#was i too serious? i think i was too serious...

[pucksandpower]

Fourth Time’s the Charm

Max Verstappen x Norris!Reader

Summary: it starts, as all the best things do, with a bet (“If I win the race tomorrow and take the championship, you owe me a favor. Anything I want.”)

Note: thank you so much to @altxanna for the fantastic idea

The lights of the Las Vegas strip pulse outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse, but neither of you cares. You’re both tangled up in each other under the covers, limbs lazily draped and intertwined. The TV is playing some action movie you both stopped paying attention to an hour ago, the volume low, serving as nothing more than background noise.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” you say, your voice soft as you trace a finger along Max’s arm, admiring the way his muscles shift beneath his skin.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs, resting his head against the pillow. His accent wraps around the words in a way that feels so familiar it’s comforting.

“About the race?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Max turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes catching the dim light from the window. “What else would I be thinking about?”

You hum, tilting your head in mock thought. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about how your girlfriend is ridiculously good-looking? Or how lucky you are to have me?”

His lips quirk into a smile, the kind that’s as much in his eyes as it is on his face. “You’re right. I should focus on what really matters.” He shifts slightly, leaning closer to you. “You’re ridiculously good-looking, and I’m very lucky.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder lightly. “That’s better.”

He catches your hand before you can pull it away, his fingers lacing with yours. His expression grows more serious as he says, “But yes, I’m thinking about the race. I’m thinking about winning.”

You roll your eyes at the sheer confidence in his tone. “You think you’re going to win.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Think? I know I’m going to win. You don’t believe in me?”

“Oh, I believe in you,” you say, smirking. “I just also believe in my brother. And if Lando finishes ahead of you, the title fight goes to Qatar.”

He groans dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “Don’t remind me. The idea of dragging this out another week …”

“What, scared Lando might pull it off?”

He narrows his eyes at you, feigning offense. “Scared? Me? No. I’m just saying it would be … inconvenient.”

“Uh-huh.” You grin, shifting onto your side to face him fully. “I don’t know, Max. Lando’s been looking pretty good lately. He might surprise you tomorrow.”

Max’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re really going to sit here, in my bed, and tell me your brother is going to beat me?”

“I’m just saying it’s possible,” you tease.

He shakes his head, but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Alright, then. If you’re so confident, let’s make it interesting.”

Your eyebrows lift. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

“A bet,” he says simply.

You prop yourself up on your elbow, intrigued. “A bet?”

Max nods, his smirk growing. “If I win the race tomorrow and take the championship, you owe me a favor. Anything I want.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

You consider it for a moment, then ask, “And if Lando finishes ahead of you?”

“Then you get a favor. Anything you want.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too broadly. “You really think you’re that unbeatable, huh?”

“I know I am,” he says, his confidence practically radiating off him.

“Alright, Verstappen,” you say, holding out your hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

He clasps your hand in his, his grip firm but warm. “Deal.”

You let your hand linger in his for a moment before pulling it away. “So, what’s this big favor you’re going to ask for if you win?”

He leans back against the pillows, his smirk turning devilish. “You’ll find out when I win.”

“If you win,” you correct, lying back down beside him.

“I’ll win,” he says confidently, his voice low as his hand trails down your back.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he says, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest.

You can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and for a moment, the room falls quiet. It’s peaceful in a way you don’t get to experience often, and you savor it.

“You know,” you say after a while, your voice quiet, “if Lando does win tomorrow, it’s not because you’re not good enough. He’s just …”

“Your brother?” Max finishes, his tone teasing.

You laugh softly. “Yeah, that too. But he’s been working so hard for this, Max. You both have. It’s … complicated.”

He runs a hand through your hair, his touch gentle. “I know. But on the track, it’s not complicated. It’s just me, the car, and the finish line. No brothers, no girlfriends. Just racing.”

You tilt your head to look up at him. “And what about after the race?”

“After the race …” He pauses, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “After the race, I’m just me. And you’re just you. That doesn’t change, no matter what.”

You don’t respond right away, letting his words sink in. Then, with a small smile, you say, “You’re really not scared at all, are you?”

“Of Lando? No,” he says, his voice light. “Of you? A little.”

You laugh, shoving him lightly. “Good. You should be.”

He catches your hand again, this time pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’ll remember that.”

You let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing against his. “You’d better get some sleep, Verstappen. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

He hums in agreement, but instead of pulling away, he leans in, pressing his lips to your neck. “One more kiss,” he murmurs against your skin.

You close your eyes, your breath hitching slightly. “Just one?”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk returning. “Maybe two.”

You shake your head, laughing softly as he pulls you back under the covers.

And for now, the world outside doesn’t matter.

***

The final lap of the Las Vegas Grand Prix feels endless. The crowd’s roar grows louder with every corner, drowning out even the hum of the engines. Your hands are clammy as you grip the edge of your seat in the Red Bull garage, your eyes glued to the screen. Max’s car slices through the neon-lit streets of Vegas, and Lando is right behind him.

It’s close. Too close.

“Come on, Lando,” you mutter under your breath, though your heart isn’t entirely in it.

Max is P5. Lando is P6. A single position apart. If it stays this way, the championship is Max’s.

You’re not sure who you’re rooting for anymore.

The chequered flag waves as Max crosses the line, and your both heart drops and soars. P5. It’s done.

“MAX VERSTAPPEN, YOU ARE THE 2024 WORLD CHAMPION!” GP’s voice explodes over the team radio, his excitement nearly incomprehensible.

Max’s laughter comes through the speakers, unrestrained and wild. It’s a sound you know all too well — relief, joy, triumph all rolled into one.

“Yessss!” Max shouts. “That was incredible! Thank you so much for this season!”

You can’t help the smile tugging at your lips, even as the realization sinks in. He won. He really won.

The camera cuts to the Red Bull garage, where the team is in chaos — cheers, hugs, champagne spraying already. Christian adjusts his headset, leaning in to speak.

“Max, congratulations, mate. What an unbelievable season. You’ve done it again.”

“Thanks, Christian. Four in a row — unreal.”

You watch the screen as Max’s car slows on the cooldown lap, weaving slightly in celebration. You know him well enough to see it, even through the helmet — the ease in his shoulders, the grin he must be wearing.

Then his voice cuts through the radio again, this time steadier, more purposeful.

“And just so you know, I’m calling in my favor now.”

Christian’s confused laugh is audible even through the crackling radio. “Your favor? What are you talking about?”

You freeze, the air catching in your lungs.

Max chuckles, low and mischievous. “I had a bet with my girlfriend. I told her I’d win tonight. She owes me a favor, and I know exactly what I want.”

Your stomach flips, a mixture of dread and anticipation.

GP’s voice comes through, confused but amused. “Are we supposed to know what this favor is?”

“No, no,” Max says, his tone casual but firm. “But you’ll find out soon enough.”

Christian presses again, trying to pry it out of him. “Come on, Max. What’s the favor?”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels deliberate, like Max is savoring the moment.

“I want to marry her. Tonight. Right here in Vegas.”

The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, your pulse racing.

GP bursts out laughing. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Max replies, his voice steady, no hint of hesitation.

You sit frozen, your heart thundering in your chest. Did he just-

“Max,” Christian says, a mixture of disbelief and laughter in his tone, “does she even know about this?”

“She does now,” Max says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

The team radio falls silent for a moment, and the TV commentary fills the void as the podium finishers begin to line up. But you barely register any of it.

Max is proposing. No — not proposing. Declaring.

The camera pans to his car as he pulls into parc fermé, the four-time World Champion. The team swarms him, pulling him from the car, hoisting him into the air. The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but all you can think about is his voice in your head.

“I want to marry her. Tonight.”

You barely notice when someone taps your shoulder, Max’s PR officer. “You should get down to the celebrations,” she says, her voice brimming with excitement. “He’ll want you there.”

Your legs feel like jelly as you stand, weaving through the sea of Red Bull personnel to get to the barriers.

***

When you finally see him, his helmet is off, his face flushed from the race and grinning so wide it’s like he’s glowing. He spots you instantly, cutting through the crowd like no one else exists.

“Max,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“You heard me,” he says, his voice low but firm, his eyes locked on yours. “I want to marry you tonight.”

You stare at him, still trying to catch up. “You’re insane.”

He steps closer, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Probably. But I’m serious.”

“Max, you just won a world championship,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re supposed to be celebrating, not-”

“I am celebrating,” he interrupts, his voice softening. “With you. And I don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve known for years that I want you. Why wait?”

Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest. “This is insane. People don’t just get married in Vegas on a whim.”

He tilts his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “People do it all the time, actually.”

“Max-”

“I love you,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “I love you, and I want to start the rest of my life with you. Tonight. Right now.”

You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you — the team, the media, everyone waiting for your reaction. But in this moment, it’s just the two of you.

“Say yes,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “Say yes, and let me win you, too.”

You laugh, a shaky, breathless sound that comes out more like a sob. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.”

You take a deep breath, your hand tightening around his. “Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The smile that breaks across his face is pure joy, unfiltered and blinding. He pulls you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as the team around you erupts into cheers.

“Alright, Verstappen,” you say, laughing as he spins you. “You’ve got your favor. Let’s get married.”

***

The wedding chapel is everything you expected it to be: over-the-top, tacky in the most endearing way, and bathed in flickering neon lights. A bright red Cadillac is parked out front, its headlights beaming into the frigid Vegas night. Inside, the carpet is a deep, gaudy red, and plastic flowers line the aisle. The faint smell of cigarettes lingers in the air, clinging to the cheap velvet curtains.

It’s surreal, to say the least.

“This is insane,” you mumble, standing in a side room with Lando, who’s staring at you like he’s still trying to process what’s happening.

“You think this is insane?” He replies, pointing vaguely toward the chapel. “What about the fact that you’re marrying Max Verstappen in a Vegas chapel at 3 a.m. with a guy dressed as Elvis officiating?”

You groan, adjusting the makeshift bouquet of roses someone from the Red Bull team had pulled together. “Don’t remind me.”

Lando smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t think I have to. This is going to live in my head rent-free for the rest of my life.”

You shoot him a look. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”

“Are you kidding?” He folds his arms, the grin never leaving his face. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Besides, who else is going to walk you down the aisle?”

Your stomach flips at the thought. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Lando softens a little, stepping closer. “Hey,” he says, his voice quieter now, “you sure about this? I mean, it’s Max. And Vegas. And Elvis.”

You bite your lip, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “I’m sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, meeting his eyes. “I love him, Lando. He’s ridiculous, and he drives me insane, but I love him.”

Lando watches you for a moment, then sighs dramatically. “Well, I guess if anyone’s crazy enough to keep up with Max, it’s you.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say dryly, but your smile betrays you.

There’s a knock on the door, and one of the chapel staff pokes their head in. “We’re ready for you.”

Your heart leaps into your throat.

Lando claps his hands together, his grin back in full force. “Alright, let’s do this.”

***

The chapel is even more ridiculous than you’d imagined. A man dressed as Elvis stands at the altar, adjusting his oversized sunglasses and strumming a guitar idly as he waits. Max is already there, looking completely at ease, as if this is just another podium ceremony.

When he sees you, his face lights up, and any lingering nerves you had melt away.

“You ready?” Lando whispers, offering his arm.

“As I’ll ever be,” you whisper back, looping your arm through his.

The music starts — a surprisingly heartfelt rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” sung by Elvis — and you can’t help but laugh under your breath.

“You’re walking down the aisle to Elvis,” Lando says, shaking his head. “Unreal.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, though you’re smiling.

The walk feels like it takes forever and no time at all. Max’s gaze is fixed on you the entire time, his expression soft and unguarded in a way you don’t see often. By the time you reach him, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Lando hands you off with an exaggerated sigh. “Take care of her. She’s the only one who can put up with you.”

“Don’t worry,” Max says, smirking as he shakes Lando’s hand. “I plan to.”

Lando steps back, but not before whispering, “If you hurt her, I’ll crash you out next season.”

Max laughs, then turns back to you, his hands finding yours.

“You look amazing,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“I look ridiculous,” you whisper back.

His grin widens. “Even better.”

Elvis clears his throat, drawing your attention. “Alright, folks, let’s get this show on the road!”

The ceremony is exactly as absurd as you’d expected, and yet somehow, it feels perfect.

“Dearly beloved,” Elvis begins, his voice smooth and practiced, “we are gathered here tonight to witness the union of Max and …” He pauses, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

You realize no one ever told him your name.

“Uh,” you startle back to reality for a moment, “Y/N.”

“Max and Y/N,” Elvis continues smoothly, as if this sort of thing happens all the time.

He launches into the ceremony, peppering in car-themed metaphors and Elvis song references.

“Marriage,” he says at one point, “is a lot like a road trip. Sometimes it’s smooth sailing, sometimes you hit a few potholes, but as long as you’ve got each other, you’ll always find your way back to Graceland.”

You glance at Max, who’s barely holding back a laugh.

“Are you laughing at our wedding vows?” You whisper.

“I’m laughing at the potholes,” he whispers back.

Elvis continues, undeterred.

When it’s time for the personal vows, Max surprises you.

“I know this is all … unconventional,” he says, his hands still holding yours. “But that’s us, isn’t it? Unconventional. From the first time we met, I knew you were different. You don’t just keep up with me; you challenge me. You push me to be better, on and off the track. And you put up with all my nonsense, which is honestly impressive.”

You laugh, tears stinging your eyes.

“I promise to always be your biggest fan, even when you’re cheering for your brother,” Max continues, his voice softer now. “I promise to always fight for you, always support you, and always love you, no matter how crazy life gets.”

You’re not sure when the tears started falling, but they’re there, hot and fast.

“Your turn,” Elvis says, nodding at you.

You take a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “Max, you drive me crazy. You’re stubborn, competitive, and impossible to argue with. But you’re also kind, loyal, and the most passionate person I’ve ever met. You make me laugh when I don’t want to, and you make me believe in things I never thought I could.”

His eyes soften, and you squeeze his hands tighter.

“I promise to always stand by your side, even when you’re impossible. I promise to love you, challenge you, and never let you win a bet without a fight.”

Max grins, and the rest of the room seems to fade away.

When Elvis finally declares you husband and wife, it feels like the world stops.

“You may now kiss your bride,” he says with a flourish.

Max doesn’t hesitate, pulling you close and kissing you like the world outside doesn’t exist. The room erupts into cheers, Lando’s voice loudest among them.

When you finally pull away, Max leans his forehead against yours, his voice barely a whisper.

“We did it.”

You smile, your hands resting on his chest. “Yeah. We did.”

And just like that, Max Verstappen is your husband.

***

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter, chaos, and an overwhelming sense of unreality. The “reception” is cobbled together on the fly, with Red Bull team members and an assortment of drivers spilling out of limos and taxis into a nearby lounge they commandeer for the celebration.

Max stays close to you the entire time, his hand resting on your lower back or entwined with yours. Every time you glance at him, he’s already looking at you, his expression so full of love it makes your chest ache.

Eventually, you both slip away from the commotion, winding your way back to Max’s penthouse. The city hums below, the neon lights still pulsing with energy, but inside, everything feels quiet. Peaceful.

You’re curled up together in bed, the chaos of the night left behind, when Max finally speaks. “So,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence, “are you going to tell me what your favor would’ve been if you had won the bet?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think you’re ready for that, Verstappen.”

His brows lift, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, now you have to tell me.”

You tilt your head, feigning deep thought. “Well, it would’ve been something big. Something life-changing.”

His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Life-changing, huh? What, were you going to make me switch teams? Retire early?”

You smirk, letting the pause hang in the air just long enough for him to grow impatient. “A ring.”

Max blinks, caught off guard for a split second. “A ring?”

“Mm-hmm.” You trace lazy circles on his chest, pretending not to notice his stunned expression. “I was going to ask for a ring. But you, being Max Verstappen, had to be a few laps ahead and beat me to it. Like usual.”

His laughter bursts out, warm and unrestrained. “You’re telling me you were going to propose to me?”

You shrug, unable to keep the playful smile off your face. “What can I say? I wanted to beat you at your own game.”

Max shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you fully. His grin is impossibly wide, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You married me,” you point out, grinning back.

“I did,” he agrees, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And I’d do it again. But I have to say, I think I prefer this version. Me proposing. You saying yes. Vegas. Elvis.”

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.” He’s still smiling, but his voice softens, turning serious. “I love you, you know. And I don’t care if it’s Vegas or a ten-minute ceremony or some ridiculous bet. This — us — feels right. It always has.”

Your teasing expression falters, replaced by something softer. “I love you, too. Even if you are insufferable.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Insufferable and married. To you. Forever.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Forever, huh?”

“Forever,” he repeats firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And just for the record, I would’ve said yes if you’d proposed first.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His lips brush against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m glad I won this time.”

You laugh against his mouth, your arms winding around his neck as you pull him closer. “Don’t get used to it, Verstappen.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Verstappen.”

The name catches you off guard, and your heart stutters in your chest. Mrs. Verstappen. It’s ridiculous and perfect and makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“You like that?” He asks, clearly noticing your reaction.

You bite your lip, nodding. “I think I could get used to it.”

His grin returns, smug and full of mischief. “Good. Because you don’t have a choice now.”

You shake your head, laughing as you lean into him, letting the weight of the night settle around you. The city lights outside keep shining, the noise of Las Vegas carrying on far below, but in this moment, it’s just the two of you.

And that’s all that matters.

[deisbookofdemons]

"He sure loves wandering huh." Yellow commented. Little guy may have also been granted the power of speech.

Red spoke up. "Welcome to the Smithy Gang. We suggested your creations. Some sea weapons. Some that were made from the parts of robots. And we needed more girls as well."

@deisbookofdemons

"We didn't do anything, please let us out...!"

"Yeah, come on! This is crazy!"

Claymorton blinked as he sat up, rubbing his head from where he was being held. He could've sworn he heard some kid and... Mallow? He looked around, noticing that he was in some sort of... thing with glass? All he knew was that there was a camera of some sort pointed at him, and the other capsule-looking things. "Hey wha--?! What's with the cameras! No pictures!" He then got up to his feet, then blinked as he noticed something missing. "Wh-where's my pogo-sword!?"

"What kind of place is this...?!" The rabbit kid asked, before looking around. "Cheese, Mr. Mallow, we've gotta get out of here!"

[gojoest]

“I can’t believe you let that guy hold your hand”

Satoru was upset. Really upset. You could see it all over his face — jaw clenched, brows furrowed, the vein on his forehead so swollen it was threatening to pop any second now.

“You are being ridiculous”, you sigh. He’s been at it for 3 hours now and you no longer have the energy to try and beat some sense into him, he’s not listening to you anyway. “Please stop”, you ask for what probably is the hundredth time.

“Okay”, he audibly breathes under his nose, but surely doesn’t sound the least bit convincing, nor does he look like he’s given up, judging by the way he’s fervently searching up something on his phone, tapping left and right, downloading all kinds of social apps. “What’s his name?"

“You’re not going to look him up now, are you?”

He can’t be serious, you try to reason internally. He’s just being too silly right now pretending to throw another jealousy fit to show you just how much he loves you and how crazy he is about you, you try to convince yourself.

Yet, the look in his eyes refutes all of your hopes.

He has gone mad. He really is after that guy.

“Bingo. Name, please”

“I don’t remember it”, you let out an exasperated whine.

“Fine, I’ll just have Ijichi track that homewrecker down, then I’ll go deal with him personally myself”

“…”, you sigh once again. “And then what?”

“I’ll cut his hand and burn it”, he nonchalantly blurts out, his eyes focused on his phone as he types out instructions to Ijichi, along with a photo attached to the message.

3 hours ago, when things went terribly wrong

As promised, you were showing Satoru your childhood albums.

He was very eager to see how the mini you looked backed in the day. Basking in the sight of your adorable self from the photos, gushing over your chubby cheeks and cute outfits, he was asking about the story behind each shot and curiously listening to you go on and on about the old times and the little you he didn’t know about.

…that was until a certain group photo from kindergarten caught Satoru’s eyes.

“What’s this”, he pointed at it.

“It’s a group pic from kindergarten when I was four, I think? The teachers made us pair up and hold hands for the photo, and I ended up with this boy here”

Silence. Something was off.

Satoru wasn’t reacting the way he was to the other pictures. His smile was frozen on his lips but it was gone from his eyes, and he was unusually quiet too. The aura he was giving off was definitely eerie, and not the least bit loving.

“Yeah?”, Satoru spoke in a dull voice. “And you let him hold your hand?”

“What?”, you blinked twice. “I—, what?”

“You let another man touch you?”

“A man? He was four, and so was I — we were children, Satoru”, you, in complete disbelief, try to laugh it off. There was no way he could be actually upset about and jealous over something so ridiculous (he was in fact very upset and very jealous, and yes, over something so ridiculous).

“It doesn’t change the fact that this bastard touched what’s mine”, he was gritting his teeth.

“I wasn’t yours back then”, and you were pouring oil into the fire.

“Look, just because we didn’t know each other doesn’t mean you weren’t mine. You were always mine, you just didn’t know it. But that guy—”

You cut him off, “Alright”, and took the photo album from his lap, closing it shut and tucking it under your armpit. “We’re done looking at my childhood pictures”

“Why? Are there more guys holding your hand in there?”, he protested in a high-pitched voice.

“…”

“Oh my god?”, he cried out. “There are?”

Yes, there were. And if he kept looking, by the end of the day, he would turn into a mass murderer.

a/n: mind you, the rest of the pictures are all on friendly terms too, purely platonic. but better safe than sorry! AHAHAH

[luveline]

If you are still writing for bombshell x Spencer could you write something from early seasons when he had feelings for JJ 👉🏻👈🏻

Hotch told you once that he was tempted to put an automatic lock on the office doors, so that he can lock them when he sees you coming during your working hours. 

He has yet to follow through. You slip in through the doors and take a deep breath. It smells like coffee, printer paper, all the same stuff as your own office, but your office doesn’t have Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, or Spencer Reid. 

“Neither does this one, apparently,” you mumble to yourself, casting your gaze around the room to no avail. The boys aren’t here. 

Emily’s sitting at her desk. She’s new, you’re jealous of her job, but she’s gorgeous. You won’t mind sitting at Spencer’s desk until they get back. “Hello,” you drawl, setting down in Spencer’s chair comfortably. 

Emily’s mildly startled. “Hey?”

Spencer’s desk is an explosion. You debate cleaning up for him. What if you put something in the wrong place? It’ll be more annoying than helpful. “How are things?” you ask, pushing Spencer’s chair back, and kicking a leg over your knee, high heel bobbing. 

“What?” 

You smile at her. Flirting, just a little, but your concern is real. “How are things going, Prentiss? With you?” 

“They’re good. Yeah. I just moved into my new place.” 

Bless her for not knowing what to do with you. She doesn’t have practice like the rest. “A new place? Where to?” 

She relaxes while you talk. Her apartment overlooking Kingman, her cat’s annoyance at the new smells and the long case time away. “Spencer says that cats aren’t capable of holding grudges, but Sergei can.” 

“He’s cute, isn’t he? He knows a fun fact for everything.” 

Emily sits up. You can see the excitement of a secret in her dark eyes. “He’s adorable. His little crush on JJ is so sweet, I’ve tried to give him some advice but he’s totally stuck on her.” You falter. And Emily, profiler in training, she catches it. Her lips part, startled. “You’re not–”

“I had no idea Spencer had a little crush,” you breathe, sitting up with a smile. “For how long? What about JJ, is she interested in him?” You hug your hands together. “You know, I think they’d make a cute couple.”

“Well, I heard they went to a football game together, but I don’t know when. Before I got here, at least.” 

What? “That’s fun.”

“I don’t think it’s serious.”

You tip your head back and the heavens have opened, Derek Morgan’s making his way toward you with a grin and a hand reaching for you. “Sweetheart, where have you been?” he asks. “It’s been weeks, I was starting to miss you.” 

You texted him a few days ago about a property nearby for rent, and you had coffee the day after to hear his advice on the area, so he’s just making stuff up. “Hi, Derek.” 

You get up and let him hug you. You deserve it. You’re beautiful and fun and smart, and you deserve a handsome man rubbing your arm and telling you he missed you. “How much?” you ask warmly. 

“Like a hole in the head.” 

Hotch is behind him. And there, the surprise item of the afternoon, Spencer Cheating Reid. 

“Hi, Hotch,” you say. 

“I heard something about you I’d rather not repeat,” he says. 

“Hotch, the details were wildly exaggerated, and I was less at fault than you might think.”

“I thought it was entirely your fault.” He shakes his head. “You’re shooting yourself in the foot, doing things like that.” 

“Why, what did you do?” Spencer asks. 

You falter again. Everyone sees your insecurity: Hotch’s brow furrows deeper than it had been, Morgan pauses, and Spencer, to your panic, holds your eye as the emotion passes. “It’s not worth talking about,” you say, shrugging. 

“Try not to do it again,” Hotch says. “Morgan, with me.” 

“Uh, Hotch?” Emily speaks up. 

“You too, Prentiss.” 

He leads a procession up to his office. Morgan throws you a look like he wants to talk to you, but you’ve plastered unaffectedness over the wound again. Why does the idea of JJ and Spencer going on a date upset you? He’s a sweet guy, she’s a nice girl. Is it because you didn’t know? 

“You really haven’t been here in weeks,” Spencer says. 

“Missed me?” 

He holds the strap of his bag. “Yeah, I did.” 

What use does he have missing you? “I heard something interesting about you, Spencer.” 

“You did?”

He looks shy, pale, and worried. You forget sometimes how he’s not just your favourite dork, he’s a friend. And he doesn’t seem to have very many of them. 

Oh, you think, jealousy, you heartless monster. 

“The rumour mill says you aren’t sleeping enough,” you say gently. 

“I sleep fine.”

You put one kitten heel in front of the other and stay, squinting at him with a teasing suspicion. “That’s not what my informants have been telling me. You look tired, honey. You aren’t sleeping, or Hotch won’t let you?” 

“Both.” 

He does that playful smiley thing that makes you wanna scrunch his hair in your hands, like he knows he’s made a good joke. 

“Your case in Cincinnati sounded tough.” 

“Wait,” he says. 

“What?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Usually. Why?” 

“Are you okay right now?” 

“I’m fine.” You purse your lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Just– you– I don’t know, you didn’t seem like yourself. I didn’t mean to upset you, asking about that stuff. It’s none of my business, sorry.” 

“How are you feeling about physical touch today?” you ask. 

He seems to regard you with distrust, for a few seconds, like he’s worried you’re messing with him. “I’m okay with it,” he says eventually. 

You step into his space and touch his cheek gently, fingertip tapping into a beauty mark you often remember only when he’s in your reach. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you think that.” You drop your hand. “Just having a weird day.” 

“Me too.” 

Spencer puts his bag under his desk and mentions a video he found on profiling you might like by one of the old Unit Chief’s, SSA David Rossi. You steal Derek’s chair and sit knee to knee with him to watch it, Spencer’s cheeks turning dark with blush in the screen’s reflection. 

Can JJ make him blush like that? 

—

bombshell fics

[mysssticc]

Say I’m yours

Warning: nsfw, smut, cat Sylus

“Say I’m yours”

Sylus's words barely registered in your brain, his movements overwhelming you as you struggled to focus. His hands held yours, pinning them above your head, his cat tail wrapping tightly around your thigh and his face buried against your neck, getting drunk in your scent, each touch of his making your body burn with desire.

"Say it, my lady," he ordered.

Your breath hitched as his thrust deepened, the sound of your moans and skin against skin filling the room.

"You- You're mine," you whispered, the words coming out in a breathless rush. He slowed his hips for a moment, seeing your struggle to get the words out.

"Again, louder," he commanded, his voice soft but insistent, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Sy-Sylus... you're mine," you said this time, your voice trembling but stronger than before.

"Keep saying it," he urged, his hips resuming hi rhythm, quickening as you wrapped your legs around him, your body moving along with his powerful thrusts.

"Mine," you whispered over and over again, your soft voice murmuring such possesive words bringing him closer to the edge.

Suddenly, his movements stopped completely as he pulled away from you, leaving you breathless and confused for a moment. Without a word, he repositioned you, laying you onto your stomach and placing a pillow under your hips.

He positioned himself on top of you, gently turning your face to his to give you a messy and desperate kiss as he pushes inside you again, his mouth capturing the moans that scape you as he starts pounding into you from behind.

His lips trailed across your skin, leaving marks that would last for days on your skin. His tail curled back around your thigh, grounding you in the moment.

You could feel the heat building in your lower stomach.

"Sylus..." you murmured, trying to let him know.

"I know, my lady," he said softly, he could feel you were close, his voice almost a growl as he kissed your shoulder. "Me too."

It was when he sneaked a hand between your legs and teased your clit that you finally reached your release, arching your back against his chest , your body trembling as the intensity of your climax reached its peak.

“F-fuck” you heard him groan behind you when he felt you clenching tightly around him, shaking slightly as his own climax reaches him, still moving with sloppy thrusts as he finishes inside you.

You feel Sylus’s relaxing as he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight, his breath uneven as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. Your bodies still shuddering from the intensity of it all.

"Sylus..." you murmured, coming back to yourself.

He groaned softly, allowing you to turn in his embrace, resting his head on your chest as you held him close. You could see his tail moving around lazily, content and relaxed.

You reached for your phone, checking the time and remembering the reason you were here. As much as you’d love to stay there with him in your arms, you had a mission to complete.

"Sylus," you said softly, tapping his back to get his attention. "We need to get presentable. We have to meet up with snowy owl soon."

He groaned, nuzzling further into your chest, tightening his arms around you unwilling to let you go just yet.

"Are you still going on about that?" he grumbled.

You shifted in his embrace, letting out a small sound of protest when you felt him still inside of you.

"Are you really going to sell me to her?" he asked, finally letting you sit up, though his grip on you remained firm.

You cradled his face with your hands, and caressed his cheeks softly.

“How about this? As soon as we finish this mission we can cuddle for as long as you wish” you stared into his red eyes trying to show him how serious you were about this.

He stared at you for a moment, his expression not revealing anything that went through his head.

“Fine…” he finally spoke ”but I think cuddling isn’t the only thing I’d want to do, sweetie” his hands that were on your waist tightened slightly, trying to subtly tell you what his intentions were.

You blushed slightly, your pulse quickened with desired at the thought of what could happen between you two in just a few hours.

You smiled sheepishly, leaning closer to him and brushing your lips against his.

“That’s fine by me” you whispered, sealing your words with a hungry kiss.

[vanillamatt]

vanillamatt .. talkingstage!chris & reader

matt trying to convince chris to get out of the talking stage - based on their recent ‘suspect’ tiktok

you’ve been in the “talking stage” with chris for what feels like forever. casual texts, hanging out here and there, but nothing more serious. sometimes you catch him looking at you a little too long, or he gets all soft when you laugh, but when it comes to making things official, he never quite takes that step. it’s like he’s stuck in neutral, and you’re starting to wonder if you’re the only one actually waiting for more.

matt notices, of course. he always does. one night, after chris had been texting you for what felt like hours, matt had had enough. he plops down next to chris on the couch, arms crossed, eyeing his brother with a look that says he knows exactly what’s going on.

“you still doing this, huh?” matt says, his voice light but there’s an edge to it.

“doing what?” chris replies, not even looking up from his phone as his thumb swipes over the screen.

“playing it safe. with y/n.” matt leans forward, poking chris in the side. “dude this whole ‘talking stage’ is getting old.”

chris shifts uncomfortably, setting his phone down like he wasn’t just glued to it. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“come on,” matt says, rolling his eyes. “you like her. i see how you act when her name pops up on your phone. you’re basically glued to your texts with her, and whenever shes around, you act all weird, like you’re trying to hide it, but it’s obvious, man.”

chris looks at him, slightly defensive but also a little lost. “it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t wanna rush things, you know?”

matt shakes his head, leaning back. “you’ve been not rushing for months now. she’s probably waiting for you to do something, but you’re just sitting there like a bitch, acting like everything’s fine. if you don’t make a move, you’re gonna lose your shot.”

chris looks conflicted, glancing at his phone again. he’s silent for a moment, clearly thinking about what matt said, but there’s still that hesitation in his eyes. matt sighs.

“you’ve got to stop being scared, man. if you keep playing it safe, you’re never gonna get anywhere. either you take the risk and find out, or you keep pretending like you’re not into her.”

there’s a long pause, the tension between them thick, before chris finally groans, running a hand through his hair. “you really think i should just… text her? tell her how i feel?”

matt smirks, leaning back against the couch. “hell yeah. if you don’t, i’m gonna do it for you.”

“alright, alright,” chris mutters, picking up his phone. “but you better not say anything to her.”

“promise,” matt says, grinning. “just make sure you don’t screw it up.”

chris lets out a small laugh and starts typing, his fingers moving slow at first, then faster, as if he’s convincing himself more than anyone else. matt watches, arms folded, a look of satisfaction on his face.

it’s about time.

a/n - i feel this is something that would happen

[fleurvi]

Sick!S/O | Arcane Women

request for arcane women with a sick gf

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: fem!reader

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa doesn't really take care of you when you're sick. She's a warrior, not a doctor. But we're delusional here, so I'll go with it.

You are not allowed to lift a finger. You need to recover properly so she'll have guards around you at all times so you can order them to get things for you. She visits you regularly to check up on your health and make sure you're being doted on. In a rare occurrence, she offers you a massage to relax you.

“How are you feeling?” Ambessa asks, heavy hands working against your shoulders and neck. You nod, thanking her for her service. “Maybe a bath would do you good.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

Cait panics. She can't think rationally at all. You cough once, and she's writing a eulogy. When she's sure it's not super serious, she's diligent in her care. She makes sure you stay hydrated and get plenty of rest.

“What are you doing? You should be resting,” says Cait as she notices you getting out of bed.

“Babe, c'mon”

“No. Don't you ‘babe’ me. You should be taking care of yourself,” She fusses, ushering you back to your bed.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

Grayson believes that if you mope around In bed, you'll just make it worse. She lets you rest when you need it, but she encourages you just to take some painkillers, hydrate adequately and go about your work.

“Here you go,” Grayson says, handing you medication and water. “We've got a busy day. If it gets too much, just let me know, and I'll send you home to rest,” She says, pulling you into a hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

She just wants you to get better. Mel checks up on you but doesn't spend much time with you because she doesn't want to catch whatever you have. When she does visit you, she makes sure to ask if you're getting what you need and making sure you get it. She's mostly concerned about you resting, so she stays with you, talking softly with you until you fall asleep.

“Are you sure you're okay, my love?” She asks, running her hands over your back.

“Yeah, I think I need to sleep off. Thank you for coming to visit,” you say, closing your eyes.

“You're welcome, My Love”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

Sevika loves you, but she's not going to baby you. She'll ask you if you're on your deathbed, and if the answer is no, then you can get off your ass and help her with whatever business she's been called on.

If you want Sevika to help you with anything, you've got to turn on the whining. She likes being useful, so if you really need it, she'll sit with you until you fall asleep, but she won't wait for you to wake up. You're tough, like her, so she leaves you to it until you wake up and are ready to get back to work.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

Vi thinks her immune system is “built different”, and she's not entirely wrong. She'll stay with you, hold you while you sleep, and make sure you eat as well as you can in Zaun. If you tell her you're not really hungry, she will lecture you until you give in and at least try to eat.

“C'mon, pretty girl,” Vi says, leaning in to kiss you. You feel gross and push her head away.

“You'll get sick”

“Babe. My immune system is made of steel. I've never gotten sick in my life. Now come here and give me a proper kiss,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Fine. If you get sick, I'm not gonna baby you.”

“Yes, you will”, she laughs, and you know she's right.

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

Thank you for reading!

This was a request! My main interests right now are arcane and attack on titan so please keep dropping in my inbox!

[xinganhao]

✏️ scared freshmen chan x reader.

prompt: "helping a scared freshman despite also being a scared freshman." ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ fluff, cute & clingy!chan, slice-of-life. more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from @wollycobbl3-blr!

dino's declassified uni survival guide .ᐟ

survival guide to: making friends

attend the freshman year orientation event, no matter how lame you think it may be. sit through the whole thing. make small talk with your seatmate. when they assign you a 'buddy', jump at the chance of morally obligated friendship.

fuck trying to be cool and chill. 'be yourself' is painfully cliche advice, but they were on to something. what's the point of trying to act nonchalant or putting your best foot forward? be yourself, and you'll find the people who can appreciate that.

go to the school events. recruitment week? check. pep rally? check. going alone is alright. going with your orientation-sanctioned friend is preferable. the two of you can sit through the whole thing judging other students and making comments about the performances. maybe you can make more friends by chatting up the other students around you, but, honestly? each other is plenty fine.

survival guide to: getting around

have a copy of the school map saved on your phone. keep it in your favorites folder. that way, you don't have to stop at those blown-up maps at every corner or so.

test out the advice of your peers. sometimes, their advice is just a little more reliable— they're coming from places of experience, after all. take, for example, the recommendations from your orientation buddy. take their suggestions to heart. the cafeteria they think is best, the coffee order they swear by. very serious business.

you'll eventually get a little more familiar with the ins and outs of campus. you'll carve out your own spaces and make your own set of friends. if some people eventually fall out with you, that's fine. if you still take a wrong turn every so often, that's fine, too. keep in touch with the people that you really do like. and don't panic about getting lost. sometimes, taking the wrong turn can lead to some pretty exciting stuff.

survival guide to: ... falling in love?

the turn of feeling something for your first friend at uni isn't exactly what i was referring to, but it is what it is. my initial advice still stands: come as you are. if you've always been a little annoying, if you don't know how to shut up and you're shameless in your affections, then keep that up. why be someone who you're not? what if they fall in love with that charade instead of who you really are?

some differences may be warranted, especially if you want to progress the relationship further. friends to lovers is a little complicated; the lines, tending to blur. flirt. or: attempt to flirt. remind them of how attractive you are. find ways to be around them, whether it's heading out for a beer or 'running' into them after their last class of the day. gifts are okay, but don't overdo it. maybe find some occasion for it, in case they ask why.

it's terrifying. being a freshman. making friends. falling in love [with a friend]. and yet i keep going back to yet another cliché: just because you feel fear, doesn't mean you can't do it. do it afraid. do it scared shitless. walk them home. give them the flowers. package the confession in a joke, if you must, but confess. put your heart in their hands and trust that it will be safe, there. that the gamble will pay off. that you— maybe, just maybe— will be loved right back.

survival guide to: dating

tba. i'm still figuring this one out. :-)

written by lee chan (2024).

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SAILOR SONG

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt have a comfy indoor date; baking together.

WARNING: Making out.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

'I saw her in the rightest way'

The kitchen was an absolute mess, a delightful, chaotic swirl of ingredients strewn across the counters, flour dusting the air, and the aroma of vanilla mixing with the sound of their favorite playlist softly drifting in from the living room. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the scene as Y/N stood at the counter, carefully measuring flour into a white-ish ceramic bowl. Beside her, Matt was leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed solely on her, watching her with an intensity that could have melted chocolate.

"Okay, so you just, like, throw the flour in, right?" Matt asked, breaking the comfortable silence, reaching for the open bag with the kind of reckless enthusiasm that spelled disaster.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively darting forward to stop him.

"Wait, wait- Matt, no!" But it was too late. A poof of flour erupted like a mini explosion, covering both of them in a soft, powdery cloud.

Matt froze, blinking through the haze, and then burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

"Oops." He said with that boyish grin of his, the one that made Y/N’s heart do a little flip every time.

She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, laughter bubbling up as she brushed flour off her cheek.

"You’re such a mess." She teased, shaking her head, her eyes sparkling.

"And yet, here you are teaching me." He shot back, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Guess that says something about you, huh?"

"Yeah." She said with a mock exasperated sigh. "That I’m a hopeless romantic who thinks you can actually learn how to bake."

Matt just grinned, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on her flour-dusted nose, making her scrunch it up adorably in response.

"Alright, lover boy." Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile. "Let’s try not to blow up the kitchen, okay? I need you to grab the sugar next."

"Yes, ma’am." Matt replied, snapping a playful salute before turning to rummage through the cupboard. He managed to grab the sugar jar without spilling anything this time - progress, she thought with a fond smile.

They continued to work side by side, the kitchen filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar. Y/N would occasionally reach out to correct Matt’s technique, her touch light but effective. Every time their hands brushed, Matt would flash her that lopsided grin that always made her cheeks warm. She tried to stay focused, but with him being so close, so effortlessly charming, it was a losing battle.

At some point, they both reached for the vanilla extract at the same time. Their fingers tangled, and Matt shot her a playful look.

"Hey, who’s the baker here?" Y/N teased, nudging him aside with her hip, her laughter light and teasing.

"I don’t know, I don't see them anywhere." He joked, pretending to search around the room, making her roll her eyes though the grin on her lips was impossible to hide.

They kept mixing and measuring, Matt’s enthusiasm both endearing and chaotic. Just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he made his biggest blunder yet. He grabbed the baking soda and dumped a generous amount into the bowl, not bothering with a measuring spoon.

"Matt, no!" Y/N gasped, her eyes wide with horror. "That’s way too much! You’re going to ruin the batter!"

Matt looked from the bowl to her, then back at the bowl, his eyes comically wide. But instead of panicking, he simply shrugged and started laughing, his laughter so infectious that Y/N’s frustration began to dissolve.

"Matt, I’m serious." She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This was supposed to be perfect, and now they’re going to taste like-"

"Hey, hey." Matt said softly, reaching out to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Come here, sweetheart. I'm sorry, yeah?"

Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his warm embrace. Y/N sighed, trying to hold onto her annoyance, but the way he was looking at her - with that soft, adoring gaze - made it nearly impossible.

As if the universe was observing them closely, te next song on the queue started playing, and when Matt realized that it was one of their favorite - Sailor Song by Gigi Perez, obviously - his body started swaying gently, bringing her with him.

"What are you doing?" She asked, trying not to smile, her voice softening as her hands found home against his biceps.

"Distracting you." He said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Is it working?"

Y/N tried to stay annoyed, but the tenderness in his eyes melted her defenses.

"You are so ridiculous." She said, but her words were softened by the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Ridiculously in love with you." He murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "Can you forgive me?"

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she let out a soft, defeated sigh, leaning into him fully.

"Fine." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. "But you’re still fixing the batter."

"Deal." He said with a grin. And before she could pull away, he spun her around in a quick twirl, eliciting a surprised, joyful laugh from her, her apron flowing around her body.

As she came back into his arms, breathless and giddy, her eyes met blue soft ones, shaking her head.

"You really are something else, Mr. Sturniolo."

"And you love me for it." He replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, the warmth of her against him.

"Yeah." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

With the playful moment fading into a comfortable silence, they returned to the counter, side by side once more. Y/N sighed dramatically, surveying the batter that was now slightly too foamy from Matt’s over-enthusiastic addition of baking soda.

"Okay, let’s see if we can salvage this." She said, her voice taking on that determined tone Matt found so adorable.

"How bad did I mess it up?" He asked, a wince escaping his lips.

"Not too bad." Y/N admitted with a small, fond smile. "We can balance it out with a little extra flour and sugar."

"Got it." Matt said, nodding eagerly as he grabbed the bag of flour, waiting for her instructions.

They worked together to fix the batter, Matt actually listening this time, his focus unwavering as Y/N explained what to do. After a few minutes of adjustments, Y/N dipped her finger into the batter for a taste test. Her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise.

"Hey, it’s actually good!" She exclaimed.

Matt’s face broke into a proud grin.

"See? I knew I could fix it." He said smugly.

"Mm-hmm." Y/N hummed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Pretty sure I did most of the fixing."

"But it was my idea to fix it." He countered, leaning in to press his lips against her warm cheek.

"Alright, let’s get these in the oven before you mess up anything else." Y/N said, lifting the tray carefully.

Her fingers were nimble as she adjusted the rack, carefully placing the cupcake tray into the preheated oven.

Matt couldn’t help but stop for a bit and just stare, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving her. There was something about watching her work, so effortlessly absorbed in what she loved, that made him feel as though the entire world had slowed to a gentle stop just for them.

It wasn't his fault. He reasoned to himself. It wasn't his fault he found everything she did so endlessly endearing, so worth watching with that starstruck gaze that his brothers teased him about. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers dusted with flour, her lips pursed slightly as she adjusted the oven dial; it all made his heart swell.

Y/N stood up, wiping her hands on her yellow apron and closing the oven door with a soft clink. She turned to grab the timer, only to notice the way Matt was staring at her, eyes sparkling with that familiar, dazed expression. He looked as if he were lost in a dream, his gaze so soft it made her heart skip a beat.

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, she tilted her head slightly and smiled shyly.

"What?" She asked with a soft laugh, setting the timer up. "Do I still have flour on my face?"

Matt didn’t answer right away, his eyes never wavering from hers. It was like he was in some kind of trance, completely mesmerized. After a few seconds, he finally blinked, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"Yeah." He said simply, his voice so low and gentle it made her stomach flip.

Before she could ask where, Matt stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her close. Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.

"Right here." He dipped his head and began to trail soft, lingering kisses along her jaw. His lips brushed tenderly against her skin, and with each kiss, he pulled a soft, breathless giggle from her lips. The sweet sound made him smile against her cheek, his eyes closing as he continued his path to her chin, and then to her cheeks, where he left playful kisses that were so light, they were almost ticklish.

"Matt." She breathed out, half-laughing, half-sighing, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. Her fingers traced slow circles over his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.

He paused, hovering just above her lips, so close that she could feel the ghost of his breath on her mouth but not quite touching her. His eyes were locked on hers, and there was a playfulness mixed with adoration in them that made her knees feel weak. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing her like this.

"Matt." She repeated, her voice a whisper now, filled with a hint of impatience.

"Yeah?" He murmured back, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.

"Kiss me properly." She demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?'

He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in just a fraction more, brushing his lips against hers, still not quite giving in. But Y/N, never one to be outdone, closed the remaining distance, pressing her lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss that sent warmth blooming through her chest.

Matt’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer as their kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Y/N’s hands wandered from his chest to his biceps, squeezing slightly at the firmness there, before sliding up to his shoulders and finally into his hair. She tugged gently, earning a soft sigh from him that she could feel warming up her face.

Their lips curved into smiles as they kissed, each touch and movement so full of affection it made Y/N’s heart feel light. Matt blindly started to sway their bodies again, following the slow rhythm of the indie song, his hands exploring the small of her back, fingers spreading wide as if he wanted to memorize every curve.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, no kitchen, no baking, just the soft, sweet connection between their lips and the feel of each other’s warmth.

But the intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, loud DING! from the oven.

The sound made Y/N jump slightly, pulling away from Matt with a startled gasp. Matt couldn’t help but laugh, the joyous sound filling the kitchen as he pressed one last, playful kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Guess that’s our cue." He said, still chuckling as he gave her a quick eskimo kiss, their noses brushing together.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she gently pushed him away.

"Goofball." She muttered affectionately, her cheeks still flushed.

Reluctantly pulling away, Matt released her from his embrace, giving her one last, lingering look before letting her turn her attention back to the oven. Y/N leaned down to peer through the glass, her hands resting on her knees as she checked the cupcakes.

Matt watched her from behind, unable to resist the fond smile that tugged at his lips. The sight of her brows knitting together as she inspected their work made his heart swell.

"They look perfect." Y/N announced, turning back to him with a triumphant smile.

"All thanks to you." Matt came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I love baking with you." He whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

"Even if you’re terrible at it?" She teased.

"Especially because I’m terrible at it." He replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Gives you more reasons to stick around."

'And we can run away to the walls inside your house'

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

[demonic0angel]

OWO, you take prompts? How about this?

Danny was born a premature and with a heart defect. The Fenton's try to make a clone so they can get his heart transplanted without fear of organ rejection. But they end up making a full on baby and don't have it in them to kill another version of their son just to save their original boy. Danny ends up pulling through and the clone gets filed as a twin that no one noticed was still in when Maddie was in the hospital. So Maddie "had him at home" and went back so he could be medically examined. The new parents feel ashamed of what they initially were going to do and give the child to a cousin who couldn't conceive.

Tim Drake doesn't know he's adopted until a DNA test reveals that the 'Meta' running around Gotham is his 'twin brother'. And the babies he has, that he does babysitting gigs with, are his twin's 'children'.

(I don’t exactly take prompts, but I don’t mind if you send them. Also, I’m going to assume that the twin’s “children” are Dan and Dani, since that seems to be what people prefer.)

“… are you serious?” Tim asked through the phone.

“Yep,” Dick said, sounding like a mixture of amusement and concern, “How do you feel about it?”

Tim thought about it and then responded, “I guess it makes sense why my parents neglected me so much, since I’m adopted.”

“Awww, baby bird…”

“I’m fine, Dick,” Tim said. He picked Dante and set him on a baby chair. Said child stared at him with electric blue eyes, scowling with his pudgy cheeks as if he wanted to tear Tim apart with his nonexistent teeth. Tim rubbed his chubby cheek with a finger before moving away, still holding the phone to his ear as he picked up the other baby.

Dick continued, “Yeah… also, Bruce says that he’s sorry that he checked your blood without telling you.”

Tim snorted, “No, he didn’t.” Bruce was never sorry for that kind of stuff.

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I lied. Sorry. But he did look guilty! He didn’t want to tell you at first, but Jason convinced him so I’m the one telling you right now.”

Tim hummed, picking up little Ella, who was stubbornly holding onto a small cardboard box. Tim let her hold it and placed her onto the baby chair next to her brother, who immediately reached out for her. It was kinda funny seeing how clingy he was compared to his sister.

“We have more information too. We tracked down the new meta and we’ve been looking into his routes. We suspect that he’s living around here, in Bristol,” Dick said. “We think he’s living in an apartment, at XXX on XXXX street, possibly with a roommate named Jazz.”

Tim paused, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was in the same building, babysitting a bunch of kids on the same street, who also lived with another woman named Jazz. “Uhh. What else?”

“We think he lives on the third floor and possibly also works at a pizza delivery place? Or maybe a fast food restaurant? He’s been flying back and forth between two places besides the apartment.”

Tim began to sweat. “Uh… anything else?”

“There’s a high chance that his name is Danny Nightingale, and Jasmine Nightingale is in on the fact that he’s a meta.”

Fuck.

Tim looked at his niece and nephew with a new light, eyes wide. Ella beamed at him, giggling while Dante just glared.

Welp. At least Bruce would be happy to be a grandfather now. Even if it was to Tim’s secret meta twin brother.

[bonniepop]

atsumu opens the door to his house and is greeted by silence and a dark first floor. it’s to be expected; it’s nearly midnight, and he got stuck in traffic on the way back home from practice.

toeing off his shoes by the door, he leaves the keys to his car on the console table and uses the flashlight on his phone to help him navigate in the darkness. he climbs up the stars and hears muffled voices. it sounds like a movie.

the upstairs hallway is fairly lit, so he uses the sound to guide him to his child’s door. gently, he turns on the knob and pokes his head in. there’s a laptop playing a children’s movie on the desk, a flurry of toys on the floor, and a mother and child snuggled on the bed.

“hey, sweetheart,” he greets softly, grinning when he catches his daughter’s attention and she perks up.

“mommy,” she says, tiny hands tapping her dozing mother’s cheek. “mommy, daddy’s here.”

—

“mommy,” your daughter calls again, and your eyes blearily blink open. “mommy, it’s daddy!”

you twist your head and smile sleepily when your gaze lands on your husband. “hi, tsum.”

“hi, baby,” he greets, slipping inside and dropping his gym bag by the door. he moves to sit but his daughter stops him.

“no, daddy,” she whines. “you can’t go on my bed. you’re dirty!”

you snort while he blinks, and you push yourself up to sit.

it takes him a while to process what she just said. “i’m not dirty!” atsumu protests, placing his hands on his hips. “i’m clean! i changed clothes before i left the gym—”

“no,” she says, wrinkling her nose and pointing to his bag by the door. “you have to shower.”

“these clothes are clean—”

“nooooo,” she whines, slapping the cushion in frustration. “shower!”

“but mommy’s on the bed and i wanna be on the bed, too—”

“but mommy’s clean!” she whines again. “shower, daddy!” she extends the r of the word shower, baring her teeth in a scowl.

his jaw drops, then he turns to gape at you. “you’re not gonna say anything?”

you tamp down your smile and shrug. “it’s easier if you just do as she says. i had to shower before i even entered her room.”

“where did you learn this?” he asks, turning back to his daughter with disbelief. “i bet it was from your grandma, ‘cause your mom ain’t as much of a neat fre—”

“okay!” you interrupt him, climbing off the bed before your daughter could expand her vocabulary. “i’ll make sure your dad bathes, sweetheart.” you lean down to kiss your daughter’s forehead.

“thank you, mommy,” she says sweetly, kissing your cheek.

“what about my kiss?” atsumu asks, shouldering his bag and frowning.

“shower first,” his daughter says resolutely.

“jesus,” atsumu mumbles under his breath, low enough that his daughter can’t make it out, and you herd him to step outside the door.

you laugh when it clicks shut behind you. “it’s your bag, you know,” you mention, walking alongside him. “whenever she sees it, that’s when she thinks you’re dirty.”

“why? i spray this thing all the time with the little—” he makes a spritzing-like motion with his fingers. “what’s it called? the thing you gave me.”

“deodorizer?”

“yeah!”

“smelling deodorized and smelling clean are different,” you point out, then point to your bedroom. “go. shower.”

he sighs in dismay, but true to himself, he's not down for long. he wiggles his eyebrows in your direction. “care to join me?”

you roll your eyes. “nice try. i’m gonna put your gross clothes in the laundry room.”

he brightens. “i can do that! after we shower together, that is.”

you sour. “and let the stink simmer? no way.” you reach out your hand. “give it to me; i’ll do it.”

he pouts a little. “but it’ll be more fun if we shower together!”

“no.”

“come on! for me?”

it's almost emasculating, seeing him beg like this, but your gaze is stone cold serious. “no.”

he grumbles in defeat and hands his bag over. “fine. but just so you know, i’m not a happy husband right now and you’ll need to make up for the lack of love and commitment at some point.”

“i give you plenty,” you say with finality before turning on your heel and heading down the stairs.

“you promised for better or for worse and i am going to collect!” he calls after you.

"shower first, then we'll discuss my marital commitments."

[iamgonnagetyouback]

regulus black x reader where christmas at the potters brings back two brothers together

Regulus Black rarely trembled. He was a man of precision, poise, and well-practiced restraint. Yet here he stood, fidgeting with the cuffs of his tailored coat, staring at the warmly lit Potter residence as though it were a dragon’s lair. His free hand clasped yours tightly, clammy despite the biting chill of December air.

“Amour,” he began nervously, his tone a mixture of urgency and dread, “are you certain the invitation was for me too? Perhaps Lily and James only meant you, and it would be terribly awkward if—”

“Reg.” You squeezed his hand, cutting through his spiral. “You’re overthinking this. They invited both of us. Lily wrote your name herself, remember? In that beautiful gold ink? You’re family.”

His jaw tensed, his grey eyes darting to the door and then back to you. “Family,” he echoed softly, the word heavy with doubt and hope intertwined. “It’s been years. Sirius—he’s—what if—”

“What if he’s been waiting for this moment?” you interrupted gently, reaching up to cup his face. His eyes softened, the worry in them breaking your heart. “You’re here because they want you here. And so do I. Sirius will come around, love. And if he doesn’t, you’ll have me to hex him. Alright?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, though his fingers still fidgeted. He leaned into your touch for a moment, taking a deep breath before he muttered, “I still think this might be a mistake.”

“It’s not,” you assured him, squeezing his hand again as you turned to knock on the door. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, his voice stopped you.

“Amour, wait,” he said quickly. “Are you absolutely certain? What if—”

You silenced him with a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. “Regulus Arcturus Black, if you ask me one more time, I’ll drag you inside myself.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he whispered, though his grip on your hand tightened as the door swung open.

Lily stood there, her radiant smile lighting up the wintry evening. “You’re here!” she exclaimed warmly, pulling you into a hug before turning to Regulus. Her arms wrapped around him without hesitation, her genuine affection clear. “Regulus, welcome.”

He stiffened at first, his posture rigid and uncertain. But then, slowly, he returned the hug, a quiet “Thank you” escaping him. You could see the way his shoulders began to relax, the faintest sheen of tears in his eyes as he pulled back.

“Come in, come in,” Lily urged, her excitement genuine as she ushered you both inside.

James appeared next, his grin as boyish as ever. “Look who decided to join the fun!” he teased, clapping Regulus on the shoulder. “About time, mate.”

“James,” Regulus greeted stiffly, his voice carefully polite but uncertain. He glanced at you, and you smiled encouragingly. James didn’t seem fazed by Reg’s formality, stepping aside with a welcoming gesture.

Before anyone could say more, a small figure darted out from behind James, a mop of black hair bouncing as the toddler jumped forward with a loud “BAH!” aimed directly at Regulus.

Regulus froze, staring down at the child with wide eyes. Harry, oblivious to the tension, pouted, his tiny face scrunching in disappointment. “He’s not scared!” he whined, looking up at James for confirmation.

“Oh no,” Regulus said suddenly, his voice low and serious. He stepped back dramatically, clutching his chest as though struck. “You’ve frightened me terribly!” His grey eyes widened in mock terror, and his hand shot to yours for support.

Harry’s pout disappeared instantly, replaced by an elated giggle. “I scared him!” he cried, jumping up and down with glee. “Mum, I scared him!”

“You sure did, darling!” Lily laughed, beaming at her son.

James ruffled Harry’s hair with exaggerated pride. “Great job, young man. Now, go on, bring your uncle and aunt inside.”

Regulus froze at the word, his gaze snapping to James. He seemed to falter for a moment, swallowing hard as emotion flickered across his face. Then, a tiny tug on his coat brought him back.

“Come on, Uncle!” Harry demanded with a toothy grin, his little hands pulling insistently.

Regulus stared down at him, his breath catching. Slowly, hesitantly, a small, soft smile crept onto his lips. He bent down and lifted Harry into his arms, the toddler laughing as he looped his arms around Reg’s neck.

You watched, your chest tightening with emotion as tears pricked your eyes. The sight of Regulus, holding Harry so tenderly despite his nerves, was enough to overwhelm you. He turned to you, his smile shy but genuine, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss both his cheek and Harry’s.

“See?” you whispered against his ear. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Regulus didn’t reply, but the tear that slipped down his cheek as he carried Harry inside said everything.

The warmth of the Potter home enveloped you as you wandered into the kitchen, leaving Regulus in the living room with Harry still babbling excitedly in his arms. The sound of laughter and soft music filled the air, and the smell of something sweet baking teased your senses. You stepped inside, only to pause at the sight before you.

Peter Pettigrew and Mary Macdonald stood by the counter, hands brushing as they decorated a tray of cookies. Peter was a blushing mess, his usually pale cheeks bright pink as Mary whispered something that had him grinning like a schoolboy.

You cleared your throat loudly, hiding a smirk as they jumped apart, the spatula Mary had been holding clattering onto the counter. Peter looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Mary’s blush matched the rosy frosting she was piping.

“Am I interrupting something?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe.

“Bun!” Peter exclaimed, his voice a bit too high-pitched as he tried to regain his composure. “You’re here! We were just… uh, baking! Cookies!”

Mary rolled her eyes fondly but recovered quicker, smiling warmly at you. “Welcome, sweetie. It’s so good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too,” you replied with a chuckle. “And no need to explain. You two are adorable, by the way.”

Peter fumbled with the tray of cookies, muttering something under his breath as Mary handed you a warm one to taste. “Here, try these,” Peter said eagerly, watching your expression with nervous anticipation.

You bit into the cookie and hummed appreciatively. “Delicious. Seriously, you two make a great team in the kitchen. And overall.”

Peter blushed, but before he could say anything, Regulus stepped into the room. His presence seemed to shift the energy, quieting Peter’s usual bumbling nature.

“Regulus,” Mary greeted him brightly, her grin widening as you gave her a nod. She quickly plated a few cookies and handed them to him. “Here, try one. We’ve been working on these for ages.”

Regulus took the plate with a small, reluctant smile, glancing briefly at you as if for guidance. He picked up a cookie and took a careful bite, pausing as the flavors settled. Then, to everyone’s surprise, his lips curved into the faintest smile.

“They’re wonderful, Mary,” he said softly, nodding in approval.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “And?”

Regulus hesitated, his gaze flickering to Peter, who was looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “...And Peter,” he added with a slight smirk.

Mary and Peter both grinned, looking utterly pleased with themselves. “Thanks, Regulus,” they said in unison, earning a chuckle from you.

The lighthearted moment was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. You turned to see Remus stepping in, his tall frame illuminated by the kitchen lights. He smiled warmly, his gaze soft as it landed on you.

“Dove,” he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. “You look lovely as ever.” Then, turning to Regulus, he nodded. “Glad you made it, Regulus. Sirius will be joining in a minute.”

Regulus stiffened at those words, his hand instinctively seeking yours as his usual calm façade faltered. After exchanging pleasantries with Remus, he pulled you aside, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper.

“Did you hear him?” Regulus asked, his panic barely contained. “‘Sirius will be joining in a minute.’ That’s code for ‘he’s furious I’m here.’ I knew this was a mistake. Oh, Merlin, I should leave. I’ll just make an excuse—would they believe me if I said Barty accidentally set Evan on fire?”

You tried not to laugh, gently placing your hands on his shoulders. “Reg, no one’s furious you’re here. Sirius might be dramatic, but he doesn’t hate you. And yes, they would believe that excuse, love. But just stay with me, okay? You’re doing fine.”

Regulus opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of a door opening again silenced him. Both of you turned as Sirius stepped into the room, his grey eyes instantly locking onto you.

“Doll,” Sirius greeted with a grin, pulling you into a quick hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you replied, giving him a warm smile.

Then Sirius’s gaze shifted to Regulus. His expression softened slightly, though his tone held a quiet intensity as he spoke. “Can I talk to you alone, Regulus?”

Regulus tensed beside you, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. His wide eyes darted to you in panic, but you just smiled reassuringly and leaned in to whisper, “You’ve got this.”

You blew him a quick kiss before stepping away, leaving him and Sirius alone in the kitchen. As you walked out, you caught Sirius glancing at you, his face unreadable, before turning back to his brother.

Sirius leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he studied his brother with a carefully neutral expression. Regulus, for his part, was stiff as ever, his fingers twitching slightly as he tried to suppress his nerves.

“So…” Sirius began, dragging the word out. “You’re here.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I am. And you’re here.”

Sirius’s lips twitched upward in a small, begrudging smile. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

Regulus shifted on his feet. “You too.”

An awkward silence settled between them, the kind that years of estrangement couldn’t quite fill. Sirius scratched the back of his neck, clearly searching for the right words. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I actually have something for you,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Regulus blinked, startled. “You… do?”

Sirius nodded, his usual bravado muted as he turned and disappeared into the hallway. Regulus stood frozen, glancing back at the kitchen door as if considering fleeing, but before he could, Sirius returned. In his hands was a small package, wrapped haphazardly in parchment and tied with a crooked ribbon.

“Here,” Sirius said, shoving it toward him. “It’s, uh, not much.”

Regulus stared at the package, his brow furrowing. “I wasn’t aware there was going to be gift exchanging.”

“There’s not,” Sirius replied quickly, waving him off. “Just take it, alright?”

Regulus hesitated, then reached out and accepted the gift with the same care one might use to handle a priceless artifact. He carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper, revealing a neatly folded sweater inside. The soft fabric was midnight blue, and embroidered on the chest was a constellation—the Regulus star, shining bright—and a black dog stitched beside it, looking up toward the stars.

For a moment, Regulus just stared at it, his fingers brushing over the stitching. His throat tightened, and when he finally looked up, his eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

“I…” he began, but his voice failed him.

Sirius, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, began rambling. “I, uh, had some help from Remus, of course. I’m rubbish with sewing—nearly stabbed myself a dozen times. And the constellation—Remus said it should be accurate, so we looked it up in one of his star charts, and—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Regulus surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Sirius. A quiet sob escaped him as he buried his face against Sirius’s shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding.

Sirius froze for a moment before exhaling shakily. A small smile tugged at his lips as he returned the embrace, his own tears slipping free as he clung to his younger brother.

They stayed like that for a long moment, the tension between them melting away in the quiet of the kitchen.

When Regulus finally pulled back, his face was tear-streaked but calmer. Sirius gave him a lopsided grin and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m pretty sure dinner’s ready. And you know how James gets when people are late to the table.”

Regulus nodded, wiping his face as he smiled faintly. “Alright.”

Together, they stepped into the kitchen, their bond mended in a way neither had expected when the evening began. Everyone glanced up as they entered, noticing the tear tracks on both their faces, but no one said a word. Instead, they simply smiled and made room for the two brothers to join the gathering.

Regulus slid into the seat beside you, and Sirius took his place next to Remus. You gave Regulus a soft, knowing smile, gently squeezing his hand under the table. He squeezed back, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

The room soon filled with laughter as Harry began reenacting his earlier “scare” on an unsuspecting Remus, who pretended to faint dramatically. James and Lily chuckled, Mary and Peter exchanged amused glances, and Sirius leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around Remus as he laughed at Harry’s antics.

As you looked around the table, your hand still intertwined with Regulus’s, you couldn’t help but think that this was what Christmas was truly about—family, love, and finding light even after the darkest of times.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

AUTHOR'S NOTE I literally sobbed while writing this (╥ᆺ╥；)

[deathbxnny]

May I request some headcanons about Victor, selika, Vander and Vi about caring and being with a S/O with ADHD.

Please and thank you

Arcane characters with an s/o that has ADHD. | Viktor, Sevika, Vander and Vi

Thank you for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: No spoilers for season 2, season 1 Viktor, established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He was the first to notice and accommodate to your ADHD, mainly as he knew what it's like to live with something that makes life a little harder in general.

Viktor is very patient and gentle with you when you're having a hard time focusing on tasks or are procrastinating on projects. He understands it just fine and works with you to find strategies that make everything a bit easier. Whether it's studying with you or helping you out on research papers, you both spend a lot of time together, to say the least.

You two enjoy working on your own things in eachothers presence, as it helps you get over your lack of motivation and gives you a chance to talk his ear off freely. Thankfully, he's good at multitasking when it comes to you. Some may think your talking is excessive, but he finds it cute.

Whenever you're a bit more fidgety than usual, he'll hold your hand or give you a reassuring smile, yet doesn't stop your body from regulating itself naturally.

Viktor takes your diagnosis as a simple fact, nothing that defines or undermines your ability to be his s/o. If you need a little help, then he's very clearly okay with that.

》SEVIKA

She doesn't initially understand the concept of ADHD and doesn't care much about it either. Sure, she gets that it affects your day to day life, but she was going to help you out with anything either way even without the diagnosis. So, in other words, she's ready to learn and do as you please.

Your fidgety nature was something she definitely had to get used to, as she mistook it as fear or nervousness rather often. This typically meant that she'll ask you if you're alright a lot or if there was someone bothering you. Over time, she learns to look past it and see it as a natural part of you. If you can't sit still, then she'll let you roam around whilst her eyes watch you closely.

Your endless ramblings and deep interests about the most nichest topics also needed some time for her, but what got her the most was your procrastination issues. She did get not want to do things at all, but she would still attempt to make work as fun as possible in her own way. She'll accompany you everywhere and take care of the heavy lifting.

When she said that she was loyal, she was definitely not kidding around. Your ADHD changes nothing about the way she views you, and so she doesn't make a big deal out of it either.

》VANDER

Probably the most patient and understanding of your ADHD and its symptoms by far. He sees them as a part of you in a good way and simply accepts them as they are.

Whenever you procrastinate on chores or work, he'll try and make it more enjoyable by either helping out or promising you a nice treat after. If it's really bad, though, he'll just do things himself to not stress you out about them too much.

He's the same with your lack of focus, although he sometimes does get concerned about you zoning out when things get serious. Vander will still find his own innovative ideas on making you focus when he needs you to.

He loves listening to you talk to him about the most random things possible, mainly as it shows him that you're comfortable enough with the care he gives you. He also just enjoys weighing in with his own opinions about the many various topics you bring forth at rapid speed.

Either way, he skillfully navigates your diagnosis with ease and doesn't ever let you feel like you're burdening him with it.

》VI

Well, she certainly may have outlandish ideas at times when it comes to working with your ADHD, but she definitely at least has the spirit for it!

Your natural fidgeting and inability to stay still gets interpreted in you just needing to power yourself out. This makes you often find yourself in front of a punching bag with an excited Vi telling you to go ahead and let it alllll out. Whether it works or not is up to you, but you appreciate the effort even after you had explain it wasn't that easy.

Vi will make it her mission to help you out on projects or with work whenever the procrastination gets too bad. She'll also help you out with simpler tasks when she can but will otherwise try to make things fun, at least.

You two enjoy rambling away with each other, and it is her favorite thing. You're both bad at focusing on one topic at a time, so your talks can go on for hours, which she loves very much.

Your diagnosis is just a part of you that she very much loves, even when it gets difficult at times. She never wants you to feel left out or liked less because of it and does her best to never let you think that.

[fictionfixations]

this is my first time hearing of this so i dont know if theres like some other context related to this im missing (or if this message just happened out of the blue) but i dont really wanna know either way.

^^^ but all points in this are valid (the reblogged post i mean)

i would like to at least hold out hope that nothing bad happened until it is confirmed (do not ask them what happened, im sure its stressful as it is) but that is not to say that i invalidate the people who spoke up because im sure they have their reasons too but we do not know what happened and we cannot know what (again do not ask what, we are not entitled to that information)

i want to believe in both sides. i don't want to end up being the kind of person who doesn't believe in a victim or is against a person who didn't actually do anything wrong, so im going to be patient and if nothing ever gets said about it thats fine too

do not speculate. what comes out of it could be aiming pitchforks at someone who didn't do what you think they did, or bringing out someone's trauma over something all over again because you want to know or you think oh maybe this could be why so and so happened

this is my own opinion, but id say to withhold any judgment and thought you might have on this until we get a confirmation. this is not to say that you can do whatever you want with this information after, because that is not true at all.

feeling uncomfortable regarding it is valid, im not saying you cant have your own opinions over it, id just prefer it if people could treat this sensitively, and with respect for the other members to not try to find out more then what has been shared, nor overly target people over something you do not have confirmation over

im sorry as ive been repeating points a lot, but ive seen people acting really disrespectfully to all the people involved in something similar to this because they want to know, but they do it with zero regard for the person on the other side of the screen

(this is more referring to people asking those who were friends to that person about it but it was a really bad situation overall, and they were attacking them when they didn't get a response out fast enough without considering that they'd just learned that someone they cared about was a terrible person and needed time to process that. now in this case its not fully confirmed but i really dont want to see that happen again.)

^ updating my response above, as there is a doc with information about what happened which i noticed in one of the comments on the original post. i just wasnt sure if something really bad happened considering the vague statement in the twitter post but considering its been spoken out now of what happened i can safely conclude that hes probably not innocent (understatement). (again, please do not hound the victims nor the hermits on information about this)

i just didnt wanna assume anything. this isnt to say that i didnt trust in what evidence they saw that made them conclude that the accusations were credible, it was just worded in a way that sounded very vague, and as a person who would like to see the goodness in everyone i tend to stay in denial about these kinds of things because i want to believe that they are not that kind of person, at the very least until its either admitted by the guilty party, or theres a credible statement from the victim

also it might feel like im understating things with how i describe them, thats my bad. i usually describe things in swear words but considering hermitcraft has a mainly young audience im trying not to and it also feels a little inappropriate over a serious topic. but it means i default to referring to something as 'bad' or 'not so good' which can come off as like im trying to make it seem not as bad as it actually is which isn't true at all. im just trying to be really careful about how i word things or what i say considering this is a serious topic but it means im not sure how to describe it so i end up going with what i default to outside of swears.

um. also please dont go asking for proof from the people affected nor the hermits cause i really dont think its appropriate and could lead to triggering them further. its also very personal.

i emphasize my point as a person who has also gone through bad things, and trying to look back through those old messages were really triggering and it was just not a good time. i imagine it was rough enough to get screenshots of what they did get so please leave it alone. they went through the trouble of sharing it in public, you are not entitled to more

and i get it might be rough to trust CCs after having your trust broken with one being revealed to be a bad person but PLEASE do not accuse other CCs of the same behavior. they are just as shaken as you that someone they thought they knew could be like that. please leave them alone, thank you.

PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND:

we, as fans, do not have a right to private information. anything shared with us on this is a privilege. please do not abuse it. the cc's could shut down and never talk about it if we overwhelm them.

also, please keep in mind that ONE HERMIT and THE ENTIRETY OF HERMITCRAFT are NOT THE SAME THING. the entire fandom is not 'ruined' or 'completely unsafe' because of the actions of one person.

PLEASE DO NOT ASSUME THAT THE OTHER HERMITS KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT WHATEVER'S GOING ON WITH ISKALL. this is not some big conspiracy, it's the consequences of one person's actions. they weren't hiding this from us, that's not how hermitcraft works, they truly didn't know. they probably knew as much as us about this, so making it an 'us against them' situation is immature and shortsighted.

ALSO, I AM BEGGING EVERYONE TO PLEASE NOT SENSATIONALIZE THIS. PLEASE DO NOT TURN HATING ISKALL INTO A MEME OR A JOKE.

mcyt'ers being revealed to be less-than-great people is not a rare thing, sadly, but i've seen it turned into a joke/meme/trend in other fandoms. this both minimalizes the actual people's/victims' struggles, makes the entire situation feel less serious than it is, especially to outsiders looking in, and makes everyone in the fandom look immature, petty, unable to take anything seriously, and genuinely harmful.

this server, fandom, and community are not dying, it is not ruined forever, this is one (major, i'm not trying to minimalize it) issue that we're currently dealing with. it will be okay. we will move on. this is not the beginning of the end. please calm down. i love this fandom, god bless all of you. <3

edit: doc has said on stream that we will likely get more information as time passes. like i said, this is a PRIVILEGE. we are not OWED information. please be grateful for what we're given, and POLITELY ask questions if you must. if a cc doesn't give you the answer you want, or doesn't answer at all, LEAVE THEM ALONE. THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO HARASS PEOPLE. the hermits are likely just as stressed out as us, if not probably more so, so please keep that in mind when contacting them.

don't freak out, we'll be okay, this is not the end of the world, nor is it the end of Hermitcraft. we will be okay.

second edit: please remember that (at least as far as we know) ISKALL AND STRESS WERE NOT KICKED OR BANNED. THEY LEFT OF THEIR OWN VOLITION.

ALSO!!! VERY IMPORTANT!!!

WE. DO. NOT. KNOW. EXACTLY. WHAT. HAPPENED.

PLEASE DO NOT ASSUME ANYTHING SIMPLY BASED OFF OF OTHER MCYT'ERS PAST ACTIONS/SCANDALS. WE DO NOT KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. WE MIGHT NOT EVER KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED. WE NEED TO BE OKAY WITH THAT AND NOT DRAW OUR OWN CONCLUSIONS.

[littleprinces]

Day 23: Furry Kink

Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

Kinkvember Day 23

Sorry for late post

The pulsating beat of the club throbbed through my veins as I scanned the crowded dance floor. I spotted Yunjin, her ebony hair shimmering under the strobe lights, her bunny ears headband playfully perched on her head. She was swaying to the music, her smile infectious, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. I made my way towards her, pushing through the crowd.

"Yunjin," I shouted over the music, leaning in to be heard.

She turned, her eyes widening with recognition. "Oppa! Hey, what are you doing here?"

I grinned, raising my voice. "Thought I'd check out the scene. You look amazing."

She blushed, a faint smile on her lips. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself." She sipped her drink, her eyes never leaving mine. "You want to get out of here? It's too loud to talk."

I nodded, taking her hand. "Let's go."

We found a quieter spot outside, sitting on a bench under the dim streetlight. Yunjin turned to me, her eyes serious. "So, what's been going on with you? Haven't seen you in a while."

I laughed, running a hand through my hair. "Just been busy with work. You?"

She shrugged, her eyes flicking to mine and then away. "Same old. Wish I had something more exciting to say."

I leaned in, my voice low. "What if I said I could make your night more exciting?"

Her eyes widened, a slow smile spreading across her face. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

I reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "With a little bit of adventure."

She raised an eyebrow, her voice playful. "Adventure, huh? And what makes you think I'm the adventurous type?"

I grinned, my thumb brushing against her cheek. "Because I know you. And I know you love a good challenge."

She leaned in, her voice a whisper. "And what's the challenge?"

I leaned in, my lips close to her ear. "A tailplug in your ass and bunny ears on your head."

She pulled back, her eyes wide with surprise. "You're kidding, right?"

I shook my head, my hand reaching for hers. "Not kidding. But only if you're up for it."

She bit her lip, her eyes flicking to mine. "And what if I am?"

I smiled, my hand tightening around hers. "Then we go back to my place and make it happen."

She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. "Alright, let's do it."

Back at my place, I led her to the bedroom. I could see the excitement and nervousness in her eyes. I sat her down on the bed, my hands on her shoulders. "You sure about this?"

She nodded, her breath hitching. "Yes. Let's do it."

I grinned, reaching for the tailplug. "Alright, let's make this happen."

I guided her to the bed, her hands trembling slightly as she lay down. I started slow, my fingers tracing the curve of her back, her waist, her hips. She squirmed under my touch, her breath coming in soft gasps.

"Eli," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against hers. "Yeah?"

"I'm nervous," she admitted, her eyes flicking to mine.

I smiled, my fingers tangling in her hair. "Don't be. I've got you."

I started with her neck, my lips and tongue exploring every inch of her skin. She moaned softly, her hands grasping at the sheets. I moved down to her breasts, my tongue circling her nipples, my teeth gently nipping at them. She arched her back, a soft "yes" escaping her lips.

I moved lower, my fingers slipping into her panties, her wetness a testament to her arousal. I slipped a finger inside her, her body tensing at the intrusion. I moved slowly, my thumb circling her clit, her moans growing louder with each passing moment.

"Eli," she gasped, her hips bucking against my hand.

I pulled back, my fingers coated in her wetness. I reached for the lube, my eyes never leaving hers. I coated the tailplug, my fingers slick with the cool liquid. I positioned myself between her legs, my eyes on hers. "Ready?"

She nodded, her breath hitching.

I started slow, my fingers circling her tight hole. She tensed, her body resisting the intrusion. I applied more pressure, my fingers slipping inside her, her body screaming in protest. I moved slowly, my fingers stretching her, her moans a mix of pleasure and pain.

I replaced my fingers with the tailplug, her body tensing at the intrusion. I pushed it in slowly, her body adjusting to the new sensation. I slipped it in further, her body relaxing as she got used to it. I slipped it in all the way, her body trembling with the new sensation.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against hers. "How does that feel?"

She moaned, her body squirming against the new sensation. "It feels...different."

I grinned, my fingers reaching for her clit. "Different good or different bad?"

She bit her lip, her body squirming under my touch. "Different good. God, Eli, that feels amazing."

I slipped a finger inside her, her body tensing at the new sensation. I moved slowly, my finger moving in and out of her, her moans growing louder with each passing moment. I added another finger, her body stretching to accommodate me. I moved faster, my fingers slipping in and out of her, her body squirming against me.

"Eli," she gasped, her body tensing. "I'm going to...I'm going to..."

"Come for me, Yunjin," I whispered, my fingers moving faster. "Come all over my hand."

She cried out, her body convulsing as she came, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm. I slipped my fingers out of her, my body moving up hers. I positioned myself at her entrance, my cock hard and ready.

"Eli," she gasped, her eyes wide. "Are you sure about this?"

I nodded, my cock slipping inside her. "We're in this together, Yunjin. Trust me."

I moved slowly, my cock slipping in and out of her, her body adjusting to the new sensation. I moved faster, her body squirming against mine, her moans growing louder with each passing moment. I slipped a hand between us, my fingers finding her clit, her body tensing at the new sensation.

"Eli," she gasped, her body squirming against mine. "Harder. Faster."

I obliged, my cock slipping in and out of her faster, her body convulsing with each thrust. I could feel her body tensing, her orgasm building. I slipped a finger inside her, her body clamping down on me.

"Eli," she gasped, her body convulsing. "I'm going to...I'm going to..."

"Come for me, Yunjin," I growled, my cock slipping in and out of her. "Come all over my cock."

She cried out, her body convulsing as she came, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm. I slipped out of her, my body moving up hers. I slipped my cock into her mouth, her lips wrapping around me. I groaned, her mouth warm and wet. I moved my hips, my cock slipping in and out of her mouth.

"Uuummm," she moaned, her hands grasping at my hips.

I could feel my orgasm building, my body tensing. "Yunjin," I groaned, my cock slipping in and out of her mouth. "I'm going to...I'm going to..."

She pulled back, her eyes on mine. "Come for me, Eli. Come all over my face."

I groaned, my body convulsing as I came, my cock slipping out of her mouth, my cum splattering her face. I slumped down beside her, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm.

She turned to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, when do we do this again?"

[mwuaferrari]

I REALLY WANT TO KISS YOU - LANDO NORRIS

The paddock was nearly empty. Only faint lights illuminated a few tents, and a handful of mechanics were packing up the last tools of the night. Just two races left, and the season would be over. Although the championship hadn’t gone Lando’s way, the atmosphere wasn’t melancholy—it felt nostalgic. A blend of exhaustion, pride, and the inevitable “what ifs.”

You leaned against a metal railing, watching as Lando, a few meters away, chatted distractedly with one of his engineers. He was smiling, but you could sense there was something deeper beneath the surface, something he was working through quietly. When he finished the conversation, his eyes searched for you in the shadows. The moment he spotted you, he walked over with a half-smile that sent your heart racing.

Lando stopped a few steps away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and studying you intently.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice light but tinged with nervousness.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone playful, that familiar teasing lilt he used to deflect anything serious.

“I wanted to check on you, to make sure you were okay,” you admitted, glancing at him sideways.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to. I’m fine, really.”

“I know,” you said, taking a breath as you carefully chose your words. “But… Lando, you did something incredible this year, you know that? Everyone expected big things from the others, but you—you surprised everyone. You fought until the very end, and that’s what matters.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge whether you really meant it. When he found no hesitation in your expression, he sighed softly and smiled—this time, with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Thank you. Really. I think I needed that.”

You looked at him, and despite his words, something in his demeanor made you want to comfort him. Without thinking too much, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him.

Lando stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then let out a small laugh as he hugged you back, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder.

“This helps more than words,” he murmured against your hair.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t move far. His gaze lingered on yours, and something in his eyes had shifted—something warm that made your cheeks heat up.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, letting out a nervous laugh.

Lando blinked, then leaned against the railing beside you, a genuine, low laugh escaping his lips.

“I was just thinking about something really stupid.”

“What?” you pressed, curiosity evident in your voice.

He looked at you, biting his bottom lip as if debating whether to say it. Finally, with a shrug and a soft chuckle, he confessed, “I was thinking that I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your eyes widened as your heart sped up, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“And that seems stupid to you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

“A little,” he admitted, “but it’s also true.”

The air between you seemed to grow heavier, charged with a new kind of energy. You stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just teasing.

“So, what’s stopping you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest.

Lando’s expression softened, his usual playful demeanor melting into something more serious as he leaned closer.

“Nothing, I guess,” he murmured.

And before you could say another word, his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, ensuring this was exactly what he wanted. When he felt you respond, his grip on your waist tightened slightly, the kiss deepening into something that felt like it had been building for a long time.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were slightly out of breath, wearing matching smiles that neither could suppress.

“Well,” he said, his voice soft and tinged with humor, “that felt a lot less stupid than I thought it would.”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he replied, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “But I’m also the guy who just kissed you, so I must be doing something right.”