Part 2

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Soldier Boy Masterlist

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[meo-juice]

OMGGGG kirishima as your bestfriend is so cute 🥹🥹🥹🥹 but what if he's pining ..??!? has a cute little crush on you aww

eijirou kirishima has a lil crush on you - bsf headcanons continued! ✩࿐࿔

⋆˙⟡ — thank you anon! lowkey i had him crushing in mind when i was writing the best friend kiri headcanons but wanted to keep it platonic. now i'll let 'em rip.

⋆˙⟡ — cw: sfw, fluff, bro is down bad, x reader, swearing

⋆˙⟡ — word count: 591

⋆˙⟡ — dividers are by @anitalenia!

to be honest, he didn't even realize he liked you at first.

he just really admired you for your strength, smarts, hard work, and drive for success in everything that you do.

it was just a fleeting thought that you happened to be the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

eijirou's lively and charismatic personality won't change when he's around you, but he will turn into a pile of mush after you guys go to your respective rooms.

he will still walk you to class everyday, pick up a little treat for you for breakfast, and goof off with you in class, but his heart will skip an extra beat every time.

seeing you walk down to the common room, still in your pajamas, hair tousled and eyes filled with remnants of sleep, he forgets that anything or anyone else in the room exists before you greet him with a simple hello to snap him out of it.

when you train together and your bodies bump a little closer together, he loses his focus.

when you jokingly call him and his hair dumb, it still happens to be the best thing he's ever heard.

with you sitting behind him in class, he sits a little straighter, a little taller, but still turns around every other minute to giggle with you and hear him make you laugh.

when you sit in bed watching movie after movie, all he can think about is what it would be like to forget about the movie and kiss you senseless.

he's never kissed anyone before, and that makes him nervous.

he knows you would never try to hurt him, but the idea of confessing to you and you rejecting him makes him more anxious than he's ever been.

he will talk quietly to himself in the bathroom mirror trying to hype himself up to ask you out because it's the manly thing to do. according to his rules he has been very unmanly for a while now.

the one time he tried to get advice from bakugou all he got was, "i don't fucking know dipshit. just don't talk to the spark plug about it cuz he'll try to race you to 'em."

he's tried to casually bring it up to you a few times, but all the words start to crunch together and his face turns uncontrollably hot and just about matches the color of his hair.

"so... if someone were to ask you out on a date how would you want them to?"

"what's your perfect date night?"

he knows that you've had fleeting crushes and a few dates every now and then, so he tries to play it off like he's curious about someone else.

"i'm just trying to get information for a, uhh, survey! or um, kaminari needed a wing man, he's uhh, y'know. doing his thing." he'd say awkwardly, diverting eye contact and rubbing the back of his searing neck.

when the rest of the guys find out that he has a crush on you (bakugou managed to let it out) kirishima gets several slightly jealous big pats on the back.

when he finally does confess, he's got the red roses, the chocolates, and the shaking knees of a scared man.

"hi y/n." *humongous gulp* "date? me? uh. do you want to go on a date with me?"

"of course, eijirou. i would lov-"

"about damn time you DUMBASSES. you've been giving each other the mushy gushy goo goo eyes for months now. just fuckin' KISS."

"sorry about him."

⋆˙⟡ — disclaimer: these characters do not belong to me! all written works are my own (meo-juice). please do not repost my work on other sites or apps than tumblr. thank you!

[maevebabyy]

SOFT SPOT

sophia laforteza x fem reader

req! - "Sophia and fem reader (who’s also part of Katseye) where reader likes sophia but doesnt do anything about it cuz she thinks that Sophia only sees her as a friend /sister, except she also has feelings for her."

a/n - added a small twist to this anon hope that’s okay!!

wc - 2.2k

the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting a warm glow over scattered sheets of paper and empty coffee cups. the walls are decorated with posters of some of your favourite music artists, beabadoobee’s latest album “this is how tomorrow moves” playing softly in the background. your desk is cluttered with notebooks, pens, your trusty guitar laying down beside you on your bed, waiting for you to play it again.

you sat cross-legged in your chair, your notebook in front of you, the pages filled with messy scrawls and half-formed ideas. you tap your pencil continuously against your chin, deep in thought, trying to find the perfect lines to use for lyrics for your group’s upcoming comeback.

“okay, think,” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the window where the last rays of sunlight illuminated the room. “what do i wanna say?”

you let out a soft groan, frustrated as you scribble out a line about longing. you toss your pencil aside, and lean back against the chair, letting out a deep sigh. what if i wrote about friendship? about how strong our bond is? but then, another thought crossed your mind– what if i made it more personal?

as you sat on the idea some more, your thoughts eventually drifted to sophia– the way her laughter brightened even the worst days, how her support made you feel invincible, and the friendly glances she’d give you that sent your heart racing. you felt your cheeks redden at the thought, but quickly shake your head, trying to refocus.

just then, there as a soft knock at the door, and it swung open to reveal sophia, holding your favourite snack in one hand and the same bright smile on her face that made your heart swoon. “hey, i thought you might need a little snack,” she said, stepping into the room.

you felt your heart skip a beat, this girl was a literal angel. “sophia, you didn’t have to.”

the filipina shrugged, her eyes sparkling. “i know you’ve been working hard on the lyrics. you need to eat something.”

at sophia’s words, you feel a rush of warmth spread through you, your earlier frustrations easily dismantled and fading. “thanks, soph.”

sophia grinned at your thank you, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “no problem, i need to make sure everyone’s doing well anyway. what’re you working on?”

“just some ideas for our comeback,” you say, trying to sound casual. “but i’m stuck.”

she leans in loser, peering at the notebook. “can i see?”

you feel yourself hesitate, how could you possibly show your lyrics to the girl you were thinking of while writing them? “uh, it’s a bit of a mess though…”

“that’s fine, i just wanna help out a little!” sophia spoke excitedly, her smile bright.

damn, how could you say no to that?

with a reluctant smile, you hand over your notebook. “don’t judge too harshly yet,” you chuckle, “i’m not done cooking.”

the filipina scanned the scribbles written down in your notebook, her brow furrowing in concentration. “this part here is interesting. it sounds like you’re writing about someone important.”

you feel yourself swallow, nervous. “it’s just about friendship… i think.”

sophia shoots you a teasing look, “you think?”

“okay, maybe not i think.” you laugh lightly, “but i’m trying write a song about feelings in general y’know?” you fidget lightly, pointing to a specific line. ‘don’t like anybody, tell me why it’s different with you.’

the 2002 girl tilted her head, a playful grin on her lips. “you sure this isn’t about anybody in mind?”

you feel your face flush at sophia’s remark, “no, no. just feelings in general. like i said.” you didn’t wanna risk sophia finding out, but you swear you could see a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as you said that.

sophia huffed lightly, putting on a light smile. “okay, okay. whatever you say.” she continued reading some lyrics, before pointing to one. “here, read this line: ‘i don’t say it much ‘cause i just always thought you knew.’ that’s pretty relatable.”

that lyric continues onto the next part, ‘it’s what you do to me, i’m wrapped around your finger and it can’t stop.’ 

you sigh, seeing the empty after that line, “this is where i’m stuck. i just can’t find the right words to finish it.”

sophia nodded thoughtfully beside you, giggling lightly. “i thought i’d be more help but i’m stuck too, y/n. but from the looks of it, it looks like you've got everything already.”

you roll your eyes lightly, chuckling, “yeah, everything except for the finishing line.”

sophia gets up from your bed, “you’ve already set a good momentum for the rest of the song, y/n. i think the next part should just really come from the heart.”

with those last words, sophia left your room, closing the door gently behind her.

-

a few days had passed since sophia last saw your lyrics. the group’s weekly movie night tradition was tonight, and it was yours and sophia’s turn to grab snacks for the group. you thought about what she said last time, ‘i think the next part should just really come from the heart.’

pulling into the convenience store parking lot, you parked the car and took a deep breath, the scent of vanilla and lavender wafting through your nose from sophia’s perfume. the sun had long set, leaving the city bathed in a soft glow from street lamps and shop signs. you could feel the slight chill in the air, a reminder that autumn was settling in.

sophia unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, her energy palpable as she stepped out into the night. but as you joined her, you noticed how she seemed to slow down, a calmness enveloping her in the quieter atmosphere.

“ready to pick out some snacks?” she asked, her voice warm and inviting, but with a relaxed cadence that felt right for the moment.

“absolutely,” you replied, feeling a smile creep onto your face. together, you walked toward the entrance, the flickering neon lights reflecting off the glass doors. inside, the air was warm, a nice contrast to the cool and crisp breeze of the night.

the store was mostly quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of a shopper in the distance. you could feel the weight of the day lifting off your shoulders as you moved through the aisles, the familiarity of the store easing any lingering tension.

“let’s start with chips,” sophia suggested, her tone casual as she walked beside you. you both gravitated toward the snack aisle, the shelves stocked with vibrant bags of chips and popcorn.

“what do you think about these?” you asked, holding up a bag piattos, a favourite of sophia’s.

“perfect choice,” she nodded, her voice soothing, as she smiled softly. “but we should probably get some doritos too.”

as you tossed the two bags of chips into the basket, sophia’s eyes scanned the shelves. “oh, we gotta get popcorn, i think we ran out last time.” 

“salty or sweet?’

“why not both?” sophia grins, putting in two bags of popcorn into the basket as well.

the two of you continued shopping for snacks that the entire group would enjoy, your basket gradually filling with an assortment of treats. after a final sweep of the aisles, you headed toward the checkout, the basket now brimming with goodies.

once everything was paid for, you stepped back outside, the cool night hair hitting you again. the city lights illuminated your surroundings, creating a beautiful backdrop for the evening. 

“alright, let’s load these up.” you began to load the back of your car with the snacks, arranging them carefully.

sophia joined you, lifting a bag of chips with a playful grin. “snack strength training,” she joked, pretending to lift it like a weight.

you laugh softly, shaking your head at sophia’s antics, continuing to put the snacks inside. once everything was accounted for, you both got into your car, with you settling into the driver’s seat. the engine hummed softly back to life, and you puled out of the parking lot, merging onto the quiet streets.

the drive back felt serene. the soft tunes of ariana grande’s vocals filled the car, with sophia obviously on aux. the city lights flickered past like fireflies, and you could feel a sense of peace washing over you.

“so, what’s on the movie lineup tonight?” sophia asked, glancing over at you, her eyes reflecting curiosity.

“manon has picks for tonight.” you chuckle softly, “knowing her, i think she’ll make us watch twilight tonight.”

-

like you expected, you were now watching the entire twilight saga for your group movie night, courtesy of manon. you were sitting on the edge of the couch, a bowl of caramel popcorn nestles in your lap, while sophia sat beside you, laughing at the cheesy lines.

“i can’t believe she just jumped off that cliff,” daniela exclaims, her eyes wide with disbelief. “like, really? is that how you solve your problems?”

“seriously! just talk to someone,” lara pipes in, rolling her eyes dramatically.

sophia nudged you with her shoulder, giggling. “I can see why twilight is a must see now.”

as the film progressed, the atmosphere shifted slightly, the warm glow of the tv flickered, casting shadows around the room, and you could see that sophia was slowly drifting. her head began to lean against your shoulder, her breathing softening.

“hey, don’t fall asleep on me, i can’t do this without your commentary.” you whisper playfully, but the words barely made it past your lips as her eyes fluttered shut.

a few moments later, you noticed her peaceful breathing, a cute and comforting sound that filled the space. you smiled, knowing she had fully succumbed to sleep.

you didn’t want to disturb her, but you also knew she wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping on the couch.

“hey, i’ll be right back,” you whispered to the others, who gave you a nod or a thumbs up.

you carefully lifted the sleeping girl, her arms wrapping around your neck, holding on tightly, at the action, you could feel the eyes of your fellow members on you two, giggling lightly. “so gentlewomanly of you, y/n” megan teases.

you ignore the teasing remarks of your members as you made your way to her room, carrying her securely, the nervous flutter in your stomach going crazy.

once inside, you laid her gently on the bed, but she tightened her grip, pulling you down beside her. “stay,” she whispered, her voice a mix of sleepiness and a hint of something more.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart racing at the closeness. “alright, just for a minute,” you replied, careful to keep your tone light so as to not wake the sleeping filipina.

as you settled beside her, the warmth of her body against yours sent your heart and mind racing. “sophia,” you said, feeling the need to break the silence, “you’re kinda clingy when you sleep.”

the said girl let out a soft giggle, her eyes still fluttering closed. “i just feel safe, i guess,” she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “but seriously, your heart is beating really fast right now. are you nervous or something?”

caught off guard, you felt your cheeks heat up. “uhm, i might be a little… surprised?” you stammered, not sure how to not give yourself away completely.

sophia’s eyes finally opened fully, and she turned to look at you, her gaze steady and warm. “you know,” she said, her voice softening, as if she was letting you in on a secret. “i’ve got a soft spot for you, y/n.”

your heart raced at her words, the warmth flooding your chest felt like something straight out of the songs you were trying to write. “i…” you started, but the words got caught in your throat. “is that so?” you finally managed, trying to sound cool, but your voice wavered.

“yeah,” she replied, her expression earnest. “i really do, you’re special to me.”

in that moment, everything felt charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. you could feel the truth of your feelings bubbling just beneath the surface, and all you wanted was to translate that into the lyrics you had struggled with for days.

“sophia,” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice palpable. “i’ve been trying to write a song, and it’s about… well, about feelings. and you–”

before you could finish, she brushed her fingers against your cheek, silencing you just for a moment. “i know. just write what you feel, y/n. just like we talked about.”

those words hung in the air, igniting something deep within you. “you’re right. i think i know how to finish it now.”

sophia smiled, her eyes sparkling from encouragement. “good. just remember, i’ll always be your biggest fan, y/n.”

with a mix of hope and happiness, you leaned in closer, feeling the warmth of the moment envelop you both. you realized that you didn’t need to hide our feelings any longer. the lyrics were right there, waiting for you to pour your heart out.

‘you know i got a soft spot for you’

a/n - this songs been on loop LMAO

[mrspiastri]

I would like to request a desi girl x lewis fic

✩ desi munda 🪅

pairing: lewis hamilton x desi!reader

cw: fluff, lewis being a bit negative etc etc

wc: 2k words

an: thanks anon, hope u like my first lewis fic!

“The last time I felt like this before a race was probably in 2008. It’s madness,” Lewis lamented in his driver’s room as he put on his fireproofs, getting ready to review the final data before hopping into the car.

“Well, it probably has to do with the fact that you’re racing in India after more than a decade. Unfamiliar track and all that jazz,” Y/N responded from where she was seated on the couch, filing her nails and adding the final touches to her makeup.

“I think it might be more because my gorgeous girlfriend won’t even look at my face,” he commented with a slight grin as he shimmied into his race suit.

She playfully rolled her eyes, snapping her compact mirror shut and stuffing it into her purse before looking at him. “There, now I’m all yours.” She smiled up at him as he walked across the room, towering over her.

“I think you’ve got a lot of pressure on you today, and not just from Fred and the team,” Y/N stated, making Lewis groan before plopping down next to her on the couch in a less-than-graceful manner.

“If you’re talking about your family, then yes, it’s probably that. I think I saw all your cousins and your aunts in the first three rows of the grandstands,” he muttered pitifully, pushing his face into the crook of her neck. She took pity on him, wrapping her arms around him as he continued ranting.

“I know they’re excited to see their future son-in-law doing what he does best—” Y/N let out an incredulous grunt at this—“but this is INSANE! I might die of stress, honestly.”

She laughed at him before holding his chin and making him look up at her. “You’re going to do wonderful, Lew. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. They all know you’re the best damn driver on the grid; they’re just excited to see you in your element.”

“But if I don’t win, they’re going to think I’m useless. A washed-up, no-good idiot who can’t even win a stupid race,” he sighed, slumping further down, letting his negative thoughts take over.

Y/N sat up straighter at this. “I know you’re not talking about yourself like that. Lewis, you are an amazing driver, and you know that very well,” she said firmly, leaving no room for hesitation.

“Besides, my whole family loves you! You could come dead fucking last, and they’d still cheer. Hell, you could DNF, and they’d cheer as you brought your car into the pits to retire from the race.”

Lewis let out a dry laugh at that. He couldn’t exactly deny it.

“I just... I don’t want them to think I’m a loser. I want them to see me as a part of their family—as your future husband. If they see me lose, they’ll think I’m not good enough for you,” he finally admitted, revealing what had been weighing on him ever since Y/N told him her family would be attending the race.

Y/N was silent, emotions warring inside her. On one hand, she was shocked he thought so lowly of himself and his reputation in front of her family. But on the other hand, the fact that he had thought so far ahead about their future made her want to grab his face and kiss him until he forgot every single doubt in his head.

“Lew, I promise you—whatever happens today won’t change their perception of you. To them, you are the coolest, most enigmatic person ever. And you’re definitely the best catch out of all the other partners my family members have brought home. I mean, come on, who can beat a seven-time Formula One World Champion?”

A knock at the door interrupted them, a staff member reminding Lewis that he had to check the final corrections made to the car after qualifying before the formation lap started in 15 minutes.

“I’ll meet my parents in the garage; you go on ahead,” she said, standing up and adjusting the red dress she wore, showing her full support for the Ferrari driver.

Lewis got into the car, checking if the throttle and steering were working fine. “Seems good. Wanna start the lap?” he asked his engineers, receiving an affirmative response.

Y/N leaned down and kissed his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark on his skin. “A kiss for good luck—and to remove the stupid thoughts in your head.”

“I was hoping for a proper one,” Lewis playfully pouted up at her.

“That’s for after the race. You gotta have something to look forward to, na?”

He simply laughed before putting on his helmet. The sound of his car revving up echoed in the garage as he exited. Y/N, meanwhile, made her way to the back where her parents waited for her, smiling at the conversation she had just had with Lewis.

“He seems stressed, hope it doesn’t affect his performance.” her dad pointed out, making her sigh in worry.

“He is. Honestly, he’s more worried about disappointing the family than he is about losing,” she confided.

“I hope you told him he’s crazy for even thinking that,” her mother gasped.

Y/N winked while putting her headphones on. “You know it.”

🪺🪺🪺

It was the final lap of the race. Lewis had overtaken Max at the start of lap 37, after tailing him for more than half of the race. In the Ferrari garage, tensions were high, with both drivers in podium positions.

As the checkered flag waved, Lewis soared past it, clinching victory in front of his girlfriend’s home crowd and further cementing Ferrari’s Constructors’ Championship title contention.

The announcers’ voices boomed throughout the grandstands, the crowd erupting into cheers. Everyone at the Ferrari garage ran out to celebrate with Lewis and Charles in parc fermé, the latter having placed third. Y/N and her parents were escorted to where the podium finishers had gathered their cars.

Lewis stood on his car, bowing to the roaring fans with his palms pressed together in a namaste pose—just like she had taught him.

The team cheered him and Charles on, with pats on the back and massive hugs. Lewis was all smiles, scanning the crowd until his eyes found Y/N, waving at him from behind the barriers.

He ran up to her, lifting her off the ground in the biggest hug he could manage without hoisting her over the barrier. She hugged him tighter, his helmet getting in the way.

He pulled it off, handing it to a team member before pulling her in again. “Now, about that kiss you mentioned earlier...” he grinned.

“You’re impossible!” Y/N laughed, playfully pushing his chest.

“Good thing you love it.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t let him suffer for long. She leaned in, closing the distance between them. Her lips met his in a kiss that was slow and lingering, as if they wanted to memorize the feel of each other. His hand slid to the nape of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, while his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

She melted into him, gripping the front of his race suit, anchoring herself in his warmth.

The crowds, the cheers, the cameras—it all faded into the background.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, their foreheads rested together, the air between them thick with unspoken words.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I forgot we were in public for a second.”

He chuckled, fingers tracing her back. “Me too. Hope your dad doesn’t beat the shit out of me.”

Her parents decided to turn a blind eye to the couple, instead focusing on congratulating Lewis on his win. However, he couldn’t help but notice her father slapping his back just a little harder than necessary, a certain look in his eye that made Lewis straighten up.

🪺🪺🪺

Later, in the Ferrari hospitality, Y/N groaned as Lewis reached for her.

“Please shower! The champagne and sweat combined make me want to puke.”

Lewis, of course, ignored this, chasing her around until he finally caught her in his grasp—sweat, champagne, and all.

“You’re so disgusting. I just washed my hair, yaar.”

Her smirk, however, gave her away.

“Well, Lewis,” her cousin quipped, “you’ve definitely earned your spot in the family now.”

Lewis grinned. “Well, I’d hope so. It was very nice of you all to come out today—really motivated me. And scared the living shit out of me.”

The whole room burst into laughter. Her father cleared his throat, eyeing the two of them. “You’ve done well today, beta. You’ve got speed, skill, and determination—but most importantly, you make my daughter happy.

Lewis straightened slightly, sensing the weight of the moment. “That means the world to me, sir.”

Her father studied him for a beat before nodding approvingly. “Good. Now go shower before you suffocate us with that champagne stench.”

The room erupted into laughter, and Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “I told you.” Lewis laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Y/N’s temple before heading off. “I’ll be back—don’t have too much fun without me.”

🪺🪺🪺

The afterparty was in full swing by the time Lewis and Y/N arrived. The upscale venue was buzzing with energy—team members, rival drivers, and VIP guests mingled over glasses of champagne, the hum of conversations blending seamlessly with the music playing overhead.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, celebratory drinks, and the undeniable electricity of victory.

When the doors opened, all heads instinctively turned toward the couple making their entrance.

Lewis Hamilton, still glowing from his win, walked in with Y/N by his side, her right arm slotted in the crook oh his left one. They were well dressed as always — Lewis in a well-fitted, deep blue kurta, a nod to Y/N’s heritage, and Y/N in a breathtaking red saree that shimmered under the golden lights. The rich fabric draped over her in a way that left little to the imagination, her bangles softly jingling as she adjusted her hold on his arm.

“Well, don’t we look like a power couple?" Charles teased, raising his glass as they approached.

Y/N smirked. "You’re just jealous, Charlie."

“Of the matching outfits or the fact that you two have already stolen all the attention?" Carlos chimed in with a grin.

Lewis chuckled, placing a protective hand on the small of Y/N’s back. "Can’t blame them. My girl does clean up pretty damn well."

Y/N turned to him, eyes dancing with amusement. "Only fair, considering I dressed you."

Lewis leaned in slightly, voice low and teasing. "And here I thought I was doing you a favor by looking this good." She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she tugged him toward the bar.

"Come on, Mr. Race Winner, let’s get you a drink before you get too cocky." The bartender barely had a chance to ask before Charles called out, "A whiskey for the champion and—Y/N, what are you drinking?"

"White wine," she replied.

Lewis took the glass from the bartender and handed it to her before raising his own in a silent toast. "To surviving your family’s initiation," he joked.

She laughed softly, clinking her glass against his. "Oh, you’re not done yet. This is just the beginning. But let’s talk about that later, because the only thing I’m focusing on is how good you look in this kurta.”

He laughed, “Well you’re the one who said I should wear this instead of the red one I wanted to go with.”

“It’s called contrast, and we’re pulling it off well. Besides, you look much more handsome in this, like a proper desi munda.

Lewis narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "That sounds both adorable and terrifying. Should I be worried?"

Y/N smirked, "Don’t worry about it.”

Before he could question her, the music shifted to something slower, more sultry, and Lewis took that as his cue. Handing his glass to Carlos, he turned to Y/N with a familiar glint in his eye.

"May I have this dance?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You? Dancing at a public event?"

Lewis smirked, pulling her toward him without waiting for an answer. "For you? Always."

And just like that, in the middle of the celebration, the world shrank down to just the two of them—spinning, laughing, and getting lost in each other, a champion on the track and in love.

never written for lewis before so hope this is nice anon. honestly not very proud of this one but like fuck it we ball <4

[jweekgoji]

can you do something thing similar to part 2 of Sentinel Prime/Reader where reader becomes more cold towards sentinel prime due to being annoying as reader went to controlled sentinel prime around like some dog to stay away from reader as reader meet D-16 after the race scene to happily introduce each other like a idol/fan relationship and given D-16 a sticker that looks similar to reader (I hope you are doing okay and well and make sure to drink water<3)

Sentinel/Prime!Reader/D-16

tw: depressing thoughts from reader, slight Sentinel's manipulative behavior, possesiveness, jealous!Sentinel, no relationship between Sentine/D-16 in this one. word count: ~2000 a/n: some changes in canon. story happens after the death of 13 Primes, but before TF:One events where they go to the surface. No one knows the truth apart from Sentinel. sorry for not posting much last week. was busy with deadlines, but now I have a little more time. thank you for your request anon, I hope you're doing okay too. :)

The day Sentinel personally informed you about the deaths of your siblings changed you forever. No matter how many cycles passed, you always blamed yourself for it. Why didn't they take you with them? Didn't call for help? Were you so weak and foolish that none of them told you of their plans.

If you had been there, things would have been different. Then none of this would have happened. Everything would be like it was before; everyone would be happy. You'd be happy.

Now, the only company you have is Sentinel. The only one who, no matter what, has always been there for you.

Any other bot in your position would be grateful. Sentinel is still your rock even now, even though every time you hear his voice, you want to rip out your audio receptors with your bare servos.

You were never there that day, but he was. A lucky survivor, he informed you of a most horrific event. The quintessons had sneakily launched an attack on the Primes, brutally wiping out every last one of them. Not even the Matrix of leadership was left.

Zeta...how will you be without him? How will Cybertron survive without him? Primus, may he give you strength.

From that moment on, Sentinel, as the only one close in rank, spent all his time to find the matrix.

“I understand how you feel right now. You deserve some rest,” Sentinel draws out his words sweetly, leaning closer to you. “Please let me handle all of this.”

You agreed.

Can you be blamed for that? Hardly. In a moment of weakness, when your thoughts clouded over the loss of your brothers and sisters, grieving through the night to continue the cycle in the morning, you constantly felt tired. At times, even your guards barely saw you outside your chambers, only Sentinel visited you every evening.

Much has changed on Cybertron in that time. The flow of energon dried up, and new sparks were more and more born without t-cogs. The matrix of leadership was never found, slowly dooming you to a meaningless existence.

How low you have fallen. Resorting to something so horrible...you had to mine the few resources that Primus left behind. You wonder if the other Primes are disappointed in you.

You hear a barely audible click behind you. The door to your chambers opens, revealing Sentinel in all his glory. Your optics narrow slightly as you turn around to look at him. The advisor seems to be getting used to your more...intimate relationship, now barely bothering to notify you of his upcoming arrival. Now he acts as if the two of you are truly close.

Sentinel gives you his signature smile, the complete opposite of your facial expression now. Tired, irritated, saddened. Not the most outstanding features for one of the Primes.

“Ah, so early and already awake?” Sentinel pretends to be surprised as he walks into your chambers. “That's my Prime. Feeling a little better today?”

You spare him a short glance, as you sit on your recharge slab. The sheets scattered everywhere, probably all curled up because of how restless you are during your recharge.

You mutter your answer, only for Sentinel to hum in agreement, as he approaches you closer.

“I was thinking about that maybe, since I've been working so tirelessly for the past 50 cycles...we can organize an Iacon 5000 together,” Sentinel purrs, placing his servos on your shoulders. Still tense as always. “What do you think? Iaconians are all waiting for their beloved Prime to show up.”

You sigh. Are you even sure you can handle it? Of course, you love your people, you will do anything for them but right now, still grieving you don't know if you have any strength left; but as a Prime this is your job, your responsibility. Even if it hurts, you still have to do this.

Your optics locked on where Sentinel's servos hold you. Something in his touch made you shiver, the disgusting feelings building up down your throat. No matter how much he does this to you, all you wanted was some peace and quiet. With Sentinel around, it was never an option.

“I will be there,” you say with not much enthusiasm.

For a brief moment, Sentinel was happy. Finally, maybe you started getting over their deaths, maybe even start appreciating everything he had done for you? Hmm? It's about time.

He stood there expectantly, as if waiting for something from you. A little bit of praise will be great. Of course, it's the least you can do for him after all this time he cared for you, but he will take what you give him, for now.

His silent presence didn't mean anything for you. What was he expecting? Haven't you given him your answer already?  You sigh, waving your servo in a shoo motion.

“You can be free. Make sure everything is well-prepared.”

Oh, another broken heart.

You held back your promise. Following Sentinel, a loud voice in the background introduced you as you stood on the platform beside your advisor. The voices of a thousand Iaconians cheered your name, as if your mere presence was a blessing itself.

In a way, you missed it. So many new, naive faces. You really had been saddened by the past for so long that you hadn't had a chance to meet the present face to face at all. And even still, they loved you. The young, poor miners were so full of admiration for you, even though they had never had the chance to see you for real.

You were so engrossed in your own thoughts that you hardly noticed the smug smirk on the corner of the lips on Sentinel's face. He leans a little closer to you, whispering softly.

“I told you they still love you,” he flashes a glance toward the crowd, ”Just relax and observe. Tonight will go perfectly.”

You were only partially paying attention to his chatter, nodding your head whenever he opened his mouth. It was hard to tell if he actually noticed it, or if he didn't have the courage to confront you about it. Still, he never stopped.

“I was thinking about asking you to accompany me on one of the meetings I have planned tomorrow with senator...”

“How about going out tonight? After the race, hmm?”

“Me and you. At Maccadam's. Together.”

“I didn't know that we now invite miners to participate in the race too,” you say.

“I'm sorry, what now?”

Sometimes, ignoring the Sentinel does have its benefits. Sometimes it benefits more than just you. You weren't that interested in this day, another long, monotonous day when you have to wave and smile just so no one will notice your anxiety. How wrong you were.

Two bots, with no t-cogs, snuck into the race unnoticed and were some meters away from winning? Primus, what a day. If your first smile was a genuine one, the one emotion the Sentinel had worked hard to achieve, your companion was far from happy.

His optics focused on the screen, showing the red-and-blue bot running alongside the grayish one. Flickering back and forth, he had no idea how it had gotten that way. This day had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect! When Sentinel turns to you, opening his mouth to express his frustration, he immediately shuts up. Someone so insignificant, someone who isn't him, has managed to bring you joy.

He's doubling the daily shift for the miners starting from tomorrow.

D-16 walked awkwardly in a circle, almost biting his fingertips in an attempt to somehow curb his anxiety. Scrap, scrap, scrap—the mere thought made him want to swing and slam his helmet against the wall.

“Relax, D, it's not that bad,” Orion shrugged.

“THEY were here,” D-16 emphasizes on your name and status.

“It could have been a lot worse?” Orion smiles awkwardly.

D-16 sighed tiredly. He appreciated his friend's attempts to reassure him in some way, but at the moment, he wanted to either strangle Orion for his idea or strangle himself for agreeing to such a risky venture in the first place.

“How much worse can it get? Do you have any idea how disappointed they are in us right now?” he looks at his friend unhappily. How can Pax be so indifferent at this point? When their careers and futures are on the line? “No, we're going to go and explain everything to them right now, I'm sure that-”

D-16 turns around to leave the room in a hurry as his face collides with something. For a moment, he thought he had hit a wall, but as soon as he lifts his head up....

“Are you okay?” you ask calmly.

The poor miner immediately recoils back, his face heating up, giving off a noticeable blush on his cheeks. His mouth is wide open, but not a single word comes out of his mouth. Orion gives him a light shake to make his friend finally come to his senses.

Luckily for him, Orion spoke up first to try to stand up for D-16 and explain to you that it was only his fault alone, but you only shook your head.

“You did a very good job today,” you smile. “Both of you were amazing.”

This time, it's Orion's time to be silent. He stares at D-16, whose optics were literally glowing with admiration. Knowing what a die-hard fan his friend is, it's a miracle he didn't melt immediately in front of you.

“And you,” you point to the D-16, poking your finger lightly at his chassis. “Be more careful.”

In response to your words, D just nods his head quickly. At that moment, it seems that all his strength has left him, so much so that he can't even lift his own tongue to answer you. The low mech in front of you tries to straighten his back, as if attempting not to show his bad side.

“O-Of course,” D blurts out, his vibrant, large optics focused on your every word.

You pull out two miniature, shiny stickers, offering them to Orion and D-16, to which they gladly accept it...well, D with much more obvious enthusiasm than Orion. He had to physically restrain himself to not accidentally damage it with how much he's excited right now.

He could easily recognize which series the sticker was from. It sparkles with colors in the light, limited edition, and shows off your alt mod if held at the right angle! To whom did he sell his spark to get such good fortune?

Your moment is interrupted by the sudden arrival of Airachnid, who immediately darts her gaze at you, then examines every corner of the room with her intense stare. Her optics bore into yours, and for a moment, her usual bored look changed to one of momentary surprise.

“There you are! I've been looking all over Iacon for you, and here you are with...” Sentinel immediately enters after Airachnid, he barely has time to say anything inappropriate before he notices the presence of the very two that he still has a lot of problems to clean up because of. “...with our honored participants in the recent race!”

Sentinel smiles strainedly, covering his words with a short chuckle. His servo rests on your back, slowly pulling you farther away.

“You could have told me you were here, I would have dealt with all of this,” he notes.

“I've already dealt with it, Sentinel,” you remind him, giving him a stern look. You're still a Prime. His desire to meddle in your affairs annoys you more and more every day. “Make sure they're fixed well.”

Sentinel, gritting his teeth, nods obediently at your words, removing his hand and instead, hiding them behind his back.

“As you wish," he turns to look at Airachnid, silently giving her a nod.

 That day, you never had a chance to visit that little miner, who couldn't take his eyes off of you the whole time. You wonder where he went after?

[bad268]

omg im obsessed with your work! could i please request kimi antonelli and a reader who is just kind of sad and cries a lot? or just like some general comfort? xx

Strawberry Margarita Mix (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Menstruating! Reader)

Clingy Antonelli Universe

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Also, combined this with #3, Figure Skating Anon <3 I love both of you and I hope yall don't mind I made this part of Clingy Antonelli)

Warnings: Menstruating reader, midol mentioned, aged up Kimi

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1430

Summary: The reader's period makes them a little emotional, but Kimi knows the trick.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

It didn’t happen a lot, but whenever you were the clingy one, it meant everything was wrong and the world was gonna end. It was usually only a problem when you didn’t feel good, which was rare. The other common reason occurred every month like clockwork. Your period was one of the worst things you could experience, and it was always a role reversal for you and Kimi. 

He was usually the clingy one, but during your monthly hell week, your level of cling outweighed him easily. It sucked when he had a race, but the summer break was one of the few times you did not have to worry about being separated for races or the like. He made it very clear to any team he signed with that there was always one week a month that he would not be coming in for anything unless it was absolutely necessary. Mercedes was no exception.

Granted they knew about you since you and Kimi had been dating for as long as they could remember, but when he got signed to the F1 team, they continued their original agreement. 

And that’s where you were now. 

You were supposed to be on a boat somewhere in the Maldives, but no. You were curled up in your room, crying because you ran out of strawberry margarita mix. You may have been completely miserable, but you wanted to at least pretend you were on vacation, and when you saw the mix was gone from the last time you wanted to get into the vacation vibe, you just cried.

“I can get you more, amour (love),” Kimi comforted as he wrapped you in his arms, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face. He really wanted to take you seriously, but this was the seventh time you cried today.

The first was because you couldn’t find the remote. Then it was the sunrise was so pretty, it brought tears to your eyes. Then the water was too cold when you took a bath. That was Kimi’s fault, and he apologized. Next, you accidentally stained your favorite pair of sweatpants which were actually Kimi’s, and your throw blanket. You had two separate episodes from that. One because you stained the paints and blanket, and another one because you didn't want to do laundry. Lastly, you cried because you felt like you were missing out.  

This vacation in the Maldives had been planned with a group of your friends, and seeing their posts on Instagram made you feel like you were missing out. However, a small part of you also knew you would be miserable in the Maldives too. You’d rather subject Kimi to your moodiness rather than your entire friend group, but you were experiencing some major FOMO.

Then Kimi had the incredible idea of doing similar things at your apartment like drinking margaritas and tanning, and you planned to go to a beach later in the week. It sounded like a great plan at first, but as soon as you saw there was no strawberry margarita mix, it felt like the end of the world.

“No,” You wined as you hid in his chest. You wanted to stop the tears, but it was harder said than done.”I wanted strawberry margaritas.”

“We have classic lime. Does that work until we can get more?” Kimi tried to offer as he swayed you two back and forth and ran his fingers along your back in a comforting manner. 

“No,” You dragged out again with more tears as you sort of melted in his arms to sit on the ground in the fetal position. You weren’t crying about the margarita mix anymore. Your cramps started flaring up and the last thing you wanted to do was stand. “I hate this.”

I know you do amour (love),” Kimi consoled as he sat on the kitchen floor beside you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He also snaked his hand between your thighs and stomach to place his hand on your tummy as a makeshift heat pack for the time being. “I know it hurts now, but you’ll get through this. You’re the strongest person I know, and I know you always prove to be stronger each and every month.”

“I don’t feel very strong,” You muttered as you turned to bury your face in his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Why does it always have to be so painful?”

“How about this?” Kimi starts, He moves his arm from your shoulders to hold your chin, forcing you to look at him. He gently whipped away the stray tears from your cheeks before placing a light kiss to your lips. “I think you just need some pampering and cuddles, so why don’t we go and watch a movie in our room? We can have all of the snacks you want, and if you’re feeling up for it, we can go out for your favorite pasta later. How does that sound?”

“I think that sounds like heaven,” You sighed as you leaned into his hand.

“Good, you go get comfy, and I’ll grab anything and everything you could want,” Kimi left one last kiss on your nose before standing, holding his hand out to help you up as well. 

“Except the margarita mix?” You joked lightly when you stood up, smirking at Kimi as you teased.

“Except for the margarita mix,” Kimi sighed with a small smile. “Now, go before I leave you in the bed all alone.”

“No!” You shouted as you immediately clung to his arm as tears sprung into your eyes again., “Don’t say that!”

“I’m kidding amour (love),” Kimi chuckled as he kissed your forehead before looking back at you. “I promise, I’ll be in our room in like 5 minutes. You go pick a show or movie, and I’ll get all of the snacks for you. I’ll also get your hot water bottle. Let me handle all of it while you get comfy.”

Begrudgingly, you left his side to go take a quick shower to wash off before putting on a new t-shirt and sweatpants, taking care of your products as well. Then you set up in bed. You laid out a towel on our bed just in case a leak happened again before you got comfortable under your comforter and loaded up Netflix. You went to your comfort movie/show and prompted it up for when Kimi came in. Speaking of Kimi, it had definitely been more than five minutes. You gave him a couple extra minutes, thinking he lost track of time, but it didn't take long for him to walk in the room with everything. 

Every comfort snack, drink, candy, and ice cream you had ever mentioned. He had everything for you. He also had a glass in his hand, but you couldn’t see what it was. You assumed it was your comfort drink already poured out. He set all of the snacks around the bed before setting your Stanley cup on your bedside table beside a couple of Midols. He always put water in it and encouraged you to stay hydrated. Then, he put the glass in your hand.

“Thank you, baby,” You said as you took a drink from the glass and immediately made a shocked face. “Strawberry margarita?”

“Don’t be so shocked,” Kimi chuckled as he sat next to you under the covers. “It was pretty easy when you can get things delivered. I have us stocked for a while, so any time you want a margarita, you let me know.”

“Not just any margarita, Kimi,” You graned as you leaned into his side, “A strawberry margarita.”

“Oh, my bad,” He teased back as he played the movie/show. This was what you needed. Just to be held by him. That’s all you wanted and needed in this moment. It was like as soon as he wrapped his arms around you, you were gone. You snacked a little on what was around you, but honestly, crying took a lot out of you. You were ready to just collapse for the next week. You didn’t want to yet, though. You still had one more thing you wanted to say. 

“Kimi,” You whispered as you looked up at him from your place on his chest. He hummed in response, almost asleep but not totally gone yet. “Thank you for putting up with me. Ti amo (I love you).”

“Ti amo di più, mia vita (I love you more, my life),” He whispered back, pulling you tighter against his chest. “Sempre (Always).”

~~~

Part 4 ->

Series masterlist

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[deathbxnny]

I hope you dont mind another one but it’s something i’ve been thinking about. Dw this is more hurt/comfort. Can I request Wriothesly, Ayato, and Tighnari reacting to an alternate version of their dead kid all grown up? Like my other request, can you write it where it happens during their respective Archon quest (and well for Ayato, his story quest)?

Context:

He used to have a kid. Whether the kid was related to him or not doesn't matter as he still loves them all the same. But one day, his kid died around their pre teens. I'll leave it ambiguous on how they died but their death broke him.

Few years later, the genshin impact plot happens and he meets the traveler and their companions where one of them just so happens to be his dead kid's alternate self. And they're all.. grown up. Despite looking much older, he knew deep down that that's his kid but also not really his kid because he knows his kid is dead, they died young.

The person in front him is just an alternate version of them. A glimpse of what his kid could be if they were still alive..

- Flower Anon 🌸

This one hurts so well, Flower Anon, so thank you so much for another great request!!<33

(Just like the other request, this is also generalized to make it easier for my fish memory brain-)

Content: Reader died young, mention of alt reader being more of a doppelganger in a way, grief, vague child death, angst, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》TIGHNARI

Tighnari didn't notice at first, or well, he tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that you looked eerily similar to his deceased child. His heart was racing, ears flattening to his head momentarily, so many unsaid words stuck in his throat. And then there was nothing.

His face gently relaxed into it's usual deadpan, shoulders dropping, his instincts grimly reminding him that you were indeed not his child, but somehow just a coincidental and much older doppelganger of it.

But the heart ache began to linger for different reasons. Mainly due to the fact that a part of him finally healed at the sight of you. He always wanted his young one to grow up happy and healthy. And whilst it never got to do so on it's own, he allowed himself to imagine that his child lived on through this version of you.

》KAMISATO AYATO

Ayato smiled bitterly, immideatly recognizing your younger features in this much older version. His heart hurt, ached, and felt like it was being ripped out all over again, yet his signature smile still remained. He had a role to play, an important title to uphold. But he still couldn't bare to look at you directly after the first time he did so.

His answers to the travelers and Paimons questions were short and swift, making it kind of obvious to his sister next to him how desperate he was to get away from everyone. Not that she could blame him, as she felt the same. Your death broke everyone in the family, and they found no joy in seeing you all grown up because this wasn't you. You weren't the child they lost.

Ayaka eventually feels too faint to continue the conversation, which frees the two siblings from you and your companions questions and confused glances. The silence between the two is deafening, as they watch you leave with dull, solemn looks, the questions of "what if" and "if only" plaguing their exhausted minds.

》WRIOTHESLEY

Seeing you, an older you, stand there with the traveler and Paimon whilst he went to greet you both, made him nearly consider turning around and leaving at once. He never confronted your death, mainly to protect his strength and what was left of his sanity after he lost you. He never spoke of you either anymore, going as far as forbidding anyone to ever mention it, too.

He just couldn't stand it, having become so awfully bitter over time, and it only worsened at the sight of this alternate version. His jaw clenched, and he had to take a deep breath to quell his confused temper. Why did he feel so angry? Was it the regret and grief of never being to actually see the real you this way? Shouldn't he be glad that he had seen a glimpse of you as an adult after all? Perhaps his anger stemmed from the realisation of permanent loss. You weren't his child, despite the similarities.

It makes him become alot harsher to you three and the Hearth children that were lurking in the shadows. Whilst he may have been more merciful beforehand, he just wanted you all out already. He wanted to return to the peace he had made with the darkness in his heart. If it wasn't for Sigewinne telling him to focus on the plan at hand, he would've perhaps lost it entirely a while ago.

[lcriedlastnight]

hi, can i please request a little fic where the reader moves from australia (totally fine if you don’t wanna do aus, feel free to pick another country!) to the uk for karting. she meets lando at school and their friendship kicks off when he hears her accent and realises how gorgeous she is, and since then they have grown up together. even when she decided to give up racing while he continued to go into f1 she was there from the beginning. just something cute showing the timeline of their little relationship

hi! this is such a great idea anon, lovely. ur a genius and ily. big hugs. also i cannot believe the race today, lando should’ve won my man needs a little luck pls.

tw: fem!reader, swears, me not knowing karting lore, me also not knowing anything about australia, swears, lmk if you want me to add anything. p.s i am working throught all of my asks rn, there was quite a few so i am trying my best to get through them all before i open them again!

w/c: 1.7k

you first met lando at a karting competition when you were fourteen. you had just moved to the uk and you didn't have many friends, seeing as you were very introverted when it came to settings like this. even though karting was your entire world sometimes the nerves around other people would just grow to be too much.

lando was a little older than you, just shy of a year, meaning that you were in the same year at school. you noticed him in one of your classes and recognised him from your most recent race, the weekend before. his tanned skin and infectious smile was hard to miss. of course meeting lando had to come at a time where everyone around you was starting to figure out who and what they were attracted to and as much as it embarrassed you to say it, lando was who you were attracted to.

it started off as a little crush, it was harmless and he didn't even know who you were. you made it that way, not trying to make any friends in school - or karting for that matter. you were not sure when it turned into infatuation but if there was one thing you were good at it was hiding your feelings. so when lando himself came over to you to congratulate you on getting p2, you hide your nerves like a pro and only made it seem like you were shy.

that was the first time lando had seen you and honestly he could not believe it. he thought he recognised you when you had stepped onto the podium just after the race had finished, when it clicked that he knew you from school he felt a little guilty that he had never given you the time of day before. how could he have walked around the halls of the school, possibly even brushing shoulders with you, and not even know about it. the mere thought felt like a crime. in that moment lando knew he had to get to know you better.

"you were super fast on track today." lando's accent rings through your ears as you turn around after another race. you didn't get a podium finish this time. neither did he but you are gobsmacked that he is standing in front of you, complimenting you.

"thanks. you too. you were zoomin' around it." you say, australian accent heavy around your words. this is not the first time you have spoken to lando but it seems it is the first time he has actually listened because up until just now he had no clue that you were australian.

"you're from australia?" he asks, trying to play it cool as his eyes dart around your face, taking you in like he has never looked at another person before. you nod, going a little shy at his blatant staring.

"are all the australian girls this pretty, or is it just you?" lando smiles at you, you can't decide if it is a cheeky smile or if he genuinely means it. just like you can't tell if he is flirting with you or if he seriously wants to know how pretty the girls are back home. his words leave you speechless, not knowing how to answer his question. it is like lando challenges your silence with his own. you are both quiet for a while. lando just knows from there that he needs you with him, he feels the need to warm you up to him and erase your awkward nature around him.

lando sticks by your side until you have no choice but to warm up to him. you end up becoming best friends with the boy, pushing that lingering crush to the back of your mind any time the two of you are together, although you feel it grow the more he grows into his looks and the more he grows into his personality as a whole. you find that he just understands you like no one else has ever done before. sometimes you don't even have to tell him whats wrong, he just knows and he knows the exact way to comfort or distract you through it. the curly haired boy is by your side through every single decision you make and vice versa.

lando was the first person you told when you decided that you were going to quit racing. you were only eighteen, him nineteen, when you realised that as much as you loved racing, you were not so sure that it loved you back. lando being a prime example of this. he was already in f1 starting next season, his rookie season with mclaren, their first seat filled with big racing star carlos sainz. lando was making it big and as you had told him many times as he made his way through all the championships, you knew he was going to go far and do everyone he loved proud. you, on the other hand, well you had barely even made a podium in the past year and half, nevermind actually winning races. you knew you just didn't have what it took to make it to formula one, like lando did.

"i think i'm going to quit racing." you had confessed to your best friend while he was driving you both to the mclaren technology centre. he had promised you a tour of the place and you had been begging him until he eventually gave in. lando almost crashed the car in shock.

"you what, sorry?" lando asks, foot back on the accelerator again as the car jolts back into action. the boys head keeps snapping to you when he can, turning to make sure you were not in fact, kidding. "you're serious?" he asks again as you fail to answer his first question.

"i am. i'm deadly serious." you affirm. lando's mouth opens in shock. there was just no way. you were his racing girl.

"i'm super thankful for racing and where it got me and who it gave me," you thank god lando's eyes were on the road because it gives you time to shake off your look of longing as you trail off a little. you pick yourself back up when he coughs a little to bring you back to earth. "but i'm so tired of waking up on a race day and dreading it. i always told myself when i was younger that no matter what, no matter what anyone told me, if i was unhappy doing something, even if it was something i used to love, i'd give it up. i'm not going to beat a dead horse."

your best friend listens intently as he drives you both closer to the centre. once you have stopped talking it is a little quiet. you long to break it but you know you need to let lando process this. neither of you can even remember a time in racing without each other. it sounded like lando's own personal version of hell.

"well i'm proud of you for putting your happiness first." lando starts as the car pulls up in the parking space, dedicated to him. the thing was, you were not even jealous of lando already being in f1. that is when you knew that your love for taking part in the sport had died. you would never stop watching it though. lando made you promise you would try and watch every race you possibly could when he finally started his first offical season in f1.

you had kept your promise and followed him through to what would now be his fifth season. you were his biggest chearleader, constantly posting on your instagram and twitter about how unfair the stewards were bring to lando, and taking to your socials to celebrate the big wins. and when in his fourth season he was promoted to first seat and the second seat was given to a fellow australian you began to wonder the same thing as many of his fans. 'is lando collecting pretty australians like infinity stones or what?!'

the post race interview after lando gets his first win at miami is one you will never forget, especially because he confessed his feelings for you on live tv. you were absolutely gutted about not being able to make it to the race, even though you were never planning on going in the first place, it hurt more that you could not be there to celebrate his first formula one win, especially when it feels like you have been by his side forever. you shoot him a text saying he deserved it and to facetime you if he has time before he goes out and you know he will text you back when he sees it.

as you are back in australia for three weeks, you are sitting with your family as you watch and wait for the podium ceremony. all you wanted was to see your boy finally lift his trophy. every part of you knew that he was just glowing. you hadn't even seen his face from under his helmet yet.

as he conducts one last post-race interview before he has to get back for the trophy ceremony, you and the whole world stop spinning.

"yeah, i need to thank my girl. if you see this, baby. i love you, m'racer girl and i miss you. this is for you, it's all for you. i know you're watching. i'll call you before you sleep." lando speaks into the cameras like he is replying to your text message. you doubt at first that he was actually talking to you until he called you his racer. you cannot believe he just said he love you in front of millions of people. you missed him a lot.

lando ends up calling you and admits yet again that he loves you and this time you say it back. you tell him about the crush you have had since you were fourteen, and he tells you about how much he misses you and wishes you were just there with him. the kiss lando gives you at the airport when you are both reunited is caught by many paps but you stopped caring the second your legs left the ground, wrapping around his waist as his tongue met yours.

you constantly appear on the quadrant channel, showing up all his friends in karting races and every single time lando tried to convice you to get back out.

"i'll leave it to the formula one grand prix winner i think." you smile at him, those words always got to him. he can't believe he got the car and the career he had always wanted. it was finally a win-win for lando, for once in his life.

[doberbutts]

I can't understand the idea that someone outside of an oppressed group cannot be victims of violence towards that oppressed group. That anon you deleted, the one who got mad and went "so cis people can experience transphobia!?!" Have you not read the news lately? What? What is happening to Imane Khalif right now? When you are past some arbitrary "acceptable range" of looks, behavior, etc., you become a target. As a cis woman who grew up in a conservative area, having "boyish interests" was enough for me to be subject to slurs and abuse. And it stuck around past that, because I have a small chest and broad shoulders, a long face. Whatever. Systems of oppression effect everyone under them because they all rely on "passing". You are required to reach a bar and to look and perform in certain ways and that bar is ever changing.

Well, that's why when someone was in my replies being upset that I asked how Khelif could be considered TME when transmisogyny was actively happening to her, one of the things I responded to said person was:

I don't understand how discussion the widespread effect of a systemic form of oppression and how it affects other things or is used as a weapon in other things, at all damages or erases the conversation that said systemic form of oppression is a problem. If anything, it's spreading further awareness.

I understand if the concern is that not enough people are caring about the trans women to whom transmisogyny happens on a regular basis, and are instead only ever caring about non trans fems and their relationship with being on the receiving end of transmisogyny. That is a problem, and it's one that does need to be talked about more often.

However I don't think any other form of oppression is specifically locked to only the people who identify as that oppressed demographic. Men experience misogyny. White people experience racism. Abled people experience ableism. "You throw like a girl" "you're not my daughter if you marry that black man" "what are you, deaf?" these are all things that are experienced by the "wrong" demographic, because in truth? The demographic doesn't matter.

These are systems we're talking about- the system of misogyny is what leads boys who fail to be masculine enough to be compared to girls as a way to state they are inferior, because the point is that with the system of misogyny, girls are inherently inferior to boys. Therefore, calling a boy a girl is calling him weaker, lesser, and not good enough.

The system of racism is what leads white parents to disown their children if their children date outside of their race. The point is that under the system of racism, interracial dating is seen as an aberration, and these racist parents then reject their own children for daring to love someone who is not white.

The system of ableism is what leads people to make comparisons to disability when bringing up someone's shortcomings. Disabled people are largely seen as failures in abled society, so by pointing to disability whenever faced with what is perceived as inadequacy, the system of ableism operates to continue to associate being disabled with worthlessness, and being abled with having worth.

Hell, it was not that long ago that "gay" and "retarded" were used as synonyms for "bad" and "stupid". Some people still use these words that way. It was a fucking Rick and Morty joke a few years ago, this isn't ancient history.

So when I'm told that I don't experience a system of oppression based solely on my labeled demographic and not on my actual lived experience, my immediate first thought is "that's not how systems of oppression work, literally everyone experiences these things in different ways, because that's what is meant when we call something systemic, it means the entire fucking system is built around this as a crux of logic"

Which is very weird to me then when someone tells me that by saying Khelif is/was experiencing transmisogyny, I'm erasing trans women. How? I genuinely don't understand how that's possible when I'm saying that the explicit hatred and fear of the trans woman boogeyman is what led us here in the first place. I am saying "this comes directly from people pushing transmisogynistic rulings for years and was always going to be the end result when they finally excluded all the actual trans women". I'm saying "it was bad logic when applied to trans women and it's bad logic even now, being applied to a [self-identified] perisex cisgender 'biological' woman and we should have put our foot down about it years ago when trans women and intersex women were actually competing".

Transmisogyny is a system of oppression. The system is functioning normally even when it fires at targets it's "not supposed to". That's what happens under systemic oppression. That's a feature, not a bug.

[spacemothsota]

How big can cyberformed humans get? There has to be a point where they can grow to be as big as a normal Cybertronian. If they stayed the same size they were, it would be harder for them to assimilate despite being the size of a minion or cassette.

Hi Anon! Great question!

In fact, Cyberformed humans never remain human-sized. They are full-fledged Cybertronians. In "Part 2", the last point "Pre-bot", I already wrote that the bodies of former humans are formed with their individual characteristics. This means that he will be like a full-fledged Cybertronian, the size and body depend solely on his frame type (but with an individual design, model, and only some details can be inherited from the one who donated nanites). If a person is strong and powerful, and in the early stages he gets tank parts, most likely he will be the size of a tank. It all depends on the frame, of course, if a person consumed too many nanites of one frame during infection, there is a chance that he will become exactly this kind of Cybertronian (for example, this happened to Alexis, she is a seeker. Starscream is extremely proud of himself). A person, in general, inherits features along with the frame, for example, the fact that seekers need society and are afraid of tight spaces (for a former person, this can be an extremely unexpected phenomenon if he did not suffer from such phobias before). In fact, Cybertronians do not quite understand what exactly determines the predisposition to a particular type of frame in people. So when a person goes through the last stage, some Autobots make bets on who exactly the former person will be.

People grow during the "Pre-bot" phase as if in a dream, they are surrounded by energon and the necessary elements for growth, which is why the flasks change in the process. Roughly speaking, everything starts with a human-sized flask (probably a little larger), but the larger the former human's body becomes, the more spacious the flask they are changed to continue growing. Why aren't they immediately placed in a larger growth flask? This is so that the body does not rush to build up everything at once, the slow growth process helps to fully form all the systems slowly and gradually. (It goes without saying that compared to the Autobots and Decepticons who have been through a war for millions of years, cyberformed bots are the healthiest and not exhausted by wounds and damage). Simply put, by the time they wake up, their bodies are already ready and they do not need to go through the growth stages of humans and other organic species.

In short, they can be quite large (assuming they are not minicons or cassettes themselves, of course, but there are several minicons among the Cyberformed). And in anticipation of questions, I prepared a list of frames and people. So you can estimate who is what size (I will try to arrange them in the height list, but some Cyberformed bots may be, well… Larger than expected. Well, like… A truck is not all the same, remember. Because for example, Optimus, Motormaster and Sentinel are trucks, but most likely they have a difference in height).

List of frames and characters:

Tanks: William Lennox, Robert Epps, Agent William Fowler Trucks: Cade Yeager, Jack Darby, Red Seekers: Alexis, Chip Chase, Sara Lennox (I'm not sure). Scout-Class Space Satellite: Rafael Esqivel (he's about the size of Soundwave, maybe a little shorter, but not much) Cars: Carly, Mikaela Banes, Sam Witwicky, Tessa Yeager, Charlie Watson (minicon), Miko Nakaday, Verity Carlo, Danny Clay (he's just a car, but to Junkion's he's one of them) bro) Race Cars: Shane Dyson, Raoul, Noah Diaz Helicopter: Seymour Simmons

Rescue Bots: · Charlie Burns - police car · Kade Burns - fire truck · Graham Burns - engineering vehicle (haven't decided on a model yet) · Dani Burns - medical helicopter · Cody Burns - forestry helicopter Mining Equipment (other production): Sparkplug Witwicky, Spike Witwicky Insecticon: June Darby (moth type: Argema mittrei) Dinobot: Daniel Witwicky (minicon, he transforms into Galimim) Beastbot: Russel Clay (minicon, transforms into a cybercat, probably a more bigger than Ravage)

This is a list of those with whom I have more or less decided, of course there are those whose frames I have not decided on in their list: Isaac Sumdac, Sari Sumdac (she will probably be a minicon), Green Family (Doc. Green, Fransin, Professor Baranova, Sisi), Woodrow Burns and Izabella.

You may not agree with my choice and have your own idea of ​​what this or that character transforms into (this is normal). When I make articles about characters with their design and model, perhaps there will be a little more clarity. I will also write what this or that character does on Diego Garcia.

For the rest, to understand what Cyberform AU is: Character List Lore parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Answers to questions: Q&A1, Q&A2