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baeshijima · 5 months ago

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— stardust

the world is a vast place. in the grand scheme of things, humans are but a speck of dust; much like how you are sure you are nothing but a meagre speck of dust in the world he lives in, forever to be remained unseen. (if only you knew how you are the brightest star he'd ever laid his eyes upon.)

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.5k wc, royalty!au, contract marriage/marriage of convenience, fluff, smitten reca bc what would he be other than smitten, a little hint of bittersweet at the end if read between the lines aha...

A/N : ....i have a paper due monday. i havent started it. why do i do this to myself. (reca i love u can u not hear my cries and wails as fic after fic appears in my brain for u...)

Duke Reca of the northern territory; to many he is a well-accomplished noble, a young genius set for greater things, and the owner-slash-founder of the top theatre company. He is an idol — a role model to those who aspire to be more involved in the artistic side of the world.

To you, however, he is an absolute lunatic, the bane of your existence, and your contractual husband.

It's not like you had much choice. It was either: a) remain as a hollow puppet whose strings danced at your family's fingertips, or b) find some way to escape with outside power.

You, of course, chose the second option. Unfortunately, that somehow led to you meeting the young duke when out in the shopping district, trying to escape the suffocating presence of your family's knights accompanying you by running into a secluded alleyway, even if it was for but a momentary breather.

It was a whirlwind of a meeting... quite literally. Bodies flew; clothing tousled; breaths stolen. Well, at least for you it was like this. He, on the other hand, looked right as rain. (Lucky bastard.) You hadn't realised it was him at first, too absorbed in hasty apologies and the numbing bloom spreading across your backside like a wildfire (really, they ought to incorporate more padding in these flimsy clothes!), but when he uttered an apology of his own for not paying attention to his surroundings with an arm outstretched to help you stand, your mind all but blanked. What was someone of his status doing in a dingy alley? Didn't the newspapers report word of his self-confinement, having not stepped foot outside his manor in fervent preparation of his upcoming performance?

No, never mind all that; wasn't this a blatant opportunity being presented to you? An outside power that could help you escape the clutches of your family...

With gritted teeth, all sense of self-dignity was cast aside as you grasped his outstretched hand with both of your own, gazing into his widened eyes with your own narrowed ones.

"Your Grace, I know this is hardly the appropriate time nor place, but please... marry me!" Your words echoed within the enclosed space. Duke Reca blinked slowly down at you, and it was then you realised you never elaborated. "In... in a contractual marriage of convenience, of course."

"Oh?" he grinned, amusement and intrigue twinkling in his eyes. "And what is it you can offer me?"

"I..." Truthfully, there was nothing you could offer which would be beneficial to someone like him who had everything at the tips of his fingers. You were but a speck of dust in his world, merely floating and remaining unseen within his view. But even so, here you kneeled before him, his gaze wholly fixated on a speck of dust such as yourself. If nothing else, you at least had your desperation — a desperation to be your own person. "My lineage may be from that of a baron's, but I am confident I can be of use to you if you would permit it. So long as you accept my offer, I will do anything to aid you, whether that be through practical means or a performance you wish to see."

A beat of silence.

"Ha... haha... ahahaha!!"

And, as if things couldn't get any worse than a sore rear and disgruntled self, you were pulled out of your daze by a pair of gleaming carmine eyes, a maniacal grin, and his body, now kneeled just like you were, so very close to your own.

"That determination... how brilliantly you burn with such an expression!" The sheer glee which bled through his tone sent shivers down your spine, having never realised someone so esteemed had such a side to him. The duke breathed a breathy laugh and slightly backed up, his hands still holding your arms. "Alright, I look forward to seeing how brightly you will shine in your performance, my dear leading actor."

...Was it too late to back out and find an alternative solution?

Admittedly so, for the next thing you knew vows were declared and you were moved into the duke's residence. You could still remember your family's aghast expressions the moment you declared you were marrying Duke Reca and thus cutting ties with them. It was oddly freeing to see their contorted faces reveal their true nature.

Life as the duke's spouse was... something, to say the least. His servants and attendants almost seemed to have shed tears of joy at the revelation of their ever so lonely duke (their words, not yours) finally settling down and getting married, asking you questions such as how you both met, what drew you to their duke, who popped the question first, why you chose him of all people, so on so forth. It was... cosy. Something you admittedly weren't very accustomed to, but found yourself welcoming nonetheless.

One thing you never expected was for the duke to have a little pet of his own; a little toad dressed in a miniature beret and matching suit, at that. Assistant Director is what Reca had called her, and you think for someone so obsessed with the arts he ought to up his naming sense. She was also quite susceptible to compliments, something you discovered when commenting on the little toad's cute attire, with the duke's baffling translation of her bashfulness and her own compliment on your own looks. Apparently. You're not really sure, but you're inclined to believe it ever since she claimed a spot on your shoulder.

As the days-turned-weeks-turned-months bled into each other, you found yourself oddly lost at how well-adapted you have become of your new life and the duke's personality. From impromptu displays of affection both in and outside the manor to sporadic radio silence on his end when wholly consumed by his fervent passion for a project, you sometimes wonder just how you're still alive with the amount of heart attacks the man has given you.

But despite his... eccentricities, to put it lightly, there are times where you can't quite put a finger on certain expressions he would make when he thinks you're not looking. They're unlike his (once again, to put it very lightly) passionate eyes when rambling to you during mealtimes about an upcoming performance the troupe has; unlike the sheer mania he can exude when something truly sparks his inspiration; unlike the playfully smug grin he would give you when swooping down in dramatic flair to press a long kiss to the back of your palm; unlike the rare darkening of his expression that you cannot help but stiffen at when something or someone in the troupe doesn't quite match his expectations.

No. These ones are... soft. A kind of tenderness and unprecedented longing able to be identified if scrutinised close enough. It was evident in the ghost-like touches he would trail along your skin, as though afraid just a little more force would do irreparable damage. It was evident in the attention to even the most minute details, having everything from clothing to food to the decor suited to preferences you yourself never realised you had. It was evident in the way unadulterated fondness leaked through his tone when his unique terms of affection for you slipped through his lips when all was silent and you were supposed to be asleep.

"My dearest star..."

...Much like now, it would seem.

The bed dips by where your knees slightly bend, hidden under the beige covers. A familiar musky scent surrounds you not long after, and you find yourself involuntarily relaxing at the comfort it brings as your head further burrows into the pillow.

You want to stay awake, even if it's just for a second longer, to hear what he has to say to your less than conscious state. But, oh, his fingers threading through your hair and softly massaging your scalp and the gentle touch of his forehead against yours and the subtle comforting warmth that rolls off his body in waves does little to help you fight the sleep which easily takes over.

Oh, whatever! You'll just try and catch what he has to say next time.

Eventually your breathing evens out, only soft snores now heard within the large shared bedroom. Upon noticing this, Reca cannot stop the fond smile which lifts the corners of his lips, nor can he prevent the softening of his eyes as he continues to gaze at your sleeping form.

"My dearest [Name]," he whispers into the dead of night. Even now, several months later, he still cannot believe his luck to have run into you in that alleyway. It must have been fate which made him heed its call, urging him he would discover something sure to escape that terrible slump plaguing him for weeks on end.

Sure enough, it brought him to something irreplaceable; something he has been searching desperately for.

You.

And, with the tenderest of kisses pressed to your forehead that would put even the most sickening romantics to shame, he murmurs words of promise against your skin, an oath he swears to uphold no matter the obstacles which stand before him.

"In this life, I will ensure you have only the best of endings."

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

#mr reca x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #mr reca x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #PEOPLE CAN FIGHT ME ON DUKE OF THE NORTH RECA IDC IDC I WILL NOT BACK DOWN !!! NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT??? NEVER GIVE UP !!!#im sorry . royalty aus are my achilles heel... my roman empire...#also literally the first thought i had when his model was first leaked was 'HES THE DUKE OF THE NORTH !!! HE HAS THE HAIR AND SUIT !!!!'#his lc when it was leaked further solidified that idea 🧍‍♀️#anyway his cn voice <3333 literally have had it looped for the whole day i kid u not ;w;;;#it just... hit everything perfectly.... the itch is well-scratched..........

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nikibogwater · 7 months ago

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Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

#niki rambles #cinderella 2015

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darkmatilda · 18 days ago

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𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your toothbrush was in his bathroom, clothes in the wardrobe, and the sheets had long since grown accustomed to the scent of your skin. you were practically living together, but that day, when you're about to move in officially, one conversation with your boss, one ultimatum, and one decision change the purpose for which you're packing your boxes.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x bau!female reader, ugh mostly fluff with a bit of hurt and comfort, unspecified height difference mentioned

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.k

𝐚/𝐧: it wasn’t a request, but @penelopegarciaismygf kind of suggested it in a conversation—thank you, thank you, love, for the inspiration <3

The golden light seeped through the imperfectly covered window, making its pilgrimage across the entire width of the room straight to your bodies buried under the bedding and, more precisely, to your eyes.

You furrowed your brow and rubbed your still half-asleep eyes. The morning silence was fragile but steady—it seemed to rise and fall gently, adjusting to the rhythm of Spencer’s breathing as he lay on his side, facing you. Although the prospect of crawling out of bed, getting up, and going to work didn’t exactly fill you with enthusiasm or make you want to leap to the ceiling with energy, a small, lazy smile spread naturally across your lips.

Maybe it was because of the expression on his sleeping face—or rather half of it, since the other half was buried in the pillow. Maybe it was those unruly brown hair strands you wanted to smooth with your fingers, but you held back, knowing that waking him when he looked so peaceful and idyllic felt almost like committing a crime. Maybe it was simply his presence.

At that very moment, the sound of the alarm clock snapped you out of your trance and pulled Spencer from his sleep. His temples tensed for a second as his eyes started to open. You quickly leaned over his body to reach the source of the noise, silencing it before it could take over the room.

He opened his eyes, blinking slowly, as if shaking off the heavy grip of sleep that had just held him. Then, his still partly absent gaze focused on the figure hovering above him—on you.

You crawled onto him, pressing your weight down just enough to keep him from sitting up.

"I've got good news for you," you began, resting your forearm on his collarbones and propping your chin on it as you spoke.

Your voice was soft, husky—the first words you’d uttered that morning.

Spencer, just as you intended, remained on his back. His hand had somehow found its way to your hip, as if he were making sure you wouldn’t slip off. Looking at you through half-closed eyes, he gave you a gentle smile.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice edged with a bit of morning rasp that seemed to make the air between you vibrate ever so slightly.

For a moment, you stayed still, simply looking into his eyes, until you remembered that you both had work that day and couldn’t afford to be late. It didn’t matter how warm his body felt beneath you, wrapping around you like a blanket, or how the scent of the night you’d just spent together lingered softly on his skin.

“A good fairy visited you and is offering an extra five minutes of sleep,” you murmured. “While she makes coffee.”

His eyebrows arched slightly with intrigue.

“Is this fairy an altruist, or is there a catch?”

“Mhm. There is a catch. But it’s a pretty easy one,” you said. “Just one kiss. There could’ve been more, but you get a discount for those pretty eyes.”

You even closed your eyes again, waiting for him to fulfill your request. But Spencer remained still—physically, at least—though his sleepy face showed growing amusement.

“The fairy should know I have a girlfriend,” he replied with a slight shrug. “And she wouldn’t be too happy about me kissing someone else in our bed. Even if it is an incorporeal being.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the wide smile spreading across your face.

“The fairy already talked to her about it,” you snorted, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “And she thinks five extra minutes of sleep is an offer too good to pass up. So?”

Spencer let out a defeated sigh.

“Well then…”

You leaned in to kiss him, his head still resting on the pillow. Under the pressure of your lips, he sank even deeper into it, and his hand on your hip tightened its hold. His sleepy mind seemed to have forgotten the concept of moderation, wanting everything at once as he pulled you even closer. For a moment, he forgot to breathe, letting out a soft, involuntary whimper when you pulled away. It wasn’t easy, but someone had to make sure you both didn’t end up getting fired.

“Five minutes,” you reminded him before sliding off of him and then out of bed.

Well, you didn’t mention that you’d already wasted at least half of that time teasing each other.

He kept his head slightly raised, as if wanting to see you off with all the honor and dignity his sleepy state could muster, following you with his gaze until you reached the bedroom door. But as soon as your foot crossed the threshold, the rustle of the sheets announced his swift retreat back into them, fully intending to make the most of the time granted by the good fairy.

After a wake-up like that, a gentle smile lingered on your lips as you made your way to the bathroom. You’d left a toothbrush there for yourself a while ago, and not long after, a face wash had joined it. Before you knew it, your collection of toiletries at your boyfriend’s place had grown larger than the one at your own. The realization hit you one evening when you and the girls from the team were getting ready for a night out—you couldn’t find your favorite lipstick because, well, it was there. Same with your favorite perfume.

Most of your clothes.

You could say that your entire life’s belongings had slowly started to migrate.

It didn’t bother you—in fact, you were spending more and more time there anyway, and it was convenient to have everything within reach. But it did create a bit of a cycle. You spent another night at Spencer’s place because all your things were there, and all your things were there because you spent another night at Spencer’s place.

Soon enough, your own apartment started to feel a bit foreign. Almost like all those hotels you ended up in while working on cases. Sure, you could relax there, catch your breath after a long day, but it just wasn’t the same.

You headed to the kitchen to make the promised coffee. At that exact moment, Spencer appeared in the doorway as well. His eyes weren’t fully open yet, and his hair was a true mess—barely deserving to be called hair at all. He was trying to put his glasses on the wrong way, accidentally poking himself in the eye.

A snort escaped you.

"I seriously doubt even the strongest coffee could pull you out of this state," you remarked with a touch of amused sarcasm.

"It doesn't hurt to try," he groaned, this time managing to put his glasses on correctly and without risking an eye injury. That’s when his gaze fully landed on you. His lips parted slightly, as if he’d just remembered something. "The mugs are—"

"Here," you finished, opening the exact cabinet where they were stored. Spencer nodded, mouthing a silent right. "You don't have to remind me every time,"

"I know, sorry," he sighed, moving closer to you at the counter where you were making coffee and leaning against it sideways.

His hand, straightened at the elbow, rested on the edge, and the pads of his fingers tapped out a rhythm, as if lost in thought. A similar expression appeared on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him watching you in a thoughtful way.

Handing him the mug of freshly made coffee, you raised your eyebrows.

"Do I have toothpaste around my mouth or what?" you asked.

"What?" He jolted, completely caught off guard by your question. For a moment, he froze in place, then shook his head, realizing he'd zoned out. "No—I... Thanks for the coffee," he said, still looking somewhat dazed.

You tilted your head to the side with curiosity. Was it just regular sleepiness, or something more? Somehow, you had a gut feeling that something a bit more elusive was behind his behavior. You were probably becoming an expert at reading him.

"You're welcome," you replied.

"I really like when you're here in the morning."

"Because I make you coffee?"

He let out a chuckle, lowering his gaze to his mug. Standing so close, only two wisps of steam rising from your drinks separated you. You slowly set yours down on the counter, adopting a more focused, expectant stance.

"Not just because of that," he denied, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. For a moment, he held his mug in an uncertain grip, as if he'd forgotten what it was for. Only after a prolonged sigh did he also set it aside, briefly rubbing his forehead.

"Maybe I should put it better. It's not just that I like when you're here in the morning."

He paused, lifting his eyes to meet yours through the small difference in height between you. You saw how the softness in his dark, now fully awake eyes mingled with a hint of nervousness. He swallowed.

"I like when you're here. Just...here."

For some reason, an inexplicable stress washed over you too. For a moment, you felt surprised by it, only to realize a beat later what this feeling was called.

Excitement.

"Mhm," you hummed slowly. "I like it too. I mean, being here."

You thought you knew where this conversation was headed. You thought you wanted to help guide it there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to apply any pressure. If he didn’t ask, that was fine. But if he did...

"I've actually been thinking about this a lot lately," Spencer continued. "You know, we work together. I mean, I know you know we work together..." He blinked. "Okay, from the top. What I meant to say is that since we work together, it would actually be quite practical. We wouldn’t have to commute from two different places and...and our carbon footprint would be smaller..."

"Spencer—"

"...So it wouldn’t just be convenient, but also economical and, I think, enjoyable, because, as we both just agreed, we like being here, with each other..."

You opened your mouth, but he beat you to it again.

"But if not, that's totally fine. I’m not trying to pressure you, of course—the most important thing is whether you want to, whether we both want to, but I just... I just wanted you to know that I really would like that, and it’s just a matter of..."

"Spencer, are you trying to ask me to move in with you?"

You felt that if you didn’t put it into clear words yourself, he might never get there. He’d sooner deliver an entire lecture on CO2 emissions, lose his train of thought halfway through, and somehow end up talking about the JFK assassination—leaving both of you completely unsure what his original point was.

You couldn’t really criticize him for it, because you knew you’d listen, completely enchanted, for an embarrassingly long time—thinking about how adorable he was when he drifted off-topic without even realizing it.

Spencer paused for a moment, his lips slightly parted, as if he were in shock that it was possible to say it so simply. He nodded eagerly.

You, too, froze for a moment, because, well, it had just hit you. He had really meant to ask that from the beginning—it wasn’t just a figment of your imagination or some mistaken assumption. You drew in a deeper breath, nodding even more eagerly, because forming a full sentence had suddenly become quite difficult.

"Are you sure?" The question slipped out, and he seemed amused by it.

Okay, asking that after he even brought up ecological reasons was seriously unnecessary.

"Of course I am. I've been sure for a while, actually. I wanted to suggest it earlier... but I didn't know how you felt. I wasn't sure if you’d think it was too soon."

You took a sip of coffee, barely tasting it because you were so absorbed in the situation and his words. You, too, had spent a lot of time thinking about moving in together, not knowing how to bring up the topic. There was no universal rule for when a couple should start considering living together—no ancient script with a clear decree to do it after a set number of months. They say that living together is what truly tests a couple, showing you each other in the most intimate situations, in a place where the dress code requires taking off the mask. It's not uncommon for this stage to be the beginning of the end.

But you weren’t worried about that at all. You knew you’d make it work—this thought dominated your mind, and no doubts could withstand its strength. After all, you’d already been practically living together for a while; bringing a few more things from your apartment wouldn’t change anything—if anything, it would only solidify what already was.

The only stress you felt was the good kind.

"I’ll need to move everything over. Well, it’s not that much since most of it’s already here, but still, it’s a job for a day off, which means..." You were already planning everything and estimating how many boxes you’d need. The effect of excitement, probably.

But then your gaze fell on the clock, then on your boyfriend, still in his loose sleep t-shirt, and finally on your own clothes.

"Oh, shit, Spencer, we’re gonna be late!"

He straightened up, realizing the same thing. You pressed the mug to your lips, wanting to finish your coffee as quickly as possible and immediately get moving to get dressed. Despite the rush, you still tried to savor that morning.

Soon, good fairies, moving plans, and cardboard boxes would be replaced by something else—specifically bodies, victims, and unsubs.

"I'm exhausted," you groaned, leaning your shoulder and temple against the wall.

Concern shimmered in Spencer's eyes as he stood across from you.

"We'll be home soon," he reassured you gently. But then, his brow furrowed. "At least, I hope we'll be home soon. I have no idea what Hotch wants to talk to us about. Do you?"

You shook your head. The boss had told you both to wait for him outside his office, so there you were, leaning against the wall opposite the door with his name on it. You wondered what this could be about, but you were too tired to really care. The last three days had been spent working on an incredibly difficult case in another state, and all you wanted now was to crash into bed, snuggle up against your boyfriend, and erase everything from your memory.

Tense, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I swear, if he comes in here to tell us we're going on some secret mission to Florida to chase a cannibal who makes human soup, I won’t even cry," you declared. "I'll just jump out the window right away."

"You’d lose your job," Spencer pointed out. "And, well, you’d die."

"Interesting that you mentioned losing my job first. Boyfriend of the year, no doubt."

"Oh, don’t complain."

He snorted, but a tiny, tired smile lingered on his lips. Before moving closer to you, he glanced around. At work, you both rarely showed affection—it was something you had mutually agreed upon. Well, the FBI wasn’t exactly the place for that kind of thing.

However, the fact that you were completely alone in that hallway convinced him to break your private protocol. He leaned in just enough to press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll survive the talk with Hotch, and then it’s just…”

“Sleeping,” you finished with a dreamy sigh, resting your temple against his chest.

“Well, not exactly,” he replied. His hand found its way to your head, fingers gently tangled in your hair. “Tomorrow, we’re spending the whole day cleaning out your old place, remember?”

You let out a long groan.

“Why can’t everything just magically transport itself instead of needing actual human effort…”

“Because…” Before he could respond with some undoubtedly logical explanation, something alerted him, and he stepped back from you.

You glanced over your shoulder. Hotch was approaching, clad in a black suit and, much like you both, wearing a less-than-fresh expression.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said, his tone a bit robotic and devoid of any emotion, which amusingly contrasted with his words.

As if we had a choice, you thought as he led you into his office. He took a seat on the other side of the desk, and you quickly exchanged glances with Reid. You were both starting to feel a bit anxious. There was something in Hotch’s posture and stride that didn’t exactly suggest, say, a raise.

"Did something happen?" Spencer asked, his brow furrowing. "Is it about the case, or maybe the report...?"

"No, it has nothing to do with that," Hotch stated. You held back from exchanging another glance. He froze for a moment, his gaze fixed on both of you, but his expression gave nothing away. Then...he sighed.

"We're all tired, so I'll get straight to the point. This is about the two of you."

"I think we figured that much out," you remarked.

The sarcasm wasn’t meant to be rude—it slipped out as a natural response to the sudden wave of stress that washed over you. Hotch's gaze lingered on you for a moment, and that was all it took. You knew what this was about. You simply felt it.

"You know that relationships between agents aren’t exactly encouraged here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Spencer’s face grow taut. A prolonged silence fell over the room. Neither of you spoke, as if staying quiet might somehow halt the conversation altogether—freeze it in that moment and then let it melt away, disappearing like a cube of ice.

A lump formed in your throat, so massive it made swallowing difficult.

"But they aren't forbidden," you said.

It was true—there was no such rule. If there had been...well, you weren’t sure what would’ve happened to you two. Would you have hidden it? Or maybe you’d never have allowed anything to develop between you in the first place? It wasn’t the kind of question you pondered for fun before falling asleep, so you genuinely had no idea.

In theory, you hadn’t done anything wrong, yet in practice, you were sitting in Hotch’s office.

Something had to be up—something had to be wrong.

"Which doesn't change the fact that such relationships are not looked upon favorably," your boss continued. There was no reprimand in his voice—he wasn’t scolding you for being together. In fact, you doubted he cared about it at all. The fact that you were in a relationship hadn’t changed the way you did your job in any way.

"And it also doesn't change the fact that you've attracted particular attention," he paused for a longer moment, cleared his throat, still incredibly calm, though something was beginning to break through on his face as he stared at you both. Displeasure? "If it were up to me..."

"It actually is up to you," Spencer interrupted him, sitting as straight as a string in his seat, staring at him almost without blinking. There was a silent plea in that gaze. And perhaps the last echoes of denial that had long since quieted in you. That’s why you didn’t even flinch when Hotch shook his head. "Right? You could vouch for us...It didn’t start yesterday, you know our relationship has never once caused us to botch a case, or anything like that, not once has it negatively impacted an investigation—"

"Reid, I am fully aware of that. This is not my decision," he emphasized. His next words came out slightly quieter. "Just as it’s not my decision which one of you will leave the team. I know this will be difficult, but I’m leaving it up to you."

Spencer parted his lips, not knowing what to say, while you only took a loud breath and held it at the top. Suddenly, you didn’t feel sleepy anymore. You felt as if a soap bubble had burst right in front of your eyes, and a bit of the stinging liquid had gotten into them. But above all, everything colorful and wonderfully distorted by the bubble’s shifting surface had suddenly vanished.

You could have predicted this. The last few months had been going too well. Something had to burst.

You were the first to shake off the shock and rise from your seat. Your movements felt as if something was restraining you.

“We’ll let you know what we decide,” you said to your boss.

Spencer stared at you with a dazed expression. Not directly at your face, but at the calmness surrounding you. He shook his head, not blinking.

“No, wait, we don’t—” he trailed off, watching Hotch nod as you slowly moved toward the door. He stood up as well, but he didn’t look like he intended to follow you. “We can just figure this out; no one has to leave the team. Who decided this?”

“We should go,” you said quietly, before Hotch could answer him.

He met your gaze, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. From his perspective, it might have seemed strange—as if you were choosing to give up without so much as a discussion or an attempt to change anything. But perhaps you simply accepted things more easily, even the worst news, and recognized when a situation was truly lost.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Spencer finally decided to follow you, clearly unsettled by your strange behavior. Before you both left, you managed to exchange a fleeting glance with Hotch. Brief, yet filled with a certain understanding. Because he, of course, knew.

You didn’t have a heated argument on the way to your car—in fact, you didn’t say a word. He watched you closely, and it was clear that so many questions were pushing against his lips, a whole shapeless, chaotic mass of them. That state lingered even inside, the parking lot nearly deserted, and the night—just an ordinary night like any other day of the year—felt somehow withdrawn and distant, as if it was afraid to come between you.

"I don't understand you," Spencer finally said, his hands dropping onto his knees in a gesture filled with helplessness. He had been sitting completely turned toward the front windshield, his gaze fixed there, and only shifted it to you a second before speaking. "Instead of trying to handle this, you decided to walk out."

"Because it can't be handled," you said firmly, pressing your back hard against the seat. "We can argue and try, of course we can, but what's the point? This isn't some new school rule we don't like—it's our job, our team, and a whole lot of people above us. "Listen, I don't want it to look like I just gave up right away. I just looked at it realistically. If even Hotch couldn't do anything..." You waved your hand with a sigh, as if that gesture could finish the sentence.

Spencer took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He drew out the motion, gathering his thoughts.

"It's not fair that he left us with this decision," he said after a long moment. "Basically speaking, he just dumped it on us. And what are we supposed to do now? Choose which one of us leaves the team?"

You didn't feel like the question needed an answer. This was the situation you were in—that was the fact—and even Spencer seemed to be starting to understand it. You didn't have the strength to face the looming sense of injustice. It would be different if you had actually committed some violation or broken any rules. Then, at least, it would make sense. But as it stood, you were put in this position simply because word of your relationship had reached the wrong ears—ears that had decided to shut it down, seemingly out of nothing more than some arbitrary whim.

You looked at each other again, in a quiet stillness that made it harder for you to breathe. He gave a slight nod, swallowing. He didn’t look like someone making a decision. He looked simply lost. Like you, he was exhausted. Combined, the two of you sat side by side, incredibly fragile and weak, forced to make an overwhelming decision in this state.

You wanted to speak, but he beat you to it.

"I can do it," he declared. He cut the last syllable short, almost swallowing it, as if he was afraid his voice might break. He held eye contact with you only sporadically, but you didn’t need to look into his eyes—or even at him—to understand the obvious truth. That this job meant so much to him. "I have...I really have plenty of other offers. There’s bound to be something even better than the BAU. You should stay."

"Don’t be ridiculous."

"I'm not," he insisted. "I...I'm a good profiler, but I’ve never been great in the field. Not as good as you. You’re smart, you adapt well to new situations. If you stay, you’ll be far more valuable to them than I ever could be."

He looked into your eyes, and the fact that he was saying what he truly felt seemed almost too much to bear. You hid your face in your hands for a fleeting moment, then stretched out your hand, stopping him from saying anything more.

"We’re not discussing this," you declared.

It was, in a way, cruel—to have to look each other in the eye and say out loud which of you mattered more. But, thankfully, you didn’t have to do that. For one reason, a reason that echoed through all the looks Hotch had given you during your conversation. And whose beginning lay a few weeks back, in the offer you had received—but had kept entirely to yourself.

"Well, I’d rather not either, but we have to—"

"We don’t have to," you interrupted him, exhaling sharply. For a moment, you turned your face toward the side window before looking back at him to say the words you hadn’t yet had the chance to voice out loud. "I...Two weeks ago, I also received an offer. Something... something really serious, but I didn’t want to tell anyone because I knew you’d try to convince me to take it, and that would mean, um...it would mean..."

He gently reached for your arm.

"Maybe you should start from the beginning?"

Focusing on his touch, you nodded.

"It's Interpol. And well, not exactly a job—it's training. Undercover Operations and Covert Techniques, something...something that would give me a lot of opportunities."

"Is that something you’d want?"

"Spencer, it's in the Netherlands."

You saw it—the expression on his face shifted for a fraction of a second. He lowered his gaze to hide it, then returned to his original position, forcing a slight smile that didn’t quite land.

"But still. Is it something you want?"

Slowly, you reached for his hand on your shoulder, covering it with your own. You gently ran your fingers over the back of his hand, over his knuckles.

"I don’t want to leave you."

He leaned his face closer to yours, gently shaking his head from side to side.

"That’s not something that should hold you back. Did you want to take it?"

You shrugged, because, truly, it was a complicated matter for you.

"I was considering it, but I was a bit scared. I’ve gotten used to our team. Well, after today’s conversation with Hotch, I’d probably agree to it without hesitation—after all, one of us has to," you explained on an exhale. "But it’s a different continent, and lately...lately, everything has been so good. Between us. Not that it wasn’t before, but recently, I keep catching myself thinking that I love you, and it feels so natural and so honest and so good, and I was supposed to move in tomorrow, and I feel like I’m going to ruin everything by leaving right now..."

You fell silent, feeling the first tears welling up in your eyes under the weight of all the thoughts and doubts. You tried to push them away by looking up and blinking faster. When you looked at him again, his gaze followed your actions with a gentle sadness.

“You won’t ruin anything,” he promised quietly, his hand shifting in yours, trying to hold on more firmly. Slowly, you relaxed your fingers around his. “It was good, you’re right, but... we can’t stay in the same place forever. And it wouldn’t be wise to turn down such an offer just because of this.”

You stayed quiet for a moment. Once you’d started spilling your doubts and fears, it was hard to stop.

“It’s not just that,” you admitted hesitantly. “I know you know the statistics. What percentage of relationships fall apart when one person leaves?”

“It doesn’t matter because statistics don’t apply to us,” he stated firmly, straightening slightly. “Statistics say drowning in a bathtub is more likely than a plane crash, and I’m sure you’re more stressed about flying than taking a bath.”

"I don’t know what you’re getting at."

"Me neither."

You stared at him in silence for a moment before the corners of your mouth curled up. It was a somewhat bitter smile, a paradoxical expression of the weight on your chest and the fears swirling inside you. You took a deeper breath, the air trembling as it moved through your lungs, and leaned in to rest your forehead against his. A simple gesture, allowing yourself to close your eyes and, if only for a brief moment, shut off your mind.

"I love you too," he said after a long moment.

You opened your eyes, a bit surprised by the suddenness of his confession.

"Earlier, you said you catch yourself thinking that you love me. And well, if my memory serves me right...I never really told you that, at least not directly. But I do, and maybe, hm, maybe that's why I know that we'll be alright. No matter what happens."

A part of you wanted to ask out loud if he truly believed that. Another part didn’t need any more reassurance—constantly seeking it only fed your insecurities and fears. So you simply nodded gently, your foreheads still pressed together.

“We’ll be alright,” you echoed him.

Those words carried a certain calm with them. They weren’t a promise that could be kept or broken, setting you up for great disappointment. They were simply a fact, tossed into the air, and despite their lightness, they found their own path, eventually sticking to your heart.

“Can we go home now?”

He pulled his head back, leaving his hand in yours, and just nodded softly.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spence reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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drewswife · 23 days ago

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summary: drew brings you flowers during your miss dior photoshoot

pairings: actress!Reader x Actress!drew

warnings: fluff, paparazzi, kissing, drew being in love.

The studio hummed with the controlled chaos of a high-fashion shoot. Lights glared, reflectors shimmered, and the air crackled with the hushed energy of professionals at work. You, a rising star and the face of the new Miss Dior campaign, posed with practiced ease. The vintage-inspired gown, a cascade of soft pink and ivory, flowed around you like a dream. The photographer, a master of capturing fleeting moments, barked instructions in a clipped French accent, their eyes alight with creative fervor.

"Magnifique! Just a touch more… vulnerability," they commanded, their voice a melodic blend of French and English. You shifted your gaze, imagining a lost love, a poignant memory, and let the emotion seep into your expression. The camera clicked, freezing the moment in time.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, a gentle reminder of the world outside the studio. You ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. Another pose, another click, another carefully crafted emotion captured on film.

As the photographer called for a brief break, you finally retrieved your phone. A text from Drew: "Thinking of you. Can I bring you something?"

A soft smile touched your lips. Drew, your co-star, your confidant, and, if you were being honest with yourself, the man who held your heart captive. You typed back a quick "Surprise me," and slipped the phone back into your pocket.

The break was short, just enough for a quick touch-up and a sip of water. As you stepped back onto the set, the photographer’s assistant whispered, "You have a visitor."

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew it was Drew.

He stood at the edge of the set, a bouquet of bright yellow dandelions clutched in his hands. Not roses, not lilies, but dandelions – the simple, unassuming flowers that often went unnoticed, much like the way he’d quietly become an indispensable part of your life.

A ripple of amused laughter spread through the crew. Dandelions? For a Miss Dior photoshoot? It was hilariously out of place, yet somehow, perfectly Drew.

He walked towards you, his smile warm and genuine, a stark contrast to the carefully crafted emotions you’d been portraying for the camera.

"These reminded me of you," he said, handing you the bouquet. "Bright, cheerful, and a little bit… resilient."

You took the dandelions, their delicate heads brushing against your fingertips. "They're perfect," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

The photographer, initially amused, now seemed intrigued. "Perhaps we can incorporate them into the shoot," they suggested, their eyes sparkling with inspiration.

And so, the dandelions became a part of the Miss Dior narrative. They were woven into your hair, tucked into the folds of your gown, and scattered around the set, adding a touch of unexpected whimsy to the otherwise polished scene.

The shoot continued, but the atmosphere had shifted. It was no longer just about capturing an image; it was about capturing a moment, a connection, a feeling.

During a break, Drew pulled you aside, his eyes searching yours. "I know this is a big deal for you," he said, his voice low. "And I didn't want to disrupt anything. But I couldn't stay away."

"You didn't disrupt anything," you assured him, your fingers tracing the delicate petals of a dandelion. "You made it… real."

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

His lips met yours, a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss that held the promise of something more, something real.

The sound of a camera shutter broke the spell. You pulled back, your cheeks flushed, to see a swarm of paparazzi photographers snapping pictures from outside the studio windows.

"Oh, no," you groaned, the reality of the situation crashing down on you.

Drew, however, seemed unfazed. He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Let them," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

And so, the photos of you, the face of Miss Dior, kissing Drew, the man who brought you dandelions, were splashed across every magazine and website. The headlines screamed of a blossoming romance, a love story.

The reaction was mixed. Some fans were thrilled, others were heartbroken, and some were simply confused. But one thing was certain: the photos captured a moment of pure, unadulterated joy.

taglist:@chrislilcumslvt @chrepsi @drewstarkeyzwhore

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

#drew starkey #drew fluff #drew x reader #drew fanfiction #drew x you #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #drewswife #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey x singer!reader #drew startkey

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fyodoro · 10 months ago

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UNEXPECTED LOVERBOY

-> in which you overhear your calm and secretive boyfriend gushing over you like there’s no tomorrow (1.1k wc)

Cw) gn!reader, manga characters (no spoilers), sakura still malfunctions when it comes to romance topics

Calling Hayato Suo an enigma would be an understatement.

Not a soul knows what lies under that eye patch. He’s calm, collected, and composed at almost all times, but it was a task of its own to grasp why. It’s impossible to catch him eating anything other than teacakes, and he often replaces his meals with a hot cup of tea. He claims to be on a diet, but every diet needs some protein incorporated into it.

Everything there is to know about Suo can be followed up with the same question: “Why?” and “What?”

However, there was an exception to his mysterious nature: You.

Of course, you didn’t know that. Hell, even Suo failed to notice his quite obvious soft spot for you until now. But as Nirei’s eye glittered with joy as he scribbled new notes onto Suo’s page in his notebook, and Sakura’s pupils shrunk with his cheeks flaunting a new shade of red, everyone knew.

Hayato Suo’s in love.

“(Name’s) a beauty, really. They may be rough around the edges at times, but I’ve never met anyone with a soul like theirs,” he babbled uncharacteristically.

He brought his teacup to his lips with closed eyes, missing the baffled expressions on everyone’s faces. But the moment he opened them, he couldn’t help but quirk a brow. “What’s with the shocked faces?”

Umemiya coughed into his hand graciously. “We’re just a little surprised, that’s all,” he began, too immersed in the conversation to notice you entering Kotoha’s cafe. “It’s not often you ramble like this.”

“I didn’t know Suo could be so open about his feelings,” Nirei exclaimed with a smile. “You must reallyyyy like (Name), huh?” he questioned, holding his pen in one hand and notebook in another as if this were an interview.

Suo’s head tilted. “Of course I do, that’s why I’m dating them.”

“You’ve been rambling on and on about (Name) for almost 10 minutes, it’s gross,” Sakura grumbled with flushed cheeks.

“But we wanna hear more! Keep going,” Nirei added.

Everyone looked at Suo attentively, including you. Somehow, the group failed to hear the bell chime when you entered the cafe. You’re clueless as to what’s going on, but it didn’t take a genius to realize it had something to do with you considering the amount of times your name was thrown around.

“My, if you insist,” Suo chuckled. “But I fear I’ve already said it all, unless I forgot to mention how cute it is when their cheeks puff up when they’re annoyed?”

Sakura held his head in his hands in fear that it’d melt off with how hot his face felt. “No, you didn’t. But we get it! You love (Name)!” he shouted.

“They’re impossible not to love,” Suo commented with his usual calm smile.

“That’s just Sakura’s romance sensor going haywire,” Kiryu teased. “Don’t mind him.”

The split-haired boy sulked in his seat, trying to dismiss the heat he felt on his face. “You’re all so…”

His voice trailed off, catching a glimpse of your frame standing behind Suo.

“Su-“

“Trust me, if you were in my shoes you’d be doing the same thing. (Name’s) one of a kind, not to mention beautiful. I can’t imagine a life without them, honestly.” The brunette went on, unbeknownst of your looming presence behind him. “Anyone can fall in love if their heart is stolen.”

“Someone like Suo being so head over heels in love… it must feel like a fairytale for (Name),” Umemiya chimed.

“Oh trust me, it does.”

Everyone’s heads turned to face you, except Sakura, who had noticed you seconds prior.

“(Name)?!”

“I didn’t know I could be such a fun subject of conversation, Hayato.” you teased, hands resting on your boyfriend’s shoulders as you leaned down to his ear.

He gulped, hiding his flustered heart through his relaxed exterior.

“We were just talking about you!” Nirei said happily. “Is it true? That Suo never lets you hold doors open, and holds them open for you? Or that he gave you his umbrella when it was pouring rain because he’d rather get soaked than risk you getting sick?” Oh! What about-“

The boy in question sat in silence, allowing Nirei to ask his heart away to confirm that this wasn’t one of his absurd lies.

You nodded at the blonde. “Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Except he technically kept the umbrella- he just held it over me so my hands wouldn’t get cold,” you corrected, recalling the awful weather of that day.

“What a romantic~” Tsubaki swooned.

“I try my best,” Suo smiled shyly.

“Suo never talks about his life! This is the most he’s ever told us, (Name)! Does he talk to you about his personal life?” Nirei inquired politely, trying not to make you feel pressured into answering.

You thought for a moment. For one, you felt honored that Suo didn’t wanna keep your relationship a secret like the rest of his life. But the blonde’s question made you realize something yourself- you really didn’t know much about your boyfriend’s personal life.

“Well… what can I say? He’s a mystery to everyone, including me.” you replied unsurely, glancing at Suo from the corner of your eye.

“Interesting…”

Nirei wrote something down in his notebook, and you didn’t bother looking. Instead, you held eye contact with Suo. He didn’t have to speak for you to know what he was thinking.

He wasn’t hiding anything from you. He just didn’t like talking about his past, and you understood.

“My love, you know more about me than anyone else in this room,” he stood after finishing the contents of his teacup. “After all, you were the one who told me to take baby steps, correct?”

You vaguely recalled those words. It was weeks ago, but he felt guilty for not telling you or anyone else about his history. In response, you told him to take as long as he needed, and baby steps were always the first steps.

“I did,” you affirmed. Your voice was soft, but it didn’t hide your intentions of making his heart pound a little harder. “But I didn’t think I'd catch you gushing over me like you’ve lost your composure~”

Suo almost broke, and you laughed.

“Woah, is Suo blushing?”

“Who could blame the guy? It’s the most open he’s been with us,” Hiragi commented with truth.

Kotoha giggled from behind the counter. “Not to mention how close (Name) is to him right now, it might be too much for the poor boy to handle.”

The red in Suo’s cheeks slowly faded, and he let out a small sigh. “I’ll see you all later, we’re gonna get going now,” he waved.

The two of you walked out hand in hand, and everyone else was left either baffled, confused, or unphased. Unless it was Sakura, who was somehow all three.

Little did you know, Nirei left a small comment on the corner of Suo’s page in his notebook.

‘Quite the loverboy.’

#wind breaker #windbreaker #windbre #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #windbre x reader #windbreaker fluff #suo hayato #suou hayato #suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #suo fluff #dor writes

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zevrra · 3 months ago

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—𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [⋆｡°✩]

syn: just some random sfw & nsfw hc’s i have for jayce and viktor from arcane!!

includes: gn!reader, 18(+) only, fluff, established relationships, mention of kïnks, mention of drinking/being drunk

extra(s): may flesh these out a little more at some point but these are just little thoughts i’ve had in my head recently AAA (check out my other arcane stuff if you enjoy <3)

JAYCE

a heavy sleeper!! can sleep through all 11 alarms he’s set(they’re all set 5 mins apart) but when he does finally wake up he’s somehow a morning person…wakes up full of energy and ready to start the day

drinks black coffee straight up. no sugar or cream and hates the taste but says it helps him “wake up”

sleeps in just boxers

a light WEIGHT!! it takes a total of 2 drinks before he’s buzzed. his max is probably 6 drinks before he’s almost black out drunk

takes 2 hour long showers

hums! he hums aaaalllll the time just anywhere and everywhere! is always humming some kind of tune

when he’s nervous he bites his lips

runs so so hot! like is a natural heater and is constantly warm so he prefers winter over summer

also packs on some weight during the winter like a bear getting ready to hibernate (he hates it, you LOVE IT)

i feel like he LOVES to swim

book smart not so much street smarts

is terrified of insects, specifically wasps (isn’t allergic he just thinks they’re the spawn of satan)

secretly dislikes most sweets. he doesn’t mind them but he wouldn’t reach for sweets over salty snacks if they’re offered

oh he looooooves spicy food!

pet name king. loves calling you everything but your name. especially enjoys calling you “baby” or “babe”

physical touch is 100% his love language!! keeps his hands on your waist or your back he just enjoys touching so much

clingy

clean and perfect handwriting

he’s also either a really good cook or a really bad one i can’t decide jshsjsjd

when he has a bad day he droops like a little rain cloud but is so easy to cheer up

has two left feet and dances for shit (does it anyway because he enjoys it)

is a whole ray of sunshine; laughs with his whole chest, smiles just as bright as the sun, always looking on the bright side of things

[—NSFW BELOW]

obedient asf!!

literally loves being told what to do and how good he makes you feel

is the definition of service top

THRIVES OFF PRAISE!

stamina goes CRAZY, takes some pretty good build up before he comes

100% is a munch

he loves coming home, shutting off his brain from being at the lab for too long, and sitting between your thighs while he makes you feel good

begs for you to sit on his face

begs in general all day every day for it though

“pleaseee pretty… let’s just sneak away…”

says please so much it’s incorporated in his everyday vocabulary

loves kissing too

wild rutting thrusts, fast and rough reaching the deepest parts of you with ease

list of kinks i think he would have; public outings, bareback, begging (receiving or giving), marking (hickies), püssy/cöck worshipping, size kink, breeding, exhibitionism, face sitting/fucking, somno (w/consent!), and sqüirtïng

is huge and he knows it

thick at the base, keeps his girth until the very tip, where he’s a light brownish-pink. veiny and girthy; 7.5 inches

VIKTOR

rarely EVER sleeps (at most he sleeps for prob 5 ish hours every night) but when he does it’s never in an actual bed; says sleeping anywhere else is more comfortable than a bed

a light sleeper for sure, he def wakes up at every little noise and it drives him nuts

is NOT a morning person. he wakes up groggy and irritated before he morning coffee

always asks for “five more minutes” when he needs to get up

either he sleeps in the clothes he wore the day before or when he actually changes he wears a t-shirt and swaps between shorts or actual sleep pants

sometimes needs to be reminded to eat because he gets so focused on working in the lab he forgets to eat a lot

is actually a decent cook! can make basic and simple dishes but nothing extraordinary

drinks very rarely and when he does it takes him chugging liquor to get drunk

messy but pretty handwriting (only he can read it)

a blanket HOG! he has to be fully wrapped up in at least 2 blankets before he can get comfortable enough to sleep

always runs cold and favors summer over winter!

it just gives you a nice excuse to hold his hand out in public

will drop something on purpose just so he can bend over and struggle to pick it up then act like you’re being mean to him jshshfk

will hit you with his cane if you ask him a stupid question

has the BIGGEST SWEET TOOTH

secretly snuck candy whenever he could growing up so now he constantly has it on him

says it helps him focus if he has a little bit of sugar

is actually packed full with sarcasm and makes so many sarcastic comments throughout the day

doodles when he’s trying to figure out an equation

his pet names for you consist more of “my love” or “darling”

his love language is quality time and gift giving (while he HATES receiving gifts)

writes you notes and leaves them around everywhere for you to accidentally stumble across and see

if you manage to get him to accept a gift, he uses/takes it everywhere with him

[—NSFW BELOW]

is a power bottom!

loves it when you dress up for him

SENSITIVE KING

oh he’s so sensitive, especially around his thighs

comes so so so easily (but can go several times in a row)

like a little handjob and some kissing could have him weak in the palm of your hand

well placed, slow, and methodical thrusts. never misses and it always leaves you breathless.

after a really good night spent together is about the only time he’ll ever sleep comfortably in a bed (next to you of course)

would try ANYTHING once

is not shy when it comes to telling you when he wants to fuck

will grab you by the waist with his cane and pull you closer to him just to tell you he wants you sitting in his lap right now

gives me a lil bit of a brat vibes

“why don’t you try asking nicely darling.”

list of kïnks i think he would be into: dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation, choking, blindfolds, biting/marking, degradation/praise, püssy/cöck worshipping, oral, cüm play, roleplay (secretly loves professor/teacher stuff)

not as thick as jayce but he makes up for it with length, pale until the tip where he’s a pretty pink. slightly curved upwards, 6 inches

#zevrra zevrra!#zevrra’s hc’s #spicy zev!!#arcane #arcane hcs #arcane fluff #jayce arcane #arcane jayce #viktor arcane #jayce headcanons #viktor headcannons #jayvik #jayvik x reader #gn!reader #jayce x gn!reader #viktor x gn!reader #my personal hc’s btw!

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