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therealpie02 · 2 days ago

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pov: this is your first time sleeping in the same bed

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ colonel!Caleb / fem!mc, gege&pipsqueak, angst, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, squirting

You woke up in the middle of the night because warmth next to you disappeared. You opened eyes and saw Caleb's silhouette. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked out at the city, breathing heavily. Did he have a nightmare? You carefully got up and approached him from behind.

He tensed as he sensed your approach, his breathing heavy and erratic. When your soft footsteps drew near, Caleb turned his head slightly, the moonlight catching the glint of unshed tears in his eyes.

"Couldn't sleep?", his voice was rough, tinged with pain and exhaustion.

You sat down next to him. Your hand gently touched the spot where the robotic arm merged with the skin of his shoulder. You were afraid to imagine how much pain he had to go through. Your hand went to his cheek and turned his head towards you.

"You're strong, Caleb."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes finally meeting yours. The raw emotion in his gaze was palpable.

"Strong enough to feel every scar, every piece of metal that replaced flesh and blood", he paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But not strong enough to forget the man I used to be."

You stood up between his legs without breaking eye contact with him. His head was at the level of your chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck.

"May I kiss your scars?", you whispered.

His breath hitched at your words, and he closed his eyes briefly, as if the weight of your question was almost too much to bear. When he opened them again, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that he rarely showed.

"Yes," he whispered back, his voice barely audible.

You kissed his wet forehead. You lowered head to kiss the unshaven scar on his neck. His hands gently rested on your waist. You kissed his collarbone, his shoulder, where there were many scars from the introduction of a robotic arm.

He shuddered under your touch, each kiss a gentle balm to his wounded soul. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, not pulling you closer but holding onto you as if you were his lifeline. When you kissed the scars where his robotic arm met his flesh, he let out a soft, ragged breath.

You felt him shudder. Your gaze met his. You kissed his chin. "Caleb... should I continue?"

He gazed into your eyes, a war raging behind his dark pupils. The vulnerability was still there, tinged now with a flicker of hope, of needing connection amidst his personal Hell.

"Please," he whispered, the word a broken plea. "Kiss away the ache, even if only for tonight."

"No, Caleb. I'm yours, I'll always be with you." Even though you didn't fully believe your words, you wanted him to feel better. You sat on his hips and brought your face so close that you could feel his breath on your lips.

"Kiss me, gege", his eyes darkened, and his hands gripped your thighs possessively.

"You have no idea how dangerous that is," he growled softly. "One kiss might not be enough." He captured your mouth slowly, deeply, his robotic arm pulling you closer almost painfully. The kiss was hungry, almost punishing.

You felt the familiar lips on yours, the familiar heat between your legs. Caleb has never kissed you like this. You could barely take a breath. You didn't even realize that you were rocking hips towards him and feeling his cock through the fabric of your pajamas. You moaned into his mouth.

He groaned in response, the sound vibrating through both of you. His robotic arm tightened around your waist, pressing you firmly against him. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate. He broke away briefly, his forehead resting against yours as he panted softly.

"I've missed this", you didn't have time to reply anything as you suddenly found yourself on back. He hovered over you, his body pressing against yours as he propped himself up on one elbow. His robotic arm gently cupped your cheek, his human hand gripping your hip. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation or fear. "Last chance to stop this, pipsqueak"

Was you scared? Maybe. You didn't know what to expect from the new Caleb. But you didn't want to back down.

"You can tie me up so I don't run away," you said with a grin. Your nipples were already hard and visible through your satin top. A smirk tugged at his lips as he drank in the sight of your hardened nipples straining against the thin fabric.

"Smartass," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. Suddenly, the robotic fingers released your cheek, moving lightning-fast to pin your wrists above your head. You sighed in surprise.. and pleasure. You bit my lip and lifted your hips to slide over his cock.

Caleb growled softly, watching your body writhe beneath his. The robotic fingers tightened around your wrists possessively. His human hand slid down your body slowly, making you shiver. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pajama shorts and your tank top, "Lift up," he ordered softly and you obeyed.

In one smooth motion, he pulled both your top and shorts down to your thighs, revealing your bare skin. He moved down your body, kissing your collarbone while his robotic fingers kept your wrists securely pinned above your head. His human hand trailed lower, grazing the side of your breast.

You moaned and you hands twitched, but he held on tight. "Caleb, do you like it?" you asked brokenly. He paused, his breath hot against your skin.

"Like it?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "I fucking love it. Seeing you helpless under me, hearing those sweet little moans... it drives me fucking wild." He pinched your nipple gently, testing your reaction. You screamed, your pussy was eager, but you didn't know what else Caleb was up to.

"Caleb... Caleb, I need you."

He chuckled darkly, moving even lower. "Need me, huh?" He nipped at your stomach, his human hand sliding down to grip your hip possessively. His robotic fingers finally released your wrists, moving to spread your legs wide. "Tell me what you need," he demanded softly.

"Fuck me with your cock," you screamed, unable to endure his torture. "I haven't seen you for so long! Please, Caleb.… Did you miss me?" you saw the sad mood in his eyes.

His expression turned serious. "Course I missed you," he growled, positioning himself between your thighs. Caleb nudged his knee between your legs, forcing them even wider. "Say it again," he ordered roughly.

"Fuck me!" You shouted, and then you felt a slap on your pussy. You groaned.

"Not like that," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Tell me you missed me too." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. "Tell me you thought about me every night, touching yourself and wishing it was my hands, my mouth, my cock."

You trembled from the sensations. "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you. I don't care, Caleb, you're you, I trust you."

"Like this?" He lowered his pants, snapped his hips forward suddenly, pushing his length inside you an inch. "Did you touch yourself like this?" He withdrew slightly, thrusting again. "Or like this?" He picked up speed, testing how you'd react to his rough handling. His robotic fingers spread your legs wider. You were burning from the feeling of his cock inside you. You were suffocating.

"Fuck, Caleb," your hands went up to his chest.

He caught your hands, pinning them above your head with his human hand. His robotic arm snaked down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and circling it firmly. "You're so tight," he groaned, bottoming out inside you. "So fucking perfect."

There were so many sensations that you couldn't stand it. You moaned with every thrust he made into you. His cock found my sweet spot. "Caleb, I'm going to cum..."

"Come for me," Caleb growled, maintaining his pace. "Show me how much you fucking love my cock inside you." His robotic fingers moved faster on your clit, knowing exactly how you liked to be touched. His human hand kept your wrists secure above your head. "Look at me,"you looked into his eyes. Into his beautiful eyes. Damn it, you missed him so much.

"Caleb, I’m…" you didn't have time to finish, as pleasure washed over you in a wave. You moaned and felt hot and wet between our bodies. Squirting flowed out of you onto his abs, cock, and onto the sheets. Caleb watched you with pure obsession, his expression softening as he felt your squirt wash over his abdomen. "Fucking hell," he groaned, his own release hitting him suddenly. He pumped his hips forward, filling you with his hot cum as he moaned your name.

Caleb leaned on you with his whole body, and you hugged him, stroking his shoulders and head. His cock was still inside you, and you wanted us to stay like this all night. You felt his measured breathing on your neck.

"Caleb, let's sleep like this," you quietly suggested to him, enjoying the warmth of his naked body.

He nuzzled into your neck, his arms wrapping around you possessively. "Mm," He murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Okay," He agreed, his robotic arm pulling the blanket over both of their entwined bodies. Caleb felt content, safe, and complete.

#lnds caleb #caleb x mc #colonel caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb fluff #caleb x reader #caleb x reader fluff #lads caleb #lads fluff #lads smut #caleb smut #caleb x reader smut #lads angst #lads spoilers #lads mc #lads x reader #caleb x you

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anghimalaaynasapuso · 2 days ago

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Your work is amazing, I love the way you interpret Simon’s personality and speech patterns in the prosthetic arm Simon fic.❤️

hello, anon! thank you so much for the kind words. i just wanted to take this opportunity to post this deleted part of prosthetic arm simon.

sfw. angst (?). highschool dropout simon. shame.

the prosthetic is finished.

it fits like a second skin. moves smooth, seamless, with no lag between thought and motion. it’s perfect. better than anything he could’ve gotten himself. better than the overpriced models he looked at years ago, wondering if he could stomach the debt just to feel normal again.

and for a moment, as he flexes his fingers, as he watches the metal articulate like flesh, he feels… proud. proud of you, of your work, of the precision in every detail. he turns his hand over, watching the way the joints move, the faint hum of technology so advanced he still doesn’t fully understand it.

but then— the thought creeps in, unbidden, unwelcome.

his throat tightens.

does this mean he doesn’t have an excuse to see you anymore?

his fingers still, mid-motion.

the past few months have been good. better than he expected. seeing you, talking to you, getting to know you beyond the surface-level interactions he usually keeps with people.

but now?

now there’s no more check-ups. no more adjustments. no more need for him to stop by so you can make small tweaks, run diagnostics, ensure everything’s running smoothly.

simon swallows, something cold curling in his chest. he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. that if he really wanted to see you, he could just— just call, just text, just ask.

but that’s not how he works.

he’s spent so long just coasting with people. staying at arm’s length, keeping interactions simple, necessary, easy to walk away from.

but you? you’re not easy to walk away from.

“you did good,” he says, and he means it. he just hopes you can’t hear everything else under it.

you don’t seem to notice his unease, too excited as you bounce on your heels, practically beaming.

“oh- i have news!”

he blinks. tries to steady himself. “yeah?"

“my thesis got picked to be presented at congress!”

it takes him a second. longer than it should. he hears the words, knows what they mean, but they feel far away, like his mind is still caught in the spiral from before.

but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, the pure joy on your face, and something inside him lurches

“shit,” he breathes. “that’s- that’s incredible.”

and it is. you deserve this. you deserve more than this.

he shows up to the congress.

he doesn’t tell you he’s coming. he doesn’t even decide until the last minute, standing in front of his closet, staring at the one half-decent button-up he owns.

but then he’s there, standing outside the venue, and he brings flowers.

he’s never done that before. never even bought flowers before, really. but he stands outside the venue, fingers tight around the cheap bouquet, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

he feels out of place.

too big, too rough, too obviously not part of the sleek, academic crowd milling around in suits and dresses. he tugs at his sleeves, shifting his weight, half-ready to just leave the flowers somewhere and go before—

then he sees you. scanning the crowd, eyes searching.

and when you spot him— you light up.

like he’s supposed to be here. like he’s not just some guy who stumbled in, unsure if he even belongs in moments like these.

you rush over, practically colliding into him, and he barely has time to react before you’re grabbing the flowers, pressing your face into them, laughing breathlessly.

“you came.”

his throat works. he clears it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“’course i did,” he mutters.

you smile.

…

he knew this was a bad idea.

he knew from the moment he walked into the restaurant, stiff in his chair, palm sweating against the napkin in his lap.

knew when you slid into the seat across from him, looking bright and effortless and so at ease, still glowing from your big presentation, still beaming about the congress.

knew when he looked down at the menu and realized he didn’t recognize half the words on it.

simon’s spent years in places like this— quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of good food and low conversation. but he’s always been alone. always sat in a corner with his back to the wall, a meal in front of him and no one expecting him to talk.

but now— now there’s you.

and you’re talking, telling him about the congress, about the people you met, the questions they asked. you sound so fucking excited, like the whole world is opening up in front of you, and simon—

simon just nods.

he doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know how to keep up.

he’s never been smart like you. never been the type to sit in lecture halls, to write papers, to stand in front of a room full of academics and present something that matters.

he barely finished school. left home at sixteen, signed his life away at eighteen, spent more years holding a gun than a pen.

simon’s just good at breaking it.

he doesn’t belong in places like this. doesn’t belong next to you. you who's all bright ideas and ambition, the kind of person who builds things, who makes the world better.

he shifts in his seat, hyper-aware of how he looks— broad shoulders hunched awkwardly, big hands clumsy against the silverware, a goddamn mutt at a dinner table.

he wonders if you notice. if you see it. if you realize you could do better.

your food arrives. you thank the waiter, pick up your fork—

and before you can even take a bite, it slips out.

“i-”

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth.

simon grips his napkin under the table, flexes his fingers, heart thudding heavy in his ribs.

he shouldn’t ask. should just let this be a nice dinner, let you go home, let you move on.

but—

“would you…” he swallows, throat dry, stomach tight.

he shouldn’t ask.

“would you want to go on a date with me?”

the words hit the table like lead.

silence.

he doesn’t breathe. doesn’t move. because fuck, he actually said it.

and now there’s nothing but the space between you, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of cutlery against plates—

and you. staring at him.

he braces for rejection. tells himself it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“yeah,” you say, voice light with something he can’t name. “i would.”

his stomach drops.

relief. disbelief. something dangerously close to hope.

he exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders. nods, just once, like he’s acknowledging an order. like his hands aren’t trembling under the table.

“okay,” he mutters.

then, quieter—

“good.”

#📌 simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #📥 mail

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josiebelladonna · 3 days ago

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^that last one made me think of stranger things. Remember back in 2022 how fucking ubiquitous, pervasive, and inescapable that season was (and to the point it was starting to piss me off because none of the kids look like kids anymore, it was sneaking into tags it had no business sneaking into, and it felt like it was becoming more about the music than… actually being watchable and having a memorable storyline, god forbid—granted, it was one of the best soundtracks in a long time, but it came as a bonus in the first two seasons, so that’s not the point)? Now, I’ll see some offhand fics here and there in the fanfic tags, but that’s about it—add to this, everything I see about this final season is, um… don’t get your hopes up. In other words, I fully expect there to be an avalanche of fix-it fics and more fics surrounding Eddie Muenster whatever his name is once the season hits, and then it’ll disappear again.

I guess last year there was a rebirth of the House, M.D. fandom, a fandom which I didn’t even know existed when I was watching that show when it was going and even when it ended back in 2012. Key phrase there is “last year”: I haven’t seen anything about it since like November.

Dan and Phil is another one. I don’t have any idea who they are (I could never get into YouTubers) but every other post on my dash now is about them, and all I can think is “I won’t see them two months from now.”

You also have the strange case of me: start a previously not-catalogued fandom from the ground up and it goes well for a few months, and then something happens to me where I need to speak out, and then all of a sudden POOF! Everyone loses respect and I feel like I have to leave after a time, even if I’m still very much in the zone—especially if I’m still very much in the zone. “Ew, no, she’s obsessed and delusional and unstable, let’s start our own hub in another place and do better than her.” Yeah, and then your bullshit ____ x reader fics from last summer fall by the wayside whereas one of my longfics which I started back in 2022 is still rolling because I’m not callous enough to do it for spite.

They cannibalize the fandom and also the people who make it. They treat it like it’s a thing to be consumed and given to their peers, hence the popularity of the “reader insert” fanfic (which I hate with a passion for this reason), and someone like me, someone who’s actually a fan, is seen as a psychopath, not realizing that this is killing fandom and making the “creator” feel (ab)used. I soldier on because I’m a fan and I love the men involved, dammit.

More used feelings by calling me a “creator”, too, as that is a word that is thrown around way too lightly and shortchanges someone like me by glossing over our craft. I’m an artist and a writer and a baker, I am NOT a creator.

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woozinhos · 3 days ago

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why do i think mingyu has a thing for size difference like have you seen his reaction when carat’s hands are smaller than his😦😦

Notes: wrote this little Drabble hope you enjoy 🤭

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Mingyu's back was pressed against the wall, his chest heaving as you knelt in front of him. Your small hands were wrapped around his thick cock, struggling to cover even half of it.

"Fuck, your hands are so tiny," he moaned, looking down at you with a mix of amusement and desire. "I can't believe they're actually holding me." You smirked and began to stroke him slowly, your fingers barely touching as you moved up and down his shaft.

"What's wrong, Mingyu?" you teased. "Can't handle a little size difference?" Mingyu let out a low growl, his hips bucking up into your touch. "It's not that," he said, his voice strained. "It's just... you look so small and delicate holding me like that. I feel like I could break you."

You chuckled and squeezed him gently, relishing in the way he gasped at the sensation. "I'm tougher than I look, you know," you replied, your thumb circling the head of his cock. "I can handle you just fine." Mingyu's head fell back against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut as you continued to work him over. "I don't doubt that," he said, his voice husky. "But it's still a sight to see. Your little hands trying so hard to take me all in."

You leaned forward and licked a stripe up his shaft, your tongue flicking over the tip. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you asked, looking up at him with a smirk. "You like feeling big and powerful." Mingyu nodded, his hands coming down to rest on your head. "I do," he admitted, his fingers tangling in your hair. "I love the way you look up at me with those big eyes, struggling to please me."

He gently pushed your head down, urging you to take more of him into your mouth. "Come on, baby," he coaxed. "Show me how good you are at using those tiny hands and that little mouth of yours." You obeyed his command, taking as much of him as you could into your mouth. Your jaw stretched wide as you tried to accommodate his size, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Mingyu groaned in approval, his grip on your hair tightening. "That's it," he praised. "Just like that. You're doing so well for me." He started to guide your head up and down, using you like a toy for his pleasure. The feeling of being controlled and used by him was driving you wild, and you moaned around his cock.

Mingyu smirked down at you, noticing how much you were enjoying this. "Look at you, so eager to please," he teased. "Using your mouth and hands at the same time. You're a natural." He let go of your head, allowing you to set the pace again. You bobbed up and down, your hands working in tandem with your mouth as you stroked and squeezed his shaft.

Mingyu's moans grew louder, his breathing becoming ragged as he neared his climax once more. "I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice thick with desire. "You better be ready to take it all." You looked up at him with determination in your eyes, wanting to make him cum harder than ever before. You increased your speed, your hands and mouth working in perfect unison to bring him to the edge.

"That's it, baby, just like that," he groaned, his body tensing up again. "I'm gonna fill that pretty little mouth of yours." With a final, guttural moan, Mingyu came undone. His hot seed spilled into your mouth, coating your tongue and throat as you struggled to swallow it all. You swallowed as much as you could, but some of it spilled out the corners of your mouth and dribbled down your chin. Mingyu watched you with a satisfied smile, his chest heaving as he came down from his high.

"Such a messy girl," he teased, using his thumb to wipe the excess cum from your chin. "But you took it so well." He pulled you up, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. "You're perfect," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Absolutely perfect."

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ari-ana-bel-la · 2 days ago

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Hey, love your fics!! Can you write one where max’s and charles’ little girls meet at the paddock and become friends over the course of the season and they really want to meet each other during the summer break so they have a cute play date

Best Friends Forever

The sun was warm against their skin as Max leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out with a satisfied sigh. The paddock buzzed with energy, the distant hum of engines being prepped for the weekend mingling with the occasional burst of laughter from the mechanics. Next to him, Kelly adjusted her sunglasses, keeping a watchful eye on their daughter, Penelope, who was happily bouncing a bright pink ball against the pavement.

“She’s going to wear herself out before lunch,” Max murmured, amused, watching as Penelope chased after the ball with the endless energy only a six-year-old could possess.

Kelly chuckled softly. “Better now than during the press conference. You remember what happened last time.”

Max groaned, shaking his head. “Don’t remind me. I’m still recovering from that.”

Their easy conversation was interrupted when Kelly spotted a familiar figure approaching from the other side of the paddock. “Look,” she said softly, nudging Max’s arm.

Max followed her gaze, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw Charles walking toward them, his five-year-old daughter, Yn, clutching his hand tightly. Charles, ever patient, adjusted his steps to match Yn’s smaller ones, walking slowly to keep her from having to run. Yn’s brown hair bounced slightly with each step, and her bright eyes were fixed on Penelope playing with the ball.

When they reached them, Kelly stood up to greet them warmly. “Charles! And Yn!” Her voice softened as she crouched down, pressing a gentle kiss to Yn’s forehead. “You look so pretty today, sweetheart.”

Yn blushed slightly, hiding her face against her father’s leg.

Max, still seated, reached out to stroke her hair gently. “Hi, little one,” he said in a soft, affectionate tone. “You having fun with your Papa today?”

Yn gave a small nod, her fingers curling tighter around Charles’ hand.

Charles smiled down at her before encouraging her quietly in French. “Dis bonjour, ma chérie.”

With a shy glance upward, Yn whispered, “Bonjour,” her accent soft and sweet.

“She’s getting better at saying hello,” Max teased lightly, his smile widening.

Charles rolled his eyes playfully but couldn’t hide his pride. “She’s working on it. Right, ma puce?” He leaned down a little, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Go on. Ask them what you wanted to ask.”

Yn hesitated for a moment, her small teeth tugging at her lower lip before she finally gathered the courage to speak. “Um… Can I… Can I play with Penelope?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but her hopeful expression was clear.

Before Kelly or Max could answer, Penelope, ever the enthusiastic one, ran over in excitement. “Can she, please? Please, Mama? Dad? It’s boring playing alone!” She clapped her hands together, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Kelly laughed softly, exchanging a glance with Max, both of them unable to resist their daughter’s pleading. “Of course,” she said warmly. “Just be careful, okay?”

Penelope squealed with excitement, immediately grabbing Yn’s hand. “Come on! I’ll show you how to bounce the ball really high!”

Yn let herself be pulled along, casting a shy but grateful glance over her shoulder at her father. Charles gave her an encouraging smile, his heart warming at the sight of her slowly coming out of her shell.

“They’re going to tire themselves out,” Max said, shaking his head as he watched the two girls run to the grassy area nearby, their giggles filling the air.

“That’s the goal, isn’t it?” Charles chuckled, settling into the seat beside Max.

The two men fell into easy conversation while Kelly leaned back comfortably, occasionally glancing toward the girls. Penelope, always full of ideas, was now showing Yn her collection of colorful bracelets, proudly sliding one off her wrist to give to her new friend. Yn accepted it with wide eyes, holding it carefully as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“She’s brave to ask,” Max remarked after a while, his tone soft with admiration.

Charles smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on his daughter. “She’s been wanting to play with Penelope for a while now. It took her some time to work up the courage.” His chest swelled with pride seeing Yn laughing freely, her usual shyness melting away under Penelope’s infectious energy.

“She’s doing great,” Max said sincerely, giving Charles a friendly nudge. “And P’s loving it. She’s been asking for someone to play with all week.”

The conversation drifted from family to racing and back again, the atmosphere light and easy. Through it all, the two girls remained inseparable—Yn showed Penelope how to weave tiny flower crowns from the wildflowers along the edge of the paddock, while Penelope proudly taught Yn how to spin the ball on her fingertips.

By the time the sun began to dip lower in the sky, painting everything in warm golden hues, the girls came running back, hand in hand, their faces flushed with happiness.

“Dad! Dad!” Penelope called out first, dragging Yn toward the group of drivers gathered nearby. Charles and Max stood next to Lando and Oscar, their laughter echoing through the paddock.

Charles knelt as the girls reached him, his hands resting on Yn’s shoulders. “What is it, ma chérie?”

Penelope took the lead, her words tumbling out in an excited rush. “Can Yn and I see each other during the summer break? Please? We’ll die if we can’t!”

Yn nodded vigorously, her braids bouncing. “Please, Papa,” she added softly, glancing up at Charles with her big, hopeful eyes.

Max let out a laugh, ruffling Penelope’s hair. “Dying might be a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Penelope shook her head fiercely. “No, we will,” she insisted, clinging tightly to Yn’s hand as if letting go would make her vanish.

Charles, his heart melting at his daughter’s earnest expression, exchanged a glance with Max. “I think we can arrange a playdate,” he said, his voice warm.

“Definitely,” Max agreed without hesitation. “Maybe a beach day or something?”

“That sounds perfect,” Charles said, giving Yn a reassuring squeeze.

The moment the words left his mouth, the girls erupted into joyful squeals, bouncing on their toes.

“Thank you, Dad! Thank you, Charles!” Penelope cheered before tugging Yn toward the hospitality area. “Come on, let’s get juice!”

The adults watched them go, their laughter lingering in the air long after they disappeared.

“They’re going to be trouble together,” Max said, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“Maybe,” Charles mused, a soft smile on his lips. “But I’m glad Yn found a friend like Penelope.”

“And I’m glad P found her,” Max added, his voice filled with warmth.

As the paddock buzzed with preparations for the last race before the summer break, two little girls had already claimed their victory—finding a friendship that promised to last a lifetime.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed this story. My requests are always open for you. In my opinion, Penelope is already Max daughter.

-💙🦋

#f1 drivers as fathers #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x daughter!reader #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x daughter!reader #charles leclerc x reader #dad!charles leclerc #leclerc!reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #penelope verstappen #💙🦋

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mggslover · 2 days ago

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Reflections pt. 2

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her.

PART 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst x hurt/comfort Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers since i’m not on that season yet, can contain inaccuracies), reader cuts longer hair short, guns, reader isn’t the best person, emotional, vague mentions of sa and suicide, kidnapping, fade to black smut (so suggestive content) Word count: 5,8k A/n: turning a supposed to be one shot into a series is more difficult than i anticipated lol. i’m hoping you guys will enjoy this part as much as the first one :) i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Vibrant flashes of the pixelated scenes on TV reflected against the motel room walls. You were reminded of how your mother always used to say that watching television in the dark is damaging to your eyes. You never doubted her. Never felt the need to confirm her words by looking it up. It’s in human nature to trust one another. It is only when someone betrays you — or when you betray them — that trust gets damaged. You sit on the edge of the bed, mindlessly picking at the loose printing of the Caltech shirt you’re wearing — Spencer’s Caltech shirt — as you watch the umpteenth news segment since you left the state. “Authorities are still on the lookout for a suspect following the poisoning of three men. The men were murdered at a college reunion that took place inside a bar, their bodies found just a street away. These promising young men had bright futures ahead of them, which were brutally robbed by this suspect–“

The screen flickered to your passport picture, showing a list of your physical descriptions on the right.

“She’s believed to be armed and dangerous. Please, come forward if you have any information on her possible whereabouts. The FBI have stated that they will not stop their search until they have the suspect in custody. Justice will be served.”

With a scoff, you grab the remote, the screen fading to black with a simple click of your thumb.

Young promising men, my ass. Hearing that sentence out loud left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, burning your throat as you swallowed. You let out a deep exhale, your body falling back onto the hard mattress with a thud, allowing the darkness to envelop you as your thoughts swirled through your head.

Your whole life you had run away from the things that scared you, preferring to flee than live with the reality of the situation. You’d made the conscious decision to change your behaviour once you had decided to walk into that bar. But one thing led to another, and without being aware of it at the moment, you’d found yourself in the same situation: fleeing. Only this time around, it was different. This time you were on the run. And it wasn’t a question of if, but of when you’d be caught.

Ignoring the remorseless pounding in your head, you roll over the mattress. The cheap sheets rustled underneath you in protest as you threw your legs off the side. Your hand patted the bedside table until you felt the switch on the night lamp, turning it on. The room, as a result, illuminates in a soft, golden glow.

Your eyes adjusted to the light, slowly taking in your surroundings. You noticed a large bookshelf against the right wall that you swore you hadn't seen before. Although your mind had been so clouded these past days that it wouldn’t be strange if you looked over it. Curiosity got the better of you, and with steady steps, you walked toward it. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. The words played in your head as your fingers grazed against the dusty spines. When the melody came to its natural halt, you grabbed the book that your finger had landed on.

Gone Girl.

You scoffed a breathy laugh, “Obviously.” You held the book mockingly in the air, giving an ironic nod and tight-lipped smile toward the ceiling. “Thanks, universe.”

The irony hit you as you flipped through the pages. Maybe you’re more like the protagonist—Amy Dune—than you’d like to admit. Always having the need to orchestrate the outcome of your life, selfish enough to not care about the consequences it has for others. What if the universe is not trying to mock you, but merely giving you a hint? Were you supposed to change your appearance? It worked for Amy.

Your feet carried you to the stuffy bathroom, the book still in hand. With your elbow, you turned on the light switch, cringing when you saw yourself in the mirror. The only sleep you’d gotten in the past days was in Spencer’s arms, and damn was it a good sleep.

Sleeping with an FBI-agent sounded like a good plan. Well… at least to you. What are the chances of being a suspect in a crime, not being believed by anyone, and then being interrogated by a man who had heart eyes for you? There was no other option than to play into it, and you thanked yourself for taking those theater classes in high school.

However, it wasn’t all a ploy. It affected you to have someone be so gentle with you, to have an absolute stranger care so much for your well-being. And when you kissed him… you knew your heart was involved too.

Still, your brain overpowered your feelings. The second you woke up, you knew you had to leave. They already knew about Natalie, and the more time you gave them, the more dirt they’d find on you. Taking that gun? Call it a precaution. Hijacking a car to get to the motel? Well, you stole it from a hobo. Could’ve been worse.

“God,” you groaned, thinking back on the events of the past few days. You rubbed your eyes and dramatically slid your hands down your face.

Your eyes landed on the nail clipper placed on the sink. This is so, so bad. You placed the book down, then picked the item up, circling the cool metal around your fingers. The ghost of your face reflected back at you in the mirror. Oh, your hairdresser will kill you. But who will care if you’ll be locked away in prison, anyway? At least your humor was still working.

You brought the clipper to the ends of your hair, your thumb pressing down as you cut a lock. The sound sent shivers to your spine, a sour face impaled on you.

“I swear to god Amy, don’t fail me with this,” you mumbled to the sky in a prayer.

-`♡´-

3 Days Ago

Being frustrated was an understatement for the way Spencer was feeling.

Once he left the bedroom, it took him less than a second to notice the slight gap between the cupboard doors. His pulse quickened, he stood frozen for a moment as he felt a tight knot form in his stomach. In a sudden rush, his senses came back to him. He took a leap toward the cupboard, slamming the doors open, and to his suspicion, he found the safe unlocked. His gun vanished in the same way as you had.

He couldn’t help the string of curses that escaped his lips. His hands reached through his hair, tugging at the loose curls as his mind raced in every possible direction, none of them making sense.

How could he have been so stupid? He’s a profiler, for Christ’ sake. It’s his job to read people, to see through their lies. His cheeks heated in embarrassment, recalling the disapproving looks of his team members when he told you that he believed in your innocence.

You were innocent. At least, that’s what he thought. Now he wasn’t sure anymore. An innocent person wouldn’t run, and they especially wouldn’t steal the gun of a federal agent while they’re at it.

He thought back on your arrest. It happened quickly. The team had received a call from someone at the reunion who had been taking a smoke break in an alley near the bar, the first to discover the bodies. Finding you was simple. Your behavior was suspicious on the camera footage. You looked nervous as you walked into the bar, wiping your clammy hands on your dress, scanning the room as if in search of something. When your eyes landed on the three men, your gaze grew cold. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots when you rushed out of the emergency exit right after the men had accepted their poison-filled drinks.

But now it was a completely different story. You could be anywhere. The uncertainty gnawed at him. He felt responsible for this, even though it wasn’t his decision to let you go. He’d been insistent on getting you out of that interrogation room as fast as he could. The guilt pressed down on him, the pressure on his ribcage accumulating with every second that passed. Every second that he didn’t do anything was another chance for you to run. Spencer had no choice but to call Hotch as he stepped into his Volvo. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t know what you were capable of.

Spencer made sure to evade Derek’s sharp glances as he walked through the bullpen, headed straight for the small flight of stairs.

Hotch was standing at the door frame, waiting on him. He never had experienced being scolded by his parents, but this sure seemed like a similar situation. Spencer swallowed, his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, trying to hide his nerves as he braced himself for the words that were about to follow.

“I’ve informed the rest of the team,” Hotch explained, his eyebrows edged in an irritated frown. “The only reason that you’re on this case is because you could give personal insight into the unsub. We’ll discuss this afterward,” he added in a warning tone, “Behaviour like this is not tolerated.”

“I know,” Spencer muttered, his voice coming out hoarse. I don’t agree, but I understand. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. His body leaned forward, head tilted as he called the team to gather around the round table.

“Man, you slept with her?!”

Derek hadn’t even properly sat down before the criticizing jabs slipped out. The tone was instantly set, an awkward tension lingering thick in the air.

Spencer’s mouth opened, his fingers flexing, but before he could respond, Emily rose from her seat. “It’s in the past. Right now, we should focus on finding her before she’ll devolve.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. This discussion was pointless; there was no time to lose. “Garcia, can you go over her documents again?”

“Of course, sir. Uh, let’s see–,” her purple colored nails tapped against the keyboard of her laptop. “She hasn’t been very active in the last few years. Most activity was during college. She majored in chemistry.”

Spencer’s heart did a jump at the mention of chemistry. He barely got the chance to ask you about yourself, and he was fighting the urge to ask Penelope for more information, wondering what else you’d have in common.

“Wait a minute,” Spencer wondered out loud when his brain made the connection. “Chemistry.”

“The victims were poisoned,” Rossi noted, connecting the dots.

Spencer suppressed the rising nausea by forcing his eyes shut. His knee tremored, anxiously tapping against the underside of the table. He really didn’t know you, did he?

Hotch’s furrow deepened. “Another confirmation that she’s the one we’re looking for.” He turned to Garcia, “Did we receive the results from the lab?”

“Not yet, sir. But this is interesting though,” her nails continued their rhythmic clicking. “She dropped out of college a couple of months before graduating.”

“You wouldn’t just do that,” Rossi mused. “Can you find any reasoning in her archives?”

Penelope shook her head. “Not really. The whole thing seemed pretty sudden. She had good grades.”

Hotch leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Let’s look at victimology.”

“Okay, so we got Shaun Dallas, Eric Zimmer and Nathan Johns. Tight buddies throughout college and they still seemed to be according to social media. Different majors, none of them chemistry.”

“She seemed disgusted when I brought them up,” Derek added, referencing your interrogation. “Said that nobody in college liked them.”

“Well, they seem like the standard gross jock types,” Penelope commented.

“Does she have any history with them?” Emily asked.

“Uh, not that I can see,” Garcia replied. “I don’t even think they shared any classes.”

“What about them personally? Anything you can tie to her wanting them dead?”

“Let’s see, boy wonder…” Garcia mumbled in response to Spencer, eyes focused on the screen. “Here! I got something.”

Everyone stared at her in anticipation. “Nathan Johns was involved in a Peeping Tom “incident” when he was fifteen. He had a habit of peeping underneath the bathroom stalls in highschool, and one girl decided to press charges with her parents. Claims were quickly shut down though, because, obviously, his father is a lawyer.”

Hotch’s lips pressed into a tight line. “What about the other two?”

“Zilch. Squeaky clean records.”

“Let’s leave that for later,” Rossi suggested. “We have more to say about her MO.”

“She poisoned her victims,” JJ chimed in. “That makes sense with her chemistry background. She’s also shown that she’s meticulous and pays attention to detail.” She continued elaborating, “She managed to poison the drinks without the bartender noticing and she made sure to keep an eye on Spencer as he typed in the code to his safe.”

The team nodded like-mindedly. Spencer bit down on his bottom lip. He didn’t have much of a say in all of this. He didn’t even know why he still tried to make sense of it all. Whether he genuinely believed in your innocence or if this was an attempt at finding a theory that would sooth his mind.

“She’s rather chaotic, actually,” he eventually spoke up. “She snapped during the interview when Natalie Fisher got mentioned. She took my gun while I was in the room next to her. To be more specific, she—“ he cleared his throat, “I woke up and she walked back to me before heading out. It doesn’t match the MO of the killings.”

“What are you suggesting, kid?” Rossi asked, confusion visible on his face.

“She doesn't have to be the unsub.”

“Oh, come on, man. Then how do you explain the dumping of the bodies?” Morgan inquired, his tone laced with accusement. “She went from meticulous to dropping the bodies in the middle of an alley where anyone could pass by. She’s shown dramatic changes in MO before.”

“The bodies could have been placed there to set her up. The unsub must have known she’s disorganized, so positioning the bodies there could be connected to her. If the unsub is as diligent as we’re assuming, he could’ve easily disposed of the bodies in a place where we wouldn’t be able to find them. Instead, he dropped them right in the face of any passersby.”

“Spence, I thought we’ve been over this,” JJ said, offering a sympathetic smile, her hand sliding over the table to reach out for him.

Spencer quickly pulled his hand back, seeing the obvious hurt on his friend’s face. Yes, they had been over this. He was positive that he would snap if he had to go through another “Are you sure you’re ready to be back? The change from prison to society is a huge change” conversation.

“Did she share anything else that makes you think this way?”

Spencer blinked at Hotch's question. The moment was still fresh in his mind. He remembered how nervous he felt when he had asked you to take you to his place. He had replayed the hypothetical conversation in his mind a thousand times, how he would first open up about his past, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up about yours. But when you kissed him the way you did, there was no space for any other thoughts in his mind.

“Reid,” Hotch repeated.

“No.”

“No?”

“She said that she likes the sea,” he shared, the corner of his lip slightly lifting at the memory.

“I feel safe in your arms,” you whispered, your breath tickling his chest as you lay your head on top of it. His arm was wrapped around you, tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, wondering if you could feel his pounding heartbeat.

“The only other place I’ve felt this safe is at sea.”

He smiled as he gazed down at you. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Really?”

He felt the movement of you nodding. “It’s the only place that calms my mind.”

The sound of ruffling paper snapped him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head to see Rossi unrolling a large map of the country.

Spencer could feel the prying eyes on him. Geography of the unsub is his strength. He inhaled a deep breath before leaving his chair, reluctantly walking toward the wall where Rossi had pinned the map.

“She told you that she didn’t have a place to stay,” Prentiss stated, her words sounding like a question for affirmation.

Spencer nodded, trying to focus on the case like it was any other. “She walked to the reunion, probably taken by cab, and then we found her walking around the area when we arrested her. So, she has no vehicle.”

“For all we know, she could’ve taken the first plane out of the country,” Morgan interjected.

Hotch clicked his tongue. “We alerted Border Patrol when Reid had called me, which was less than an hour after she had left his house. If we assume she’s chaotic, she wouldn’t be able to book a flight that quickly. The only place you can disappear this smoothly has to be a place in her comfort zone.”

“Can we assume she’s still in Virginia?” Rossi asked.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer replied. “Her picture is all over the state, and Virginia’s beaches are very populated, with a minimum of in the hundred thousands. Virginia Beach, for example, has a population of 453.649.”

“She doesn’t have a car,” Rossi thought aloud. “There are no records of her having a stable job, so she doesn’t have a lot of money in her pockets either. Knowing cab drivers, they won’t want to drive around for hours, which leads us to—“

“Delaware,” Spencer finished.

-`♡´-

A sea breeze gently caressed your face, blowing through your cut hair. With your eyes closed, you cherished the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the scent of saltwater in the air. It was a nostalgic smell that came with a flood of memories: building sandcastles on the beach, running barefoot across the hot sand before diving into the sea, loud laughter as you splashed the water and got splashed in return.

The flashbacks were a stark contrast to your current predicament. When you opened your eyes, it was dark. The sea in front of you looked black, only reflecting a small glimmer of the moon that hung low in the sky. The sand beneath your fingers felt cold. And there were no sounds of laughter, not even the sound of annoying seagulls. You were surrounded in absolute silence. A crunching noise came out of the darkness. The sound so sudden and intense, similar to being whipped across the face. Though, your head didn’t turn. You knew who was out there.

The sounds grew louder. Sweat started forming on your face and hands. Your fingers trembled as you reached into the pocket of your jeans, the tight fabric cutting into your hand as you pushed deeper until you felt the cool metal of Spencer’s gun.

“Don’t.”

The word cut through the air. Your grip on the gun tightened in an effort to keep your fingers from shaking. No words left your mouth as you carefully tilted your head.

In front of you stood Spencer, exactly as you had predicted. But unlike your predictions, he was on his own. Was he here by himself to personally arrest you? To revel in your loss?

You continued to stare at him, though you weren’t really seeing him. Your vision blurred by the tears that had welled in your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on his gun, which he held tightly in between both hands, aimed straight at your skull.

“Is that a new one?”

He seemed taken aback by your question, glacing down to the firearm in his palms. When he looked back at you, you stood in front of him, mirroring his stance, gun directed at his chest.

“I like this one better,” you commented, clicking the safety off.

Spencer cocked his head, maintaining his unwavering eye contact. He seemed to be challenging you. You clenched your jaw, anger boiling hotter inside of you.

“Put the gun away,” he strictly ordered, though his tone remained unnervingly calm. It was too calm for your liking. He should be scared. At least show a sign of nerves. Instead he looked at you like you were a joke, like you weren’t capable.

“You’re not going to use it anyway,” he dismissively adds, fueling your anger.

“Yes, I will!”

Your voice taunted as you took a step forward. Your legs trembled at the move, your heart thudded painfully in your chest to the point of nausea. It was difficult to comprehend the next words he spoke, your ears ringing before you even fired the shot.

“You didn’t kill those people,” Spencer declared. The words sounded like he was repeating a scientific fact. Like it was the only possible truth.

He then called out your name.

The word rolled off his tongue like it was crafted just for him to say it. Akin to a gentle symphony. His pronunciation was just as soft and full with longing as it had been when he breathily whispered it into your ear over and over again.

“I would’ve!” you shouted out, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. You strode forward until the barrel of your gun pressed into his chest, jabbing the cold metal into his clothed skin.

He didn’t flinch. Instead of his breathing hastening, it slowed down. His eyebrows drooped as he looked down at you.

“I would’ve,” you repeat just as loudly, digging the weapon harder into him. Pity remained on his face and you couldn’t stop the tears threatening to spill again. Whether it was from frustration or sorrow, you weren’t sure.

“I would’ve, I would’ve, I would’ve!”

The words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra, each repetition feeling like the only way to catch your breath. With every spoken word, you hit his chest, though your punches weaken with every syllable.

Spencer continued to watch you, observing you as he gave you the space that you needed. When you looked up at him, his eyes were glistening, triggering something inside of you.

A sob broke free from your chest. Spencer’s gun slipped from his hand in reaction, falling into the sand with a muffled thud.

“I should’ve…” you choked out, the words a combination of an apology and a confession.

Spencer nodded compassionately, his hands reaching out to gently cup yours.

“Should’ve done it. Should’ve been me.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he spoke reassuringly, carefully taking the gun from your limp fingers and tucking it in his back pocket. His hands quickly returned to yours, without you even registering his movement. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry,” you softly cried. The words weren’t meant for Spencer, but somehow, he understood. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you against the spot where your gun had been only seconds ago.

Sorries became the new prayer you desperately muttered against his chest. Sorries to Natalie. Sorries for being weak. Sorries for not giving her the justice she deserved. Sorries for dishonoring her when she needed you most. Sorries for everything.

The apologies to others turned into a plea to receive them yourself. Sorry for making you so naive. Sorry for making you weak. Sorry for giving you the need to run from yourself.

Your head hung low against him, your grip on his shirt tightening, your lungs constricting like it was painful to breathe.

“You’re angry.” Spencer noted, noticing the change in your posture.

You sniffled against him, not having the energy to lie. “Yes.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture made your stomach flutter.

You felt conflicted by his kindness. How was he able to hold you so tightly? To choose to stay by your side despite the mess you were.

The delicacy of his touch parallel to the fury still simmering inside of you.

“I am so mad,” you admitted in a resigned breath.

His hand slid from your head to your neck, gently cupping your jaw. “Let it out on me.”

You had to furrow your brows, not sure if you understood him correctly.

“I mean it. Your body is full of cortisol and epinephrine. Stress hormones,” he explained. “You need to be relieved of those.”

His fingertips trailed lightly over your arm, and you followed his touch with your eyes.

“Use me. Let me offer you relief.”

You stood frozen in place, swallowing the breathless laugh that almost escaped your lips, as you noted the genuine look expressed on Spencer’s face.

His eyes bored into yours, the hazel of his irises altering into a darker shade of brown.

Tentatively, your hands moved up his body, and only then did his heartbeat quicken. Your fingers continued trailing upward until you gripped his collar, the fabric soft in your tight grip. His eyes don’t leave yours, mouth just slightly agape as you pull him in closer.

Then you kiss him — hard.

*link to smut (pt. 2.5)

-`♡´-

The ventilation quietly hummed in the back of the motel room from the shower you had just taken. After the intimate moment on the beach, Spencer had convinced you to take him back to the motel you were staying at. “They’re all fast asleep. They haven’t noticed me leaving” he assured you.

It didn’t matter anymore if they knew your whereabouts, you’ve told Spencer everything anyway. How Natalie has been your bestest friend in college. How you were tied to the hip. How you never left each other’s sight — except for that one night…

You had cried in his arms, and he had let you. He held you close as you lay in bed. He comforted you with statistics about guilt and trauma, as you told him why you went to that reunion that night. It marked the anniversary of the week Natalie had died. Of the week you received an email from her: a final note. Telling you by the time you read this, she’d be long gone.

You hadn’t gone to her funeral. Didn’t even receive an invitation. You hadn’t been in contact with Natalie ever since she had called you from that party. You’d picked her up that night, taken her to the hospital, and left the second the doctors told you she’d be fine.

You didn’t tell Spencer this part. You only told him that you expected there to be a memorial at the reunion, a way for you to have a proper goodbye. Your heart had stopped in the same way it had years ago when you walked into the bar and found that there was nothing. Nothing but loud music, colored lights, and drunk people. It was as if Natalie had never existed.

Your ears had rang. Your breaths came in short pants. With all your might, you suppressed the rising panic attack, using the last bit of strength to walk toward the three men you’d spotted from the start. The men that had done this to Natalie. Who had killed her, although not with their hands.

Naive little birdie, Natalie had always called you. The sweet nickname now sounded more haunting as the three men stared you up and down. Your heart beated in expectancy, but then you noticed their dilated pupils. The way their breath reeked of hard liquor. Their lips still glossy with alcohol as they gave you a sluggish smirk. They hadn’t even recognized you. Naive little birdie.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. “It’s okay.”

You had shaken your head, the memories tearing apart into small pieces in your mind. Quickly, you had finished your story, telling him that after that moment, you didn’t have it in you to walk past everyone again. Too terrified to see the laughs on their faces. Instead, you marched straight to the emergency exit.

The both of you stayed quiet after your confession. The air hung heavy with silence, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“We need to talk about it at some point,” Spencer brings up.

You nodded. Spencer had been kind to you, given you the time to process, but the conversation was inevitable. You hadn’t killed anyone. So someone else had.

“Someone is trying to blame this on you. Someone wants to see you gone,” he softly whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

The subject made you feel uncomfortable. You had thought about it before. Plenty of times, actually. But every time you did what you did best: ignore it. It wasn’t as easy to disregard when someone was looking you in the eyes, their pain so visible.

Still, you shrugged, brushing aside his comment. “It doesn’t matter. I wanted them gone, and now they are. It doesn’t matter how.”

“It does matter.”

The rise in his voice made you flinch, and he instantly cupped your hands, pulling you back to him. “‘M sorry. I’m just scared.”

It was strange to hear someone be so honest. Spencer had been honest with you from the start. He’d said that he would protect you, and he was still keeping to that promise.

You moved your hand to your hair, wanting to twirl the locks as a nervous habit, but then realized most of it was cut short.

“I guess we can tell your team tomorrow,” you settle on saying, swallowing as you envision their dirty looks.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows in a questioning gaze, leaning forward as he hid the small, grateful smile that lingered his lips.

You chuckled, feeling relieved by his response. You nodded your head against the pillow. “Really.”

The room returned to silence. Surely now deeply comfortable. No more questions that lingered in the air. The back of Spencer’s fingers lazily traced the side of your face. His warm hand trailed down the skin. His eyes flickered over your face, expression filled with awe as he grazed his fingers through your short locks. “Your hair looks pretty.”

A soft snort escaped you, “It looks horrendous.”

He responded with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but smile widely back at him.

“I think this suits you better. Not that I didn’t like your other haircut,” he quickly corrected himself, making you chuckle. “I like your face. The longer hair hid it. Now I can see you.”

Your cheeks warmed. Spencer did see you. Not just your appearance — he saw you. He had seen you from the moment your eyes had locked when he and his team had found you and brought you to the station. He had seen you before you’d even seen yourself. The thought of stopping your hiding, your fleeing, didn’t seem so scary anymore. Not when staying would bring you to him.

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a low rumble, followed by a louder one. Spencer’s hand slipped from your hair as he placed it on his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

A bright, childlike laugh bubbled from your chest. Spencer snickered, grinning from ear to ear. He bashfully brushed his fingers through his messy curls. “I havent really eaten since we’ve gotten here.”

“Let me grab you a snack.” You crawled out of bed, legs still a little shaky as you stood up.

“Do you have snacks in the room?

“No, but there’s a vending machine outside.”

He propped himself up against the pillows, his eyes following you as you made your way over to the bathroom where your clothes were bundled up on the tile floor. He let out a small sigh as you walked out of sight.

He naturally timed the minutes till the door creaked open again. You had washed yourself up in the sink, some water droplets still clinging to your neck. Your hair less frizzy now that it had been dampened. You wore your clothes from earlier, though one could tell they had been taken off of you multiple times.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, grabbing the key and some coins from the cabinet. And he believed you.

The door shut behind you, a cold breeze immediately hugging your skin. The LED lamps brightened the exterior corridor. The vending machine at the end of the walkway shone even brighter, catching your attention.

You walked straight toward it, curiously peering into the transparent door. You pressed the numbers for trail mix and beef jerky — something that could pass for dinner. You inserted the coin, impatiently bending down in front of the opening.

The rumbling sound of the machine was followed by a whoosh of air.

Then a sharp bang echoed through your skull.

Then you were gone.

-`♡´-

Shadows of bright lights flickered in front of your eyes, giving the illusion that you rubbed them too hard.

You forced your eyelids open, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying down, you would’ve stumbled. With effort, you scrambled yourself up into a sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

Four tiled walls enclosed you. The room resembled a lab: a sink with a counter to the left, an iron door on the wall right in front of you, and an air vent to the right.

A bitter odor entered your airways, making you scrunch your nose. You turned your head to the left — a little too quickly — the throbbing pain catching up with you, making you groan in pain.

Your hands shot to the sides of your face, trying to hold your head still in an attempt to stop the room from spinning.

A warm liquid coated your fingers. You pulled your hand back and saw it was stained crimson. A gasp left you, followed by a string of whimpers as you felt yourself growing faint.

You spotted a red first aid kit on top of the counter. On your knees, you slumped toward it, taking several breaks despite the distance only being ten feet.

With clammy hands, you clutched the counter, inhaling a deep breath before dragging yourself up. Your body hovered over the table, and you reached your arm out to pull the kit closer to you. You fumbled with the lock on the box. “Open up, please,” you begged to whatever God that was listening.

The acid smell grew stronger, and it was then that you noticed the small vial next to the first aid kit. Its contents contained a light yellow solid. Cyanide — poison.

The metal door creaked open, the sound stinging straight through your skull. You cried out as you fell to the ground. You backed away to the nearest wall, curling your knees to your chest just in time for the door to fully open. “Naive little birdie. You’re awake.”

PART 2.5

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cringywhitedragon · 2 days ago

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”They said it would destroy us all if it got loose. And they were right.”

A once thriving colony.

“98% of Otania has been infested by an alien lifeform we call the Dredge. Anything it infects is converted into one of its drones.”

“The Federation has set up a blockade around the planet. Nothing can get in or out.”

Fighting for survival.

“It’s only a matter of time before one of those creatures finds a way to breach the wall. And when they do, the fleet above us have orders to bombard the planet until nothing remains alive. Including any survivors.”

Their only hope lies in

”My father was always a busy man. But on those rare days off, he would do all he could to spend as much time as he could with mom and I.”

“He never spoke much about his work offworld. Not until now.”

“What are these?”

“Notes. Notes that might be our only chance at saving this place.”

One just like the enemy

“Salutations, I am the Artificial Replicating Unit. You may call me ARU.”

“A self replicating artificial intelligence? I thought the Federation outlawed those years ago after that incident on the Cyclon?”

“I can promise you that I have no intention of going rogue. If anything, the thought of seeing myself as a God terrifies me…”

“O Connell, I think you’re scaring them.”

A scientist and a reluctant smuggler must journey offworld.

“You’re looking to get off this planet then, you’re looking right at him. Captain Daniel O Connell at your service.”

“Ranolnt? The 4th planet in this system!? There’s no way in hell. The federation patrols that place more than a swarm of Hydralian Sandshulkers do their nest.”

“Just trust me on this.”

A twist on the old tales of rogue AIs and a love letter to the genre of sci fi

“Just like you, I am capable of expressing what humans call emotions. Like now! SECURITY DRONE AHEAD!”

“ARU!”

“I am ok. The rover might be damaged beyond usability but this drones works even better.”

“I never thought I would be saying this but ARU acts so… Human. I don’t know what your father did when designing them but he sure did a damn good job at it.”

A tale of hope, love, and secrets.

“I don’t know what you two found that was so important but it better be worth it!”

“This has to be one of the craziest journeys of my life. And I just want to say thank you.”

“Thank you for being here.”

Activating self destruct sequence in t minus 5 minutes

“No! You can do this to him!”

And just what it means for something to truly be considered “Human”

“He never treated it like a machine. He treated them like one of his own children.”

“I may be made of metal but that doesn’t mean I cannot show love.”

Man of Machine

”Why…. You are a Myraid like us. Why would you defend them?”

“Because they created me- and that’s enough for my gratitude.”

Coming Summer 2026

"Why? You are myriad like us... Why would you defend them?" the powerful hive mind asks the united army it's fighting, speaking through a million bodies, but still understood. "Because they created me—and that's enough for my gratitude," the machines respond in unison.

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 days ago

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begging on my knees, ripping my skin off for shiu kong ANYTHING <3 ily cinna LMAOO

Bullet for my Assassin

Tags: Shiu x fem!Reader, Toji x fem!Reader, mfm, why choose, kidnapping, murder, dead dove, dark romance plot, you're being used for ransom, Toji and Shiu are morally black in this one.

Synopsis: Your dad is a wealthy CEO of Japan, but he hates you because you were born a girl instead of a boy. Toji and Shiu kidnap you and hold you ransom for money. Things ensue???

An: Hiiiii nepo baby, i know you said shiu kong anything. I hope you don’t mind Toji making an appearance. Also, HAPPY (so very late; i'm so sorry.) BIRTHDAY!!! Look, i gotta be honest. I ran out of inspiration for this fic, so I'm posting it, hoping it will revitalize some of that inspiration for a part two. That being said, let me know if I should make a part two.

Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Japan was actually a death sentence. Since you didn’t have a dick between your legs, you’re obviously less than in the world of business.

Your dad pressured your mom into giving him children to inherit the company, but he didn’t want children. He wanted men to inherit the company. You were just a lowly girl!! How were you supposed to manage a company? Girls clearly didn’t know anything about finance or business. (can you smell my sarcasm)

Ruthless and cold, your father never showed you nor your mother an ounce of love. In fact, he had tried multiple avenues to try and prove that you weren’t his kid. Unfortunately for both of you, you share 23 of your dad’s chromosomes.

His anger was growing worse towards you as you got older and developed your own personality. Everything you did was wrong in his eyes. Even though the company was specifically suppose to go to his kid, your father had been toying with the idea of selling out just so you couldn’t ruin what he had built.

Not that you cared, you thought about how if you were the CEO, you’d burn the company to the ground just to spite his wishes. You’d love to see him turn over in his grave as he watched his baby burn because of his daughter.

You basically lived alone. Your mother had passed a couple of years ago due to strange circumstances, and your father never bothered to come home. There would be no point to socializing with the likes of you.

Your mother’s early death rocked you to your core. For your entire childhood, she was weary and exhausted. Your father directed his anger on her, and she couldn’t help but subconsciously put the blame on you. If only you were a boy.

She did a good job of not showing her true thoughts. She wasn’t a doting or nurturing, but she was there for you. She never raised a hand to you, never raised her voice with you, never called you mean names. That was all you could ask for whenever your dad was so vile towards you. While she wasn’t close with you, she was still your mom, and she was the closest thing to parental guidance that you had. Her death was the beginning of your lonely existence.

The mansion was like a prison for you. Since your dad was so prominent in social media, you had an image to uphold, and he didn’t want you ruining that image. So, he didn’t even give you the chance to interact with anyone outside of the house. The only way for you to escape his claws was to either get married or die, and getting married was impossible when you weren’t allowed to interact with anyone on the outside.

You preferred being alone. The empty quiet feelings was better than the anxiety you got when your father was home. He’d always start yelling at the waitstaff about something so minuscule. He harbored so much anger that the house practically turned sour when he came home.

What was the saying? If you grow up with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house. The thought of marrying someone like your dad made you want to gouge your eyes out with a butter knife. Being alone was the best option.

Besides, the waitstaff was nice. They cared for you… albeit from a distance, but they cared. It was known that you received the worst of your father’s anger, so they empathized with you.

The house was particularly quiet late one evening. It wasn’t the normal quiet that gave you a sense of peace. It was eerily quiet, giving you a sense of dread. The sounds of hushed talking and dishes clattering was the usual background noise in the house from the waitstaff, but there was nothing right now… as if it truly was just you in the house.

The alarms would’ve went off if someone entered. Not to mention there’s security posted around the perimeter… unless your father was the reason that it was so quiet… Surely, it was just him. Maybe he sent the waitstaff home for the day?

You carefully slipped out of bed, pulling a robe on over your silk pajamas. Being a CEO’s daughter wasn’t all bad. You received luxury items in exchange for feeling void of any real human connection and your dad’s hatred!

Briefly taking a moment to wonder if you were being one of those dumb characters from a scary movie, you quickly pushed those thoughts out of your head. Your life was more of a tragedy than a horror movie.

Slowly stepping out of your room, the click of your door latching filled the space, and you held your breath for just a moment. Nothing.

You soundlessly walked down the hall. Since you were on the second floor, there was a landing where you could look over the rails to see the bottom floor.

Nothing. No- is that a foot? Is someone lying on the ground. You leaned farther over the wooden railing to see. You were surely mistaken, right? Who was lying on the floor?

The feeling of a hand pressing down on the back of your head. Fingers entangled with your hair as the unknown man gripped you from behind. His other hand was steady on your hip. You were being dangled over the side of the railing by a stranger.

Immediately, you started to thrash against his hold, panicking as you did so. “Let me go!” You shouted, kicking your feet out from behind you to try to get away from him.

Turning your head as much as his hand would allow, you only caught the glimpse of a scar on the man’s lip. He shot you a grin before pushing your body closer to the edge, almost making you topple right over the railing.

“Yeah, princess? Want me to let you go?” His voice was husky, teasing almost. It had a raspy edge to it that sent shivers up your spine as you were now trying to push back against him to get away from the edge.

Your eyes were looking at the drop, wondering if it was better to just fall than to face whatever this man was going to do you. Somethings were worse than death…

You switched tactics, pulling away from him instead of trying to get away from the rail. You were going to topple right over it. A growl of frustration left his lips as he easily yanked you away from the railing. Your body collided with his brick wall of a warm chest.

Taking a chance to look up at him, you immediately regretted it. The perpetrator had black hair that came over his forehead and pretty green eyes that you could get lost in. His lips seemed to permanently house a cocky smirk, and fuck, he was built.

“You must have a death wish, brat.” He scowled at you as if he wasn’t the one who dangled you so close to the edge.

Not bothering to answer his taunts, you quickly started to fight against him, beating against his chest with your hands, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He was massive. You were sure that none of your blows were doing anything to him.

Without any difficulty, the hulk-sized man slung you over his shoulder, securing an arm around your frame. He didn’t even flinch or bat an eye each time you hit him. Your fists did little to his toned back.

Not able to fight your way out, you use your next best defense tool: your voice. “Let me go!” You shrieked as loud as possible. “Let me go! Somebody help!” Tears coated your eyes, and your voice went hoarse from yelling.

“Let me goo~ Somebody help mee~” The man mocked you in an obscene high-pitched tone with a laugh. He had done his homework. Even if you screamed, no one would be coming to save you right now.

Every staff member in the house was deceased, and thank god your dear old dad is so paranoid that he put his mansion in the literal middle of nowhere. There were no neighbors that’d hear you either.

You were completely and utterly alone with the man who was kidnapping you. A deep sense of dread and hopelessness filled your stomach, and you continued to cry — weakly begging for anyone to help you.

The man toned you out rather easily as he carried you down the massive flight of stairs. He used his free hand to flip open a burner phone, and he dialed a number before talking.

“The security system is still down?” His gruff, no-nonsense voice returned to him as if he wasn’t just making fun of you moments prior.

Even though you knew it was likely one of his associates on the phone, you screamed for help. Hot tears coated your cheeks as your voice strained.

A firm smack to your ass jolted you, and your voice caught in your throat. Did your kidnapper really just spank you for misbehaving?

“The girl isn’t hurt. She’s just being dramatic. I’m heading to the pickup spot.” He didn’t let the person on the other side answer before he clopped the flip phone shut, effectively ending the call.

“Gonna get me in trouble acting like that, girl.” The man tsked his tongue, and he continued to effortlessly carry you around to the back entrance of the house.

You finally caught a glimpse of your poor staff members. Your heart lurched in your chest. They had families and lives. Now, they were dead on your floor because of this man.

The man didn’t say another word as you cried. He kept his one arm firmly wrapped around you as he so casually carried you out of the house. The security system and the guards had already been dealt with.

Soon, you unceremoniously shoved into the back of a black tinted car. You struggled as much as you could, kicking and scratching. You even tried to bite the man as he tied your arms behind your back.

“Keep fighting. I’ll hogtie and gag your ass.” He threatened lowly, becoming sick of this game with you. He never quite understood why people fought so hard against him when he clearly held the upper hand. It was useless.

Letting out a small sob, you laid against the backseat of the car. The leather interior felt cold and ruthless as your tears fell from your eyes.

“Come on, Toji. We don’t have all day.” The driver reprimanded as if the man was simply buckling in a toddler and not kidnapping a grown woman.

You flinched from the sound of the driver’s voice. You had been so focused on fighting against the Toji guy that you didn’t even realize there was another man idly sitting in the front seat, puffing on a cigar.

Toji tied your ankles together, but he didn’t hogtie you thankfully. Without saying another word, he slammed the door shut before getting into the passenger side seat.

You felt your heart drop as the car started to move. You had an inkling… you’d never see that mansion again. You just knew it. Even though you hated the very frame that house sat on, you longed for the empty feeling of sitting inside. You’d take the void of living in a loveless home over being taken by two men.

Your stomach churned, and suddenly, you felt ill as you faced the grave circumstances. Bile raised in your throat, and your hands struggled against the ropes that Toji had bound you with. Panic set in. You were going to choke on your vomit while you laid face down in it.

“There she goes.” Toji muttered, tone laced with annoyance before he reached back and pulled your arm so your mouth was hanging over the back seat. You threw up safely into the floor.

“I just got this car detailed.” The driver groaned as he took another puff from his cigar.

“It happens every time without fail. Ya should start puttin’ puppy pads back there or something.” Toji responded as his arm was still reached back, bracing your body.

“Yeah, because that’s not suspicious at all.” The driver responded with a sarcastic tone. It was clear that this wasn’t their first encounter with kidnapping someone. You didn’t even want to think about the implications of that.

Your adrenaline was dropping off, and while you knew you should try and stay awake — try to map out the turns the car made, you were exhausted after emptying your stomach contents into the floor.

Your head rested against the cool leather seats, and a moment later, you were out.

“It’s like fuckin’ clockwork.” Toji commented as he saw you dozing off in the backseat.

“Let me hogtie you and throw you into the back of a car, and we’ll see if you don’t throw up and pass out.” The driver grinned over at him.

“Kinky.” Was all the man responded with.

*** *** ***

The next time you awoke you were bound to a chair in a surprisingly well-lit room. It appeared to be a bedroom. Judging by the overly bland decor, you assumed this was an Airbnb or a hotel. There was no way they could’ve hauled your sleeping body into a hotel without being noticed, so it was definitely an Airbnb. Taking in your surroundings, you flinched as you finally caught a glimpse of the two men standing in your peripheral. They were silently watching you.

“So nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty.” Toji mocked with an easy grin, the scar on his lip flexing upwards. If he wasn’t your kidnapper, you would’ve classified him to be rather handsome in a very rugged sense. He just looked like the type of man who could get the job done.

“I thought we accidentally killed ya.” The driver who was now not driving remarked.

You had to be smarter with your words this time. There was no point in begging to be set free. They had already taken you to god knows where, killed your entire staff, and bound you to a chair. There was no going back for them.

“My dad has money. That’s what you’re after, right?” You bargained, taking a stab in the dark. This didn’t feel like human trafficking. This felt like a hostage, ransom situation. Little did they know, your dad probably wasn’t going to pay a single penny to get you back.

“Clever girl.” The driver grinned. He was also another handsome man with chestnut brown hair and a mustache. He seemed much more calmer than Toji, and he had a capable energy to him. You could tell that he was definitely the ringleader. Toji was simply the muscle behind the operation.

The driver took three slow, calculated steps towards you. He was still out of reach as he crouched down to be at your level. His eyes were dark brown as he carefully exam you.

“If you’re good, I’ll explain how this is gonna work.” The man said lowly. His voice was deeper than Toji’s but not as gravely or hardened. He had a voice fit for radio.

You slowly nodded, tears already sliding down your cheeks out of sheer fear.

“Good girl. Keep that same energy for the camera.” The man purred before you directed your attention to Toji. He was setting up a tripod with a nice Canon camera set up on it. He flicked the lights off, but it wouldn’t be too dark for anyone to see.

Your body started to react before you could even fully process what was going on. You rocked back and forth in your chair while crying, trying to fight against the restraints. Toji clicked the record button, and he pulled two black balaclavas out of his pocket. Throwing one at the other man and slipping one on for himself. Their identities besides their eyes were completely concealed.

The nameless man tied a piece of cloth that worked as a gag around your mouth, and you sobbed harder. This could go so many ways, and you didn’t want to consider all the possibilities. Your mind thinking up the most depraved acts.

Then, the nameless man held a voice distorter up to his mouth, like the ones that were used in horror films. Toji suddenly grabbed your hair tightly with his oversized fist, and he made you look directly into the camera.

The nameless man started the video off by addressing your dad by his full name. “We have your daughter.” He plainly stated, going silent so one of your muffled sobs could clearly he heard.

He went on a spill about the ransom and how it was going to work. They were demanding 10 million dollars to be paid in a week. It had to be paid in person by your dad, or they would mail him your body parts.

You choked out sobs and tried to scream. You were going to die. There was no way you were going to make it out of this situation alive.

Toji’s thumb ever so gently caressed the back of your head. He was still holding your hair tightly, making you look directly into the camera, but he was subtly rubbing small circled into your scalp as if he was trying to subtly soothe you.

Whatever his intent was, it wasn’t working. You strained against the rope and the gag. You cried and tried to beg your way out of this. Finally, the nameless man showed the camera a timer. It was set for 168 hours, and it was steadily dwindling down.

Then, he stopped the recording ominously. “Can’t believe we got that on the first try.” He muttered with a laugh before pulling off his balaclava. He then flicked back on the lights.

You looked at both of the men in a confused manner. They were both so calm and casual after recording a literal ransom video. It was eerie. You hated this feeling of distrust and uneasiness that settled into the pit of your stomach.

Toji ripped off his balaclava, and he promptly untied the gag before picking up the camera off the tripod and walking away.

“Alright doll, you did so good.” The nameless man praised as he crouched back down to be at your level. “I guess that means I gotta tell you how things are gonna work now, huh?”

A sheepish nod later, and he continues, "I'm Shiu, and you already know the other old fucker's name is Toji." He starts, gesturing to Toji who was lazily typing away at a computer with a death glare.

"We're not gonna hurt ya until you give us a reason to. You just gotta be good for us and do as we say, and this will be a breeze." Shiu's tone was steady and lighthearted as if he was talking about the itinerary to a vacation and not your kidnapping.

Tears clouded your vision. Your captors seemed to have thought of all the details but one. Your father couldn't give less of a fuck about you, and he likely wasn't going to pay a dime for your safe return.

"And when my dad doesn't pay you two, then what? You two kill me and mail my body off so you can move onto the next mogul's daughter?" You asked -- tone full of resentment.

"We're not amateurs, darlin'." Shiu grins at you, boldly using his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears from your cheeks. You're still bound, so you're at his whim right now. "Toji's workin' on releasing that video publicly. How could the wealthiest CEO of Japan get away with not paying to have his daughter back safely?"

You pursed your lips together, trying to think rationally. None of this felt real. Your heart stuttered in your chest. Would your dad pay to get you back if he risked ruining his reputation?

If he ruined his reputation, companies would pull their stocks and tank his company. It would be hard for him to form partnerships because other companies wouldn’t want to be associated with him. His perfectly curated baby would come crashing down.

He would have to pay to get you back.

Noticing the gears turning in your head, Shiu patted your hair gently with his oversized palm. “We also got a few other tricks up our sleeve. We didn’t do this on a spur of the moment decision, darling.”

They weren’t two petty criminals looking to make it big. These two men were the real deal. They had the knowledge and precision that it took to commit serious crimes. This probably wasn’t even their first ransom situation.

“Glad to know you plotted my kidnapping perfectly.” You muttered in a self-deprecating tone.

Shiu gave another chuckle as his hand stayed on your head. His touch was warm and unwavering. It had been years since someone showed you affection so casually.

“I’d say you’re in good hands, but…” He grinned at you, ruffling your hair before removing his hand. “You’re in capable hands.” He said before he slowly walked around behind you. “Be honest, darling. If I untie you, are you going to try to run?”

Your eyes lingered on the door of the Airbnb. Would you even make it far if you did run? Would it be worth being tied down for even longer? Your eyes wandered to Toji, who was sat strategically near the door. His gaze was still on the laptop, but you could tell that he could easily catch you if given the chance.

Shiu laughed as he could see the inner turmoil on your face. You really wore your emotions on your sleeve, not hiding that you were weighing the option of running. “You wanna see what’ll happen? Try it, princess.” He dared as his fingers worked to loosen the knots around your hands.

Your body was achy from the precarious position of being tied to the chair. You instinctively stretched, feeling your stiff muscles protest.

You looked back up at Shiu, registering that he was offering you to run. “Go ahead. Go.” He said as he nodded towards the door.

“If you make me run, I’m taking it out on your ass.” Toji grumbled from his position near the door. His green eyes were now glaring at you.

Against your better judgement, you ran. You had to run, even if it was clearly a setup. If you didn't try to get away, then someone would say that you wanted this to happen. You wanted to be kidnapped from your prison.

You barely made it to the door and swung it open before two strong arms wrapped around your midsection, hauling you up as if you weighed nothing.

"Fucking brat." Toji's voice rumbled in your ear as he lifted your body up, pressing your backside against his chest as he kicked the door shut.

Shiu chuckled as he made sure to lock it back. He really just enticed you to run to piss Toji off. He had to keep things interesting after all.

A grunt passed your lips as you were unceremoniously slung onto the plush bed in the room. You tried to kick and fight your way out of Toji's hold, but his hands expertly held you down and forced your arms above your head. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Here it comes... the part where you wish they would've just killed you...

The sound of metal jingling caught your attention, and you hesitantly opened your eyes to see Toji handcuffing you down to the headboard.

As soon as one of your wrists were cuffed and bound, Toji got up off of you. "Until you can learn how to behave and not be stupid." He muttered as he turned his back to you and went back to sit down.

Well, that wasn't what you were expecting.

"Technically-" You spoke up, looking between Toji and Shiu as they watched you with amused eyes. "I was behaving since he told me to run." You pointed out, nodding your head towards Shiu.

"And I told you what would happen if you did run. You're lucky I haven't bent you over my knee yet." Toji countered, crossing his arms over his chest with a lopsided grin.

"Yet-?"

"I haven't decided if I'm going to do it or not, but your smart mouth is pushing me, brat."

You swallow thickly, realizing what you were truly dealing with here. Your eyes leave Toji's figure, and you look up towards the handcuff chaining you to the bed.

You were kidnapped from one prison and brought to another, and yet, a strange voice in the back of your head is telling you that your kidnappers have better intentions with you than your own dad.

"Don't listen to him," Shiu's low voice rumbled, breaking your line of thought. "He's all bark and rarely any bite,"

"He killed all of my staff members," you retort, staring at Shiu with furrowed eyebrows. How could he act like Toji was anything less than a killing machine?

"Touché," was all Shiu responded with as he looked over at you with a relaxed grin.

Toji was back to lounging as he tilted his head back. His adams apple bobbing as he closed his eyes. He wasn't really going to sleep next to the door, was he?

Shiu had walked off out of sight, and you could hear him responding to a phone call.

Moving around on the bed, you figured you may as well get comfortable while you're trapped.

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harrysfolklore · 1 day ago

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So since the Oscars are happening next week I wanted to ask if you could please write something about charles leclerc and actress!reader where she's been nominated many many times before but never won (kind of like saoirse ronan) but this time she finally breaks the curse and win her first Oscar and Charles being just proud husband

u know you can always count on me for a charles x famous!reader fic and honestly i loved this one 🥺 i hope you like ittt

The Dolby Theatre buzzes with anticipation as you sit between Charles and your co-star. This scene is familiar - the sixth time you've been nominated, the same butterfly-inducing wait during the Best Actress category. Your first nomination came when you were just twenty-three, and now at thirty, you've earned the title of 'most nominated actress without a win.'

Charles has been there for four of those nominations, watching you smile gracefully through each loss. You remember how devastated he was last year - more than you, even - when you lost for what critics had called 'the performance of the decade.' He'd held you all night, whispering about how the Academy didn't deserve you anyway.

Tonight, though, feels different. Maybe it's the way Charles keeps pressing soft kisses to your temple, or how he hasn't stopped playing with your wedding ring - a nervous habit he picked up during particularly tense races.

"Mon coeur," he whispers as the Best Actor category wraps up, "no matter what happens, you're already the winner in my eyes. But tonight... tonight feels like magic, no?"

You're gripping Charles's hand so tightly you might be cutting off his circulation, but he doesn't seem to mind. Your heart is pounding as Emma Stone opens the envelope on stage, the same way it has during the previous ceremonies where you'd left empty-handed despite the nominations.

Charles leans closer, his lips brushing your ear. "I'm proud of you, no matter what happens," he whispers, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your hand.

"And the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role goes to..."

Charles's grip tightens imperceptibly. You feel him holding his breath alongside you.

"YN!"

For a moment, you're frozen. The applause sounds distant, like you're underwater. Then you feel Charles's hands on your face, see his beaming smile through your blur of tears.

"You did it, mon coeur!" he exclaims, his own eyes glistening as he pulls you into a kiss. "You finally did it!"

You're trembling as you stand, Charles helping you up. He's looking at you the way he does after winning a race - no, even more intensely than that. Like you've just won every championship in existence.

The walk to the stage feels surreal. You can hear the announcement echoing: "This is YN's sixth nomination and first win..." Through your tears, you see the standing ovation, catch glimpses of familiar faces who've been on this journey with you.

Your hands shake as you accept the Oscar, its weight both foreign and familiar after years of dreaming about this moment. You take a deep breath, looking out at the sea of faces until you find those green eyes that have been your anchor through every high and low.

"Wow," you begin, your voice trembling. "They say sixth time's the charm, right?" The audience laughs warmly. "I've had this speech written in my head since I was a little girl playing pretend with my mom's hairbrush, but now that I'm here, those words don't seem enough."

You pause, gathering yourself. "To the Academy - thank you for not giving up on me. To my incredible director who trusted me with this role that scared me as much as it thrilled me. To my amazing co-stars who pushed me to dig deeper, be braver."

Your eyes find Charles again, who's watching you with such pure adoration it makes your heart swell. "To my husband, who has sat through more award shows than F1 races this year so far, who runs lines with me even though he says my accent is better than his, who believes in me more than I believe in myself - ti amu. You've watched me practice acceptance speeches in our kitchen, held me through the disappointments, and somehow made me feel like a winner every single time. You told me once that in racing, it's not about how many times you don't make the podium, it's about never stopping until you do. Well, my love, we finally made it to the top step."

You can see Charles openly crying now, nodding proudly through his tears. "To my parents who let their little girl dream big, to my team who've been with me through every 'maybe next year,' to every young actor who's been told 'not yet' - keep going. Your time will come."

Looking down at the golden statue in your hands, you smile through your tears. "And finally, to every person who's ever felt like they're always the runner-up, who's heard 'better luck next time' so many times they've lost count - this is for you. Because sometimes the longest waitings lead to the sweetest victories. Thank you, thank you so much."

Later, at the Vanity Fair after-party, Charles hasn't let go of your Oscar once. He's been carrying it around, showing it off more proudly than any of his race trophies.

"My wife," he keeps saying to everyone who'll listen, his accent thick with emotion, "she's brilliant, no? I told everyone she would win. I knew it."

"Charles," you laugh, watching him polish the statue with his pocket square for the third time. "You're going to wear it out."

"Non, I'm protecting it. It's very precious." He looks at you with those soft green eyes. "Like you."

You lean into his side, feeling the familiar warmth of his arm around your waist. "You know what this means, right? Now we both have something gold to polish obsessively."

He chuckles, finally setting the Oscar down to pull you closer. "Oui, but unlike my trophies, this one was a long time coming." His expression softens. "You deserved this years ago, mon coeur."

"Well," you say, straightening his bowtie, "someone once told me that the sweetest victories are the ones you have to fight for."

"Sounds like a wise man," he grins.

"He's alright," you tease. "Bit of a show-off though. Keeps trying to steal my Oscar's spotlight."

Charles laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Never. Tonight is all yours, my love. Though..." he adds with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I might need to win another race soon. Can't have you being the only champion in the household."

You reach up to wipe a smudge of your lipstick from his cheek. "Race you to the next gold trophy?"

"Deal," he says softly, pulling you into a proper kiss. "But you've already won the most important race."

"Oh? Which one is that?"

His smile is tender as he touches his forehead to yours. "The race to my heart."

"That was terrible," you laugh, but you're already pulling him closer.

"Terrible but true," he murmurs against your lips. "Now, shall we go home? I need to practice my 'proud husband watching his wife's Oscar-winning performance' face for when we rewatch your movie for the hundredth time."

"You love that movie."

"I love you," he corrects.

And as you watch him carefully wrap your award in his suit jacket for the journey home, you think that maybe this victory is sweeter than you imagined - not because of the golden statue, but because of the golden heart beside you who never stopped believing it would happen.

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc fanfiction #harrysfolklore #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader #cl16 x reader #cl16 fanfic

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padf-0-ot · 15 hours ago

Text

You try to convince them to do the “Do you even have back muscles?” trend in Magicam with Vil Schoenheit and Malleus Draconia

note. might as well do everyone ^^” (even the ones whose one flick away from dropping dead)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

You were scrolling through MagiCam when a particular trend caught your eye. It was a simple yet devastatingly effective challenge — someone would record their boyfriend pulling off their shirt or jacket, revealing their back muscles, and the comments would immediately go feral.

You would too for them, but we won’t speak of that. And of course, your mind went straight to them.

Would they agree to it? Would they even care about the challenge? Honestly, you had no idea. But that didn’t stop you from trying.

So, you asked.

“Absolutely not.”

You blinked. “What?”

Vil didn’t even look up from his mirror, expertly applying a touch of moisturizer to his already flawless skin. “I refuse to subject myself to the whims of a trend so tacky. I have no reason to entertain the desperate thirst of the masses.”

You crossed your arms. “Tacky? Vil, it’s literally just a fitness trend. A simple show of strength and physique—”

“Exactly.” He finally turned to you, amethyst eyes sharp, assessing. “Simple is dull. Predictable. And I am neither of those things.”

You had expected resistance. What you hadn’t expected was Vil’s complete and utter dismissal, as if he were above the mere concept of proving himself. Which — fair. He kind of was. He was Vil Schoenheit. The epitome of physical discipline and aesthetic excellence. But still—

“...So you’re saying you could do it.”

The slight twitch of his brow was all the confirmation you needed.

A slow smirk crept onto your face. “Oh. You are built, but you just don’t want to be lumped in with the commoners, huh?”

His fingers halted against his temple. For a single, fleeting moment, you saw it — the hint of a nerve struck, the glint of something both irritated and calculating in his gaze. And then, in one fluid motion, he straightened, rolling his shoulders back with practiced ease.

“Fine.”

You barely had time to react before he reached up, undoing the delicate clasps of his dorm uniform, shrugging off the pristine white coat with a grace that shouldn’t have been possible. The silk of his dress shirt followed suit, each button slipping free with deliberate precision, until the fabric slid from his frame like water—

And holy shit.

Vil was divine.

His back was a masterpiece — taut, sculpted, every muscle honed to perfection. Broad shoulders framed an expanse of smooth, meticulously toned skin, the elegant curve of his spine leading down to a lean, devastating waist. His traps, his lats — everything was balanced, refined, the result of years of dedication to both form and function. There was nothing excessive, nothing overdone — just immaculate symmetry, beauty carved into strength.

And he knew it.

With an exhale, Vil reached for the nape of his neck, gathering his golden locks in one hand, tilting his head slightly to the side. The movement sent a ripple of motion through his back, subtle but mesmerizing — the kind of controlled power that didn’t need exaggeration.

A simple, effortless display.

You swallowed. “Damn.”

Vil hummed. “I should hope that suffices. I am perfection, after all.”

You were still staring. Possibly drooling. The Magicam feed was already on fire.

With a sigh, he released his hair, letting it cascade back into place before buttoning up his shirt. “If you’re going to insist on recording, at least ensure my best angles are captured. I won’t have my efforts wasted on poor cinematography.”

You weren’t sure anyone would survive this.

This was a mistake. A grave, irreversible, world-ending mistake.

You should have known better. You should have never brought up a Magicam trend to Malleus Draconia. The moment the words left your mouth, you felt a shiver — an instinctive, primal warning deep in your gut, telling you that you were about to witness something that mortal eyes were not meant to see. But it was too late.

Malleus had already set his book aside.

Had already stood to his full, monstrous height, the dim lighting of Diasomnia’s lounge casting long, imposing shadows across his frame. The air around him crackled faintly with energy, like the hum of a storm right before the first strike of lightning. His expression was calm, curious, but there was something unreadable beneath the surface — some silent, unknowable power stirring in the depths of his emerald gaze.

“Show my back?” His voice was as smooth as ever, but there was a glint of intrigue in his eyes. “Is that the nature of this challenge?”

You gulped. "Uh… yeah?"

His head tilted ever so slightly, the motion fluid, almost too graceful. “I see.” A thoughtful pause. And then, with zero hesitation — zero hesitation — Malleus reached up and unfastened the clasps of his high-collared coat.

And the world stopped.

The heavy fabric slid from his shoulders, folding onto itself in a way that seemed impossibly delicate for someone of his sheer size. He removed it with practiced ease, as if he had done this a thousand times before. It should have been elegant. It should have been effortless. But to you — it was catastrophic.

Because now, you could see everything.

And everything was devastating.

Malleus was inhuman. There was no other way to describe it. His frame was sculpted, carved from something far beyond the flesh and blood of mortals. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his traps forming a sharp, sloping curve that led down to a back so defined that it looked like something out of a myth. His lats framed the length of his spine with an absurd level of precision, each muscle shifting in perfect synchrony as he rolled his shoulders back. His posture was impeccable, his stance unwavering. Every single movement was controlled, deliberate, yet terrifyingly natural.

But it wasn’t just the size of him that had your soul leaving your body. It was the presence.

Malleus Draconia was too much.

His magic crackled through the air with an unrestrained hum, unseen but felt — a weight pressing against your chest, the charge of a storm waiting to be unleashed. His horns, ever so slightly curved, cast long shadows against the flickering candlelight. And then—

Then he stretched.

A slow, effortless roll of his shoulders, his head tipping back just slightly, exposing the column of his throat. His shoulder blades shifted beneath flawless, pale skin, his traps tightening before relaxing again. His lats flared for a fraction of a second — just long enough for you to register that he was dangerous, that his body was built for a kind of power that no ordinary person could fathom. His back muscles were alive, moving with a kind of fluid grace that was utterly hypnotic.

And then, Malleus reached up.

With an almost absentminded motion, he gathered his inky black hair with one hand, lifting it from his back to expose the full, unobstructed view of his physique. And gods help you — his spine curved, the muscles along his lower back shifting subtly with the motion, his waist narrowing into a taper that should not have been that unfairly well-proportioned.

You had never known fear like this.

Malleus glanced over his shoulder, curious at your prolonged silence. The movement sent another ripple through his muscles — smooth, effortless. “Does this suffice?”

You tried to speak. Failed.

Your soul had departed.

“Child of Man?” His voice was tinged with genuine concern now, because of course Malleus had no idea what he had just done to you. The very concept of thirst traps, of Magicam trends designed to reduce people into feral masses — he had no understanding of it. He had simply obeyed your request with the same grace he did everything else, not realizing that he had just single-handedly obliterated whatever shred of composure you had left.

Your hands were shaking as you tried to steady the Magicam feed. You weren’t even sure if you were still recording at this point. You weren’t even sure if you were still alive.

“Are you well?” Malleus asked again, his brows knitting together in mild concern. “You seem.. unwell.”

Unwell?

You were about to combust.

Diasomnia’s dorm had never known such an abrupt drop in sanity. The moment this hit Magicam, NRC would not survive.

And Malleus — the absolute menace — merely blinked in quiet amusement before rolling his shoulders one last time, then carefully refastening the clasps of his coat.

As if he hadn’t just committed an act of war.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #x reader #twisted wonderland vil #vil schoenheit #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twst scenarios #twst x you #twst malleus #twisted wonderland x you #vil shoenheit x reader

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true-blue-sonic · 3 days ago

Text

I finished the fanfic ^-^ I'm still not over Silver's utterly unamused facial expression, I love it so much <3 XD I hope you like the fic!💙🤍

☆☆☆☆☆

Only Fair

With a grin Sonic sneaks closer to his unsuspecting upcoming victim of mischief.

One day, when Tails had been a few weeks shy of turning five, he’d didactically insisted to Sonic that foxes were Predators who Hunted, and he thusly was also Very Skilled at Hunting. Sonic had laughed and urged him to show off his best hunting tactics… and he’d promptly ended up with a fox cub flinging himself right at his face before getting two fluffy namesakes stuck in his quills.

Sonic doesn’t have any large tails to get snagged in Silver’s, but that is only beneficial for the cheeky idea forming in his mind at the unexpected sight of the psychic.

It’d been a while since they’d last seen each other, a few days of Silver being in the past but not being around. Sonic thus also had had little opportunity to talk to him, and even less to tease and play coy. But that all will change imminently: Silver’s eyes are trained on the horizon above, the psychic sitting sprawled against a tree trunk with his legs crossed and arms sprawled out next to his sides. Enjoying the sky and the warmth of the afternoon sun, Sonic knows. Silver is plenty focal about his enjoyment of little things like that.

But it does mean he’s distracted entirely too. Silver already is a perfect participant for the silly ideas Sonic has sometimes to amuse them both, but his current lack of attention spared for the surroundings only work in Sonic’s favour. And thus, the speedster crouches… presses his feet into the ground and shifts them minutely to check if it won’t make any sounds…

In one fell swoop he shoots over, and Silver has been snagged off the ground and hoisted into his arms in the blink of an eye.

Grey quills spike right up, the hedgehog’s body tensing in Sonic’s arms and a sharp breath drawn. But Sonic grins his most coy, suave smirk, giving Silver the smallest of jostles. “Heh. Gotcha! Long time no see, Silver.”

Golden eyes blink. Then move up and down and up to regard Sonic all over, one of Silver’s eyebrow raising in a manner perhaps best described as unamused. The silent seconds stretch out between them as Sonic gets beheld, the speedster wriggling his own brow in turn all smugly…

Before a grin forms on Silver’s face as well.

And Sonic blinks, his whole body enveloped in a liquid-like cool before he can so much as react.

“Heh. Is this a joke?” Silver smirks back… and Sonic squeaks as he gets yoinked away from his pal, off the ground and into the sky as well, and he’s left floundering his arms and legs to get a grip on nothing.

“Awwww, Silver!” he protests at his companion, who is also floating; but where Sonic is forced into an undignified struggle, Silver’s one hand moves casually behind his head and the other twists its fingers to make Sonic spin slow, teasing circles. “That’s not fair! That's cheating.”

Silver leans back a bit into the air, looking altogether smug. “Is not. And why are you trying to get the jump on me?”

“Just testing out my hunting skills,” Sonic’s grinned response comes. It earns him a curious look and a shrug, those fingers curling back towards Silver and the speedster bobbing over to him anew.

“But I captured you now,” the psychic remarks. “So you failed."

With crossing arms Sonic huffs. “I did get you first.”

“Yeah, for like ten seconds.” Carefully Sonic gets lowered onto Silver’s chest, psychokinesis dissipating around him. “So that makes my hunting skills better.”

“I’d love to see you try out your hunting skills without your powers next time,” Sonic grins back, leaning closer so their noses brush together. A challenge and a loving nuzzle combined, though for Silver it seems to be the latter, considering the happy rumble that reverberates in his chest as he smushes their foreheads together.

“After I’m done enjoying the sunset. Wanna join me?”

Shyly Sonic’s head falls in the crook of Silver’s shoulder; he’s no stranger to being held by the psychic, but his cheeks always grow red at how easily those touches and actions come to the other. But the speedster smiles all the same, shifting until he’s found a comfortable way to lie. Who cares that it’s in the air and on Silver, and not on the ground? “Anytime,” he assures his pal, enjoying the gentle bopping in the air and the way Silver’s chest rises and falls and the sunbeams that caress his fur, until the sky has long turned dark and Silver gently deposits the both of them onto the ground anew.

And very suspiciously keeps dilly-dallying beside the tree despite Sonic’s statement he’s gonna go away now, the speedster barely able to stifle his chuckles as he pads into a random direction.

Mercifully Silver does not have two long tails either: the way Sonic goes from walking with fake carelessness to crashing right into the ground from the weight slamming into his back with a triumphant cry is enough to mess up his quills anyway. “Gotcha!!” Silver croons from atop of him as Sonic spits out a handful of grass. “I am the best hunter!”

“You are,” Sonic agrees, a tad muffled… before huffing in amusement as the weight dissipates and he gets picked up by psychokinesis once more. Though, instead of being made to float slow, teasing circles, now it places him most snugly in Silver’s arms instead, bundled right into that downy white mane of his.

“That’s only fair,” the psychic grins as Sonic raises an amused eyebrow, before getting off the ground and flying into the night. With a laugh Sonic slings an arm around the other’s neck to keep him steady, comfortably dangling his feet and thanking the cover of the night for hiding his blushes every time Silver’s breath caresses his cheek.

Even if it’s flustering, he can accept becoming an unsuspected victim of mischief himself if it’s from Silver, after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

carry

#sonilver #sonic the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #blue's writing #I think Silver would startle when getting jumped on like that haha #but he can probably stop his powers from launching people into the stratosphere if he realises in time what's going on #which he did here (luckily for Sonic) <3 XD #I hope you enjoyed!🍀#sonic the hedgehog fanfiction

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imsofreakingtired · 3 days ago

Note

Hi! First of all, I love your work so much, you have me crying and kicking my feet at the same time.

I'd like to put in a request for a plus-sized reader? If that's something you can do. Something about yearning from afar? She's so sweet and Sev's so not. She's worried she'd taint the pure soul she watches from across the bar only to find out the lamb wants the wolf just as bad.

(I low-key just want some plus-sized rep :/)

SUCH A CUTE REQ AAA also, “the lamb wants the wolf just as bad” WHAT A LINE HELLO??? i hope i did it justice 🙏

i wish i found love

content warning(s): none! just fluff, mutual pining, useless lesbians, mild suggestive content, happy ending

"sometimes i wonder if you'll ever let me in i wonder if i'm ever gonna find somebody i cry and i cry and i cry and i cry out to the heavens why won't you just send me somebody?"

Sevika is sure she is going insane.

She’d be lying if she said you didn’t catch her eye the moment you walked into the Last Drop that one night. There was something about the way you moved, the ringing song of your laughter that found its way across the room to her ears—a sound she desperately tried to ignore as she scowled down at her card game, puffing away at her third cigarette. She had lost two rounds in a row because she was straining for scraps of the conversation you were in. Trying every possible subtle tactic to find out who you were, where you came from. Cursing the noises of a late night bar that drowned out what you were saying.

Tonight is like most—there you are, sitting with a new companion on the other side of the bar, perfectly manicured nails tapping idly on the side of your glass as you give the other person a winning smile. When you stand up to order a second drink, Sevika watches your movements and swallows hard. You’re wearing a blouse and pants that hug your figure, showing off every curve in the shifting neon lights of the Last Drop. Making the very air around you look expensive.

And your eyes. Fathomless yet bright. The innocent curl of your lips when you give the lucky bastard across the table one of those smiles. The secrets sitting in the corners of your mouth.

Who is she?

“Hey chief,” says Grems, one of her gambling mates. “You’re showin’ all your cards.”

She glances at him. “Round’s over.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Clear out.”

The men exchange glances with one another, but they obey, grabbing up their winnings. Sevika sits back in her chair and lights another cigarette.

✨—✨

At the bar, you lean closer and beckon to Chuck. He comes over, glancing nervously in Sevika’s direction. Everyone can already see that Sevika has claimed you as hers—they can see the way she watches you, the way she raises her head to attention when she sees you come into the bar. But when he looks over at Sevika, she turns her head away.

“Chuck,” you say. “Don’t look so scared. She’s staring at me again, isn’t she?”

“Uh…”

You give him the irresistible smile you throw at strangers from whom you need information. He falls for it.

“C’mon, tell me. Who is she?”

“She…she’s Silco’s right hand,” he stammers. “You know. The Brute.”

You sigh impatiently. “Gotta give me better than that. What’s her name.”

“Sevika.”

“Sevika,” you muse. “Thanks, Chuck.” You pat him on the shoulder and take your drink. You make sure to walk the long way round back to your table, and you can feel Sevika’s grey eyes burn in front of you. Just as you pass her, you tilt your head and let your eyes make contact with hers. Time seems to slow down. She looks at you cooly through the cigarette smoke, but her surprise shows in the way her brows lift slightly.

Then the moment passes, you sit back down at your table.

Your companion continues the conversation, but you barely hear a third of what they’re saying. Your thoughts keep wandering over to Sevika, who has left her tab on her table and now disappeared up the stairs. You know for sure she’s interested—she’s been watching you since you first began to frequent the Last Drop—why hasn’t she made a move?

✨—✨

The truth is that Sevika is scared to approach you.

That’s right, she thinks to herself, a wry smile on her face as she leans back into the couch in her empty apartment, slightly sweaty after touching herself to you, heart racing in her chest. Sevika of the fucking fissures, scared to talk to a woman as if she's some adolescent.

She has borne the title Brute of the Underground like an afterthought, something she took for granted, a kind of placard to frame over the blood on her hands. But now it feels like a curse or a jinx, because she can’t think of your soft skin without thinking of the roughness of her own. She wants to feel your body against hers, she wants to kneel and drown in your sweet scent. But then she thinks of your laugh. The way you smile, nose wrinkling.

How could she ever deserve to receive a smile like that?

She imagines you recoiling from her, disgust clouding your pretty features. She imagines herself, massive and clumsy—nothing but muscle and scars and callused skin. She compares herself to you in a fantasized mirror and she can’t see a possibility of you ever wanting her the way she wants you.

One night she is at her usual table, alone for once, making adjustments to her mechanical arm. A glass of whiskey sits among the tools and ashtray. She looks up listlessly as she takes a sip, returns to her work. When she looks up again you’re standing in front of her.

Sevika nearly chokes. You’ve caught her off-guard, and you can see it. You can’t help but smile at her obvious embarrassment.

“Mind me sitting here?”

Without waiting for a reply, you sit down across from her.

“I work nearby,” you say matter-of-factly. “I was thinking since you come here often as well, maybe we could have a drink together every now and then.”

“Uh,” says Sevika.

“Name’s Sevika, right? I’ve gotta run now, but can I claim you tomorrow night?”

“Um.”

You take that as a yes. As you walk by her, she can smell the sweet scent of your hair. She doesn’t see the triumphant smile on your face as you leave the bar. She also realizes too late that she never got your name.

✨—✨

-> thank you @practicalgauntlet for the request! -> dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

#curvy women you are the goddesses that walk this mortal planet #i love u and sevika does too xx #song: i wish by hayley kiyoko #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika fluff #soft sevika #sevika #arcane #plus sized reader #femme reader

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euphoria-looney · 3 days ago

Text

Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

m. list|next

"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option.

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward.

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point.

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?”

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?”

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up, you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him.

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.”

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it.

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.”

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off.

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

#platonic batfam #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #batfam x neglected reader #batfam #neglected reader

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