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anticipatedexhale · 1 day ago

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Hey I love the way you write!!

I was wondering if I could request arcane characters reacting to reader pulling a tiktok prank on them like not saying ily or wiping their kiss or something along those lines I think it would be really funny :3

Hello hello!! Thank you soso much omg this has to be the best compliment ever! Also this idea is so cute omg love it!.

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Just kidding~~

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, ekko

☆ ◞ summary: when you wipe their kisses as a joke

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader.ermmm just fluff lol, really sweet, kinda suggestive (Mel..)

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been affectionate. He wasn’t the kind of man to hold back on physical affection—whether it was casual touches, lingering glances, or, most importantly, kisses.

So when he finally caught you in his arms after a long day, he wasted no time. “Missed you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a soft kiss there.

Then another.

And another.

You let him place a few more before casually lifting your hand… and wiping them away with the back of your sleeve.

Jayce froze.

You barely held back a smirk as he pulled back, blinking in exaggerated offense. “Wait. Did you just—”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “What?”

His lips parted in pure betrayal. “Did you just wipe off my kisses?”

You nodded, fighting the laughter bubbling up in your throat. “Yeah. Had to get rid of the evidence.”

Jayce narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

You hummed, tilting your head innocently.

Big mistake.

Because before you could react, Jayce lunged. He scooped you up effortlessly, lifting you right off your feet as you yelped in surprise. “JAYCE—”

“Oh no, no, no,” he laughed, grinning like a man with a mission. “Now I really gotta make sure my kisses stick.”

And with that, he attacked—peppering your face with kisses, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, anywhere he could reach. You squirmed, laughing as you weakly tried to push him away. “Okay—Jayce, stop!”

“Nope.” He grinned against your skin. “Gotta make sure you can’t wipe these off.”

He finally stopped when you were breathless with laughter, setting you down but keeping you close, hands resting on your waist.

“Still wanna wipe ‘em away?” he asked, his voice softer now, eyes warm as he gazed at you.

You smiled, pretending to think about it before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips instead. “Nah,” you murmured. “I’ll keep that one.”

Jayce’s grin was radiant as he kissed you back, slow and lingering, his hands pulling you just a little closer.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I’m never gonna stop giving them to you.”

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Mel Medarda.

Mel Medarda was a woman of grace, of control—and yet, when it came to you, she could be unexpectedly affectionate.

Which was why, after a long meeting, she found herself seated beside you on the velvet couch in her private chambers, fingers gently tilting your chin toward her. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she mused, her voice smooth as silk.

Before you could answer, she leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

Then another to your temple.

And another, right at the corner of your lips.

You let her linger for a moment before casually lifting your hand—

And wiping them away.

The air in the room shifted.

Mel pulled back just slightly, eyes narrowing ever so subtly as a small, knowing smile curved her lips. “Hmm.”

You met her gaze, feigning innocence. “What?”

Her fingers trailed down your jaw, her nails lightly grazing your skin. “Did you just wipe off my kisses?”

You shrugged, leaning back slightly. “Maybe.”

Mel hummed, considering you. Then, ever so gracefully, she stood, circling around you like a lioness sizing up her prey. “How bold,” she murmured, trailing a single finger across the back of your neck as she passed behind you.

You swallowed. You knew that tone.

Before you could react, she suddenly leaned down, hands pressing onto the couch on either side of you, trapping you beneath her golden gaze. “You do realize,” she whispered, lips brushing your ear, “that you’ve just started a war you cannot win.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you held your ground, lifting your chin defiantly. “Oh? And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Mel’s smirk deepened.

Then, in one slow, torturous motion, she kissed your jaw.

Then your cheek.

Then your neck.

Each kiss was softer, slower, more intentional—a silent challenge, a game only she could win.

You tensed, resisting the urge to melt under her touch, knowing exactly what she was doing.

Mel pulled back just slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Go on, then.” She tilted her head, daring you. “Wipe them off.”

You hesitated.

Her smirk widened.

Checkmate.

With a resigned sigh, you slumped back. “Okay, fine. You win.”

Mel chuckled, running a delicate hand through your hair before placing one final, lingering kiss on your lips. “Darling,” she murmured against them, “I always do.”

And this time, you didn’t dare wipe it away.

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Viktor.

Viktor wasn’t always the most openly affectionate person. His love was quiet, expressed in lingering touches, thoughtful words, and the occasional stolen moment between long hours in the lab.

But tonight, for once, the lab was forgotten. It was just the two of you, curled up on the worn-out couch in his workshop, a rare moment of peace.

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek.

Then another, just beneath your ear.

And, with a rare flicker of playfulness, one to the tip of your nose.

You let him do it, let him savor the moment—before lifting your hand and wiping them away with an exaggerated swipe.

Viktor paused.

Slowly, he pulled back, amber eyes blinking at you in confusion. “Did you just… wipe away my kisses?”

You nodded, barely holding back a grin. “Yep.”

He frowned slightly, tilting his head like he was trying to analyze you. “…Why?”

You shrugged. “Felt like it.”

Viktor stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, very softly, he murmured, “I see.”

And just like that, he started shifting away.

The warmth of his body left yours as he sat back, hands folding in his lap, an unreadable look crossing his face. You immediately felt cold.

Oh no.

You had expected him to pout, to tease you, maybe to try again—but instead, he looked almost defeated. His gaze flickered downward, a quiet, hesitant chuckle escaping him. “I suppose my affections are unwanted then?”

Your heart sank.

“No, no, no—Viktor, it was a joke,” you rushed, reaching for him before he could pull away further.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden shift in urgency. “A… joke?”

You nodded, grabbing his hands tightly. “I love your kisses.” You softened, guilt creeping into your voice. “I just wanted to mess with you a little. I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t want them.”

Viktor was quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in. Then, ever so slowly, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “…So, you do want them?”

You huffed. “Yes, obviously.”

He exhaled, amused, before suddenly tugging you right into his lap. You let out a startled sound as his arms circled you, his face now inches from yours. “Good,” he murmured.

And then, with that same teasing glint in his eye, he leaned in—kissing your cheek, your forehead, your nose, all over again.

You laughed, feeling warm again as he held you close. “Okay, okay! I get it!”

But Viktor didn’t stop. He hummed, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips before whispering against them, “I dare you to wipe that one away.”

You didn’t.

You never would.

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Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn wasn’t the type to show affection in extravagant ways. Her kisses were soft, subtle—gentle gestures that spoke more than words ever could.

But when the two of you were alone, she let her guard down just a little bit more. She’d pull you close after a long day of work, her fingers gently cupping your face before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Missed you today,” she’d whisper against your skin, soft and warm.

You smiled, running your fingers through her hair. “I missed you too.”

She pressed another kiss to your nose, then one on each of your cheeks. And then, just as she was about to place a kiss on your lips, you swiped your hand across your face, wiping them away dramatically.

Caitlyn froze.

You let out a small laugh, feigning innocence as you met her wide-eyed gaze. “What? I had to clean off all those kisses. Can’t leave the evidence lying around.”

Her lips parted in mock offense, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh really?”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Yep, really.”

Caitlyn shook her head in disbelief, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You know what? I think you need to be reminded of how good my kisses are.”

Before you could even respond, she leaned in quickly, catching your lips in a kiss so sweet and slow, it made your heart skip a beat. You tried to pull away, but Caitlyn wouldn’t let you, her hands gently guiding your face back toward hers, sealing you into the kiss.

When she finally pulled back, you were breathless. “I—"

“You’ve made your point,” you teased, trying to sound unaffected, but your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

Caitlyn’s grin was full of triumph. “Good.” She pressed another quick kiss to your nose before leaning back and crossing her arms. “Now, I think we need to go to the kitchen to finish what we started.”

“Finish…?”

“The game of ‘who can kiss who first without getting wiped away,’ of course,” she said, her eyes sparkling with playful competitiveness.

You sighed, pretending to roll your eyes, but the truth was—you didn’t mind at all. You could never get enough of Caitlyn’s kisses.

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Vi.

Vi had a tendency to be the type to show affection through actions rather than words. A hand on your shoulder after a hard day, a little wink, or a lingering touch. But there were moments—like now—when she let her guard down completely.

It had been a long day, full of tense meetings and far too many difficult conversations. Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the two of you found yourselves on the balcony of her apartment, the city lights flickering like tiny stars below you, Vi’s shoulders relaxed for the first time all day.

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then another one to your temple.

“Been thinking about you all day,” she murmured, her voice low and comforting.

You grinned, leaning into the kiss, but as she went for a third, this time on the corner of your lips, you quickly wiped them away with a swift swipe of your hand.

Vi paused, a little caught off guard. “Did you just—”

You smiled mischievously, holding back a laugh. “What? You had some lipstick on, I needed to clean it up.”

She stared at you for a moment, eyebrow raised, before an almost wicked grin spread across her face. “Oh, I see how it is.”

You blinked, confused for a second, before she grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly. Before you could react, Vi pulled you closer, pressing a quick, playful kiss to your lips.

“What’s the matter?” she teased, her voice full of amusement. “Didn’t want me kissing you? I can always go for a few more.”

You started to say something, but before you could, she placed kiss after kiss all over your face—your cheeks, your forehead, your nose—until you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, trying in vain to wipe them away.

“Vi! Stop!” you chuckled, half-heartedly swiping at your face as she grinned in victory.

She laughed, her strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close, a warmth radiating from her that had nothing to do with the city lights. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice turning softer, almost fond. “You’ve got a perfect face for kisses, and I’m gonna make sure you remember that.”

You melted into her embrace, the playful teasing mixed with something deeper—something that made your heart skip a beat.

And, despite your best efforts to wipe them away, you didn’t mind one bit.

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Jinx.

Jinx was never one for subtlety, especially when it came to how she felt about you. Her love was loud, chaotic, and sometimes downright unpredictable. But that was part of what made her so Jinx—so impossible to ignore.

Tonight was no different. After an eventful day filled with explosions, fireworks (literally), and a few too many close calls, Jinx found herself in a surprisingly calm moment with you. The two of you were sprawled out on the couch, watching the flickering neon lights of the city outside, a bag of candy between you as you both snacked and shared stories.

She looked over at you, a mischievous glint in her eye, before launching herself at you suddenly.

“Mwah!” Jinx planted a big, messy kiss on your cheek, smacking it loudly.

You blinked, laughing as you wiped your cheek dramatically. “What was that for?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Just felt like it.”

Before you could say anything else, she pressed another kiss to your forehead—this time, even more exaggerated, leaving a sticky trace of candy on your skin.

You sighed in mock annoyance, wiping your forehead as if it was covered in goo. “Jinx, seriously.”

“Oh, no! Don’t wipe it off!” She gasped, leaping back to hold your hands away. “I spent all this time planning my kiss attack and you're just gonna—”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics. “What attack? You just kissed me!”

But Jinx wasn’t about to let it go. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned in again, this time aiming for your lips.

You had just enough time to react and swipe your hand across your lips, wiping away the kiss before it could land.

She froze, staring at you in exaggerated shock. “Did you—did you just wipe my kiss away?!”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “I didn’t want your lipstick all over me.”

“Lipstick?! Are you kidding? I don’t wear lipstick! It’s my love, dummy!” she protested, a wild sparkle dancing in her eyes.

“Sure, sure,” you teased, wiping your lips again just to mess with her.

Jinx pouted for a second before her playful nature kicked back in. “Alright then. If you wanna play dirty, so be it.” She pressed her face against yours in a flurry of chaotic kisses, planting them on your cheeks, nose, chin—everywhere—until you were laughing too hard to keep wiping them away.

“Jinx! Stop! You’re getting my face all wet!”

“Nope!” she replied gleefully, her wild hair bouncing around as she grinned like she had just won some grand victory. “You started this, now you gotta finish it!”

In the end, you gave up, letting her have her fun. There was no way you’d win against Jinx when she was like this—wild and unpredictable, but so full of love in her own explosive way.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Ekko.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Ekko to find small moments of peace in the chaos that surrounded your lives. Despite the constant hustle of the city, there were times when everything just slowed down. Tonight was one of those times.

The two of you sat on the roof of one of Ekko’s safehouses, looking out over the lights of the city as the evening breeze played with your hair. It was quiet, serene even. The perfect kind of night for some simple moments of affection.

Ekko smiled softly as he leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You know," he started, his voice low and warm, "I’ve been thinking… I really like these moments with you. Just us, you know?"

You smiled back at him, feeling your heart flutter. “Me too.”

In an instant, his lips pressed gently to your cheek, soft and warm. He lingered for a second, just enjoying the closeness before pulling back, his hand still resting against your face.

You reached up and dramatically wiped the spot where he kissed you. "Mmm, I think I got something on my cheek," you teased, pretending to be serious.

Ekko blinked in surprise, before chuckling, his expression full of amusement. “What, you’re wiping off my kiss?”

You gave him an exaggerated pout. “Yeah, I think it was a little too much. I mean, I did just wash my face, Ekko.”

His face fell for a moment, the playful energy turning into mock hurt. “I see how it is… You’re rejecting my love.”

You laughed, giving him an apologetic look. “No, no, I’m just—”

Before you could finish, Ekko leaned in quickly, planting a kiss on your nose. You swiped at your nose instinctively, as if you could stop the kiss from sticking.

"Hey!" he protested, raising an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What’d I tell you about rejecting my kisses?"

You grinned, wiping your nose again. “I wasn’t rejecting them, just, um, cleaning them off."

Ekko rolled his eyes, but the playful sparkle in his gaze was unmistakable. He leaned in once more, this time pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you could do anything about it.

“You can wipe it off,” he teased, grinning widely as he pulled back, “but you won’t get rid of it that easily.”

You laughed, your heart warming at the way he could always make you feel so lighthearted, so at ease. “I didn’t want to wipe it off, Ekko,” you said softly, leaning into his chest. "I just wanted to see how you’d react."

Ekko’s grin softened, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. “You know I’ll always kiss you, no matter what. Even if you pretend to wipe them off a hundred times.”

You snuggled against him, your heart full of affection. "I know, Ekko. I know."

Hello my lovelies! I really hope you enjoy this! It was much shorter than I expected it to be...but I hope it's enough for you guys, I chose wiping away the kisses because I found the ideas to be much more hilarious, but if you'd like to see me doing the other one I would love to!! <33

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moonstruckme · 1 day ago

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Here’s my idea for Spencer and intern!reader if you’d be so kind to write it <3 something like Spencer comforting reader after she saw/experienced something rough and is trying not to show emotion bc she thinks that’s what being on the team is

Thank you for requesting!

cw: crime scene, no descriptions but there is a body and the killing is discussed in vague terms, nausea, reader is a bau intern but also an adult

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re all bottled up. Spencer should be listening to the police officer telling them about witnesses who discovered the victim, but you’re distracting him. You’re breathing deep and slow, intentionally, and your gaze flickers between the cop and the body like you’re not sure which deserves your attention more. Your skin looks waxy in the morning light.

Spencer is able to step away fairly easily, leaving JJ and Morgan with the officer as he grasps your elbow to pull you with him.

Closer, your breaths are audibly stilted. “What’s up?” you ask, sounding remarkably composed despite how your eyes are still moving between Spencer and the victim.

He walks you away from the crowd, back towards the SUV. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You say it too fast. Spencer watches you realize this, and in the same moment you know of course he has too.

Still, he says gently, “You look like you’re going to faint. If you are, it’s better if you tell me.”

You reach the SUV. Spencer opens the passenger side, expecting you to sit in the seat to steady yourself, but you only take refuge behind the door. Away from the eyes of the rest of the team, you close your eyes, sucking in another deep breath.

“I’m not going to faint,” you say on the exhale. This time, with enough conviction that Spencer believes you. “I’m really sorry, I just—I feel sort of sick.”

“That’s okay,” he murmurs.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Do you want some water?” Spencer reaches into the glove box to find an unopened bottle. “Here, drink small sips of this.”

“I’m okay,” you say, twisting the cap off to do as he says.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he offers. “I know it’s not your first crime scene, but it can be disturbing, the things we see. You know, for most people, even smelling a dead body without seeing it is enough to…” He slows when he can hear his team groaning at him in his head. Spence, JJ would say, in her fond and motherly way, not helping. “...to…well, you know. It’s a lot.”

You give a little laugh. Fortunately, you seem not to be affected by Spencer reminding you of the smell. Unfortunately, you now look closer to tears than vomiting.

“I know we have to see this stuff all the time.” Your voice is choked down to a whisper, face pointed at the ground. Spencer finds himself leaning closer to hear you. “And I know that none of the deaths are pretty, or…or easy. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to let it affect me.”

“That’s nothing to be sorry about. We’re all affected.”

“But you don’t show it.”

“We have…we have practice. But we all show it sometimes. Some cases are worse for some of us than others.”

“I guess I just haven’t—” Your voice splinters, and Spencer’s heart does a poor mimicry of the sound. “—haven’t seen one this…intentional yet.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as two tears streak down your cheeks. You look frustrated and afraid, and even younger than usual. Spencer has his arms around you without knowing how he got there.

He understands what you mean. The cases you’ve worked so far have been awful in their own ways, but this killer took his time in a way the others didn’t. He left his victim mutilated, torn apart with a cold-hearted meticulousness that would be enough to horrify even the most seasoned agent. By your anguish, Spencer knows you’ve probably seen it all play out in your mind a dozen times.

Spencer thinks of himself as an empathetic person. He’s seen some terrible things, but he still tries to meet people, especially people at his job, with compassion and kindness. It doesn’t explain why he’s so startlingly desperate to soothe you.

He holds the back of your head and keeps you folded into him, his other hand rubbing your back as you take in a wet, shuddering inhale.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

Your voice is a choked, fraught thing. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I want to be professional.”

“Sweetheart” —it slips out without him meaning for it to; Spencer ploughs ahead before either of you can think about it— “you’re not being unprofessional. This is…this is what we do. It’s hard sometimes. Everyone here understands that. Everyone on our team has done what you’re doing.”

Another short, soft laugh, followed by a sniffle. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re so good at this?”

Spencer pauses. “No, I’m…well, I wouldn’t say I am good at this, actually. I’m glad you think so, though.”

“Yeah, you are.” You straighten, wiping underneath your eyes with a knuckle. “God, everyone is going to know I cried.”

He can’t deny that. “They won’t care,” he promises you instead. “No one will ask questions if you don’t want them to. We all get it.”

“I knew there were some really fucked up people out there,” you say in a small voice. “I just haven’t really thought as much about the people who…” Your gaze shifts, as if drawn by a magnet, through the tinted window of the SUV and back toward the crime scene. Your expression goes haunted. “...who they…”

Spencer puts his hand to the side of your face. It’s not like him, and your eyes widen at the contact but you let him direct your attention away. Your skin is warm and tacky against his fingertips.

“It might help to sit down for a minute,” he suggests gently. You’re pliable, allowing him to nudge you back into the passenger seat. “Drink some more, okay? Do you still feel sick?”

You think about it, then shake your head. “Not really.”

“Let’s wait a bit anyway.”

You swallow some water. Worry your lip. “You shouldn't have to coddle me.”

“It’s not coddling,” Spencer says quickly. Too quickly, maybe. Luckily, you’re not as skilled a profiler and you don’t catch him. “It’s okay to step away sometimes. They don’t need us over there right now.”

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Spencer.”

He gets called lots of things. Spencer is one of them, of course, along with Reid, Spence, Kid, Boy Genius, and sometimes even Professor. None of them sounds as heavy sweet as his name on your lips.

“We can wait here.” He decides it as it comes out of his mouth. He’ll have to get the details of the crime scene secondhand, might even make a trip to the coroner’s later to inspect the body himself, but in this moment Spencer can’t think of anything he wouldn’t do to make you comfortable. Inconveniences are trivial. “They’ll come find us when they’re ready to go to the station.”

You look conflicted, your dedication to the team warring with your obvious desire to avoid being near the victim again. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Spencer’s own voice sounds distant as he tries to make sense of the unfamiliar tug in his middle. “I’m sure.”

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angelthefandomobsessed · 1 day ago

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After putting it off continuously, I have downloaded and started to play chapter 1. I’m riiiight before the trial, so I decided to go back and read this analysis to see if it was still holding up…

(Some chapter 1 spoilers ahead)

Desmond is totally a bodyguard to Eloise or something, right? Eva had his secret which implied his priority was protecting someone else (unless I’ve gotten mixed up which is a real possibility, I am very tired). He’s seems to be around her a lot (if memory serves, they were both in the courtyard in the prologue), and fencing is a very upper class pastime. Plus, one of the most famous swan stories is the swan princess, adding to that air of nobility that Eloise has.

I wrote: ‘Sharks, apparently, symbolise protection and guidance, so I think Desmond will probably pair up with another character... which will lead to an untimely death, with a very sad flashback scene at the end of a trial.’

Hi, hello, I fear I may have been on point with that.

I also wrote about Wolfgang being a wolf in sheep’s clothing, which was directly mentioned through the motive. Not the most outrageous of predictions, but good for my ego all the same.

To put my predictions for the first trial down (for funsies):

I don’t think it can be Damon, Eva, Cassidy, Jett, Mark, Kai, Jean, or Grace. The only potential exceptions in this list are Jean and Grace, who arrived late. For either of them to be the culprit, the murder would have needed to involve a trap that could be set off without them. However, for that to be the case, there would need to be another person in the boiler room, as someone was heard running away, and all eight people were accounted for at the time.

Ruling out Jean and Grace, I’m left with Toshiko, Ingrid, Diana, Wenona, Ulysses, Eloise, and Desmond.

I believe that Ulysses wrote the note. It matches his handwriting the closest, and he is always seen with a notebook. The wire piece at the scene also looked like a leg from a pair of glasses, with how rounded the end was. I’m pretty sure Wenona gave him an alibi, so I’m not fully convinced that he’s the killer, but I have sus on him.

Toshiko is a little suspicious, as she mentioned cereal at the start of the chapter, and cereal was apparently involved in the breaking of the generator. I’m not double checking this in case I get spoiled, but I imagine she wears socks and sandals of some sort because that’s traditional wear? Eva (I think it was her) mentioned that the person running sounded like they were in socks. There’s also the fact that Ingrid was sick, and Toshiko was her room mate, and that she was confirmed that have visited the pharmacy, and that Wolfgang appears to have a pin prick at his neck… She’s afraid of needles, though, so that might clear her (unless she was lying, but that seems… convoluted).

Diana is super suspicious, but way too obviously so? It could be her (she eluded to having some sort of pre-established plan for the morning, but then claimed to be testing make-up).

Logically, I suspect Ulysses. Narratively, I suspect Eloise.

I am not confident either way, I will be amazed if it’s someone one of the tournaments 8.

As for the method, I’ll go with this theory: Wolfgang was either called down to the boiler room through the note (OR he intercepted a summons meant for someone else), he arrived around 8:10, as instructed. He was knocked out with the rolling pin, the killer drew blood from his neck to splatter through the halls (falsifying evidence), and set some kind of bomb up at the generator. They put Wolfgang in the water, reversed the lock, locked the door. If this is anything close to the order of events, then I’m actually more suspicious of Jean.

Some kind of magic battery was mentioned, which Jett and Jean spoke about. If that was the basis for the destruction of the generator (or, if it was the cause of the electricity), that would implicate the two people who knew about it. Jean was late to the tournament, and knew that being there would give him an alibi. Wolfgang had burns on his hands - maybe Jett knows a thing or two about that specific burning and can crack the case open.

Okay, I’m going to bed now, before I start putting red wool on the walls.

Danganronpa Project Eden's Garden: Animal Symbolism

Okay, so I just finished the prologue (adored it, the writing is impeccable), and noticed that each character features an animal on their clothing. I'm sure tons of people have pointed it out already, but I thought it'd be fun to go through the symbolism of each, alongside any other observations I had.

Damon Maitsu:

Damon's signature animal is one of the more obvious ones - it's the big snake on his tie. Biblically, snakes are kind of a big deal... Just one snake, really, which gave all of the others a bad name. In 'Garden of Eden' arc of the Bible (which is relevant for obvious reasons), a snake tempts Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. The snake basically says "Hey queen, the apple won't kill you, it'll show you the truth, God's a liar." Adam and Eve eat the fruit, condemning humanity to eternal suffering.

Painting Damon as the snake tells us a lot about his role in the narrative and his characterisation. The main theme for Eden's Garden seems to be 'head vs heart', or 'logic vs emotion'. While some characters lean towards emotion, Damon leans towards logic... But based on the Pathos system, he doesn't fully condemn emotion - it can be a good tool when it comes to winning arguments, after all.

At the end of the prologue, Damon disagrees with seeing the good in everyone. He argues that the ultimates are more likely to stab each other in the back than to help each other unconditionally... In other words, he argues that ultimates are ambitious, to the point of throwing away their morals - because he himself is ambitious to a fault.

While a lot of people see snakes as creatures of evil (particularly when it comes to THE snake in the Bible), it could be argued that the snake is an agent of the greater good. Yes, the snake was the catalyst for the fall of humanity, but you could argue it was also the catalyst for the first critical thought. Adam and Eve questioned the word of their creator and chose to go against him. That didn't end very well for them, but you could argue it liberated them.

Would you rather be a sheep, at the mercy of your shepherd, or a snake that sees the world for what it truly is?

Wolfgang Akire:

Speaking of sheep... Wolfgang has a pretty neat (very symbolic) sheep pin. The idea of him picking out a sheep pin in like... a Claire's Accessories is very funny to me.

Much like snakes, sheep are also very Biblically relevant. In the Bible, God's people are usually cloaked in sheep imagery. God is the shepherd (fun fact: 'shepherd' derives from 'sheep' 'herd'), and the sheep are at his mercy. In that light, a sheep is a truly powerless thing.

Perhaps Wolfgang's sheep pin denotes him as a follower rather than a leader. Not to a specific person, but rather to an ideology - to his own morals, which he seems very attached to. Sheep are often seen as weak, existing only to be devoured by stronger, more predatory animals.

But this symbolism might exist here to be subverted. One of the most popular sheep-based phrases is (drum roll please): "Wolf in sheep's clothing".

Lawyer man is, quite literally, a wolf in sheep's clothing. His name has the word 'wolf' in it. He has a sheep on his clothing.

Does Wolfgang obsess over justice due to a guilty conscious? Is it a cover to mask his deepest, most despicable thoughts? Only time will tell, but I'm onto you, lawyer man... If that's even your real name.

Eva Tsunaka:

Okay, so I'm not 100% sure if Eva's animal is a raven or a crow, but I don't think it matters too much, people tend to perceive 'ominous medium-sized black bird' in a similar way, regardless of the specifics. Eva has a black feather in her hair and a badge with a bird's head on it. The badge looks a little bit emu-ish (which would be really funny), but the general vibe is more in line with a crow/raven.

For simplicity's sake, I'll mostly talk about ravens, because I think (don't quote me on this, I have not read the actual Bible) crows are never actually mentioned... but ravens are, so we'll go with that.

SO, ravens, black birds. Apparently, the first bird to be mentioned by name in the Bible is the raven, which... lines up with Eva being the first named bird character we meet (there are a lot of bird people, we'll get to it). During the whole Noah's Arc debacle, Noah sent out a raven to scout for dry land - it didn't come back (I think? It gets mentioned, 'tos and fros' and then doesn't get mentioned again, so I think it dipped which honestly, girlboss move).

Other than that, a raven was used as a divine messenger at one point, but I think the much more interesting (and relevant) aspects of the raven is the general symbolism.

Ravens are usually seen as bad news - much like the snake, they get a bad rep. While they are often seen as bad omens, they can also be seen as beings of spiritual wisdom. They see more than others can, much like Eva. When the others start to do the whole 'We'll never kill each other!' it's Eva who disagrees, seeing the reality of the situation.

Based on the word 'Danganronpa' being associated with the game, we can assume she's correct, and that the bodies will start hitting the floor very soon.

Eva is wise and holds a lot of knowledge, but she is distrusted for reasons outwith her control. She didn't ask to be the ultimate liar - some random organisation sent her a letter one day putting that label on her.

Interestingly, ravens are the natural enemies of farmers... and Wolfgang has a distinct agricultural reference on his lapel.

To summarise: people don't like ravens, but they're very smart birds who can (in certain mythologies/cultures, at least), see beyond the surface level).

Toshiko Kayura:

Toshiko's assigned animal is a little harder to spot. Two flamingos are on her skirt as a decal, making them less obvious (especially during waist-up shots).

Okay, so I'm no expert on this, but I'm pretty sure there aren't any flamingos in the Bible. Flamingos played a part in Egyptian beliefs, being associated with Ra, and they might actually be the original inspiration for phoenixes which... is kind of hilarious? The Aztecs saw them as sacred, and in Hindu culture they symbolise hamsa, a divine vehicle, which symbolises the realise from samsara, aka the cycle of suffering.

So... that could be a thing relating to Toshiko. She could be destined to act as a turning point in the narrative (either through death or through character development, same difference).

Or, we could go with the really obvious interpretation of 'flamingo = romance'. Which is very on-brand. Additionally, flamingos represent balance and elegance - mainly because of their 'standing on one leg' trick. Toshiko most likely strives to embody the qualities of a flamingo in these regards.

The use of flamingos in Toshiko's design might point to her being 'the heart' of the group. She's shown to be quite emotional (becoming flustered when challenged, avoiding the investigation, getting into an argument over gremlin-hood with Grace), despite trying to emulate a mature aura. She speaks in frivolous, convoluted imagery, which is peak fourteen-year-old behaviour, and if anything bad happens to her I will cry :D

Ulysses Wilhelm:

Rather than having a picture of an animal, Ulysses wears an owl pendant. Owls represent wisdom, and are particularly fitting for Ulysses due to him being more of a night owl.

Biblically, owls are seen as unclean birds, alongside ravens. They aren't overly relevant, but are (allegedly, according to some random Bible forum) used to symbolise loneliness, desolation, guilt and mourning. In a broader sense, owls are seen as wise, critical-thinking creatures, and independent.

Because of this, I think Ulysses will fall into the Damon/Eva camp of thinking, due to his historical knowledge. Because if history's taught us anything, it's that people can't be trusted, they will self-sabotage, and murder is inevitable.

I don't have much else to say - Ulysses feels like an early victim/blackened candidate, unfortunately, so I don't think he'll be playing a major role narratively.

Desmond Hall:

This one's a little hard to spot immediately (and when I did spot it, I wasn't sure which animal it belonged to), but according to the concept art Desmond has a shark tooth earring.

There are no sharks in the Bible. Sharks, apparently, symbolise protection and guidance, so I think Desmond will probably pair up with another character... which will lead to an untimely death, with a very sad flashback scene at the end of a trial. Or he'll survive, who says Biblical relevancy matters? Sharks are pretty cool and so is Desmond.

I think he'll be an optimist in the situation, but I... don't have much to say regarding his animal motif.

Grace Madison:

This one is pretty up there for the 'easiest to spot award'. Grace's animal is a rabbit, which can be seen by her (adorable) rabbit-eared visor.

Biblically rabbits are pretty irrelevant, but symbolically they're very prominent. Rabbits are probably most famous for their easter connotations (you'd think they'd be Biblical, but no, it just says not to eat them). Rabbits are also known as lucky animals - 'rabbit feet' are seen as lucky talismans...

If Grace ends up with a severed foot, I'm going to lose my mind.

Anyway, since Grace is the resident 'reckless and crude' character, I would theorise her link to rabbits would be 'rebirth'. Rabbits are associated with spring, which is associated with rebirth. I think Grace (who is described as someone who burns every bridge she makes) will undergo the Fuyuhiko treatment and see a lot of character development.

Not much else for me to say here, but rabbits are generally seen as active animals (energiser bunny, the Scorbunny line), so... yay sports..?

Diana Venicia:

I do not trust this girl as far as I can throw her. I saw her across the room and thought, "No, you're evil", and the chameleon bracelet did not help her case.

Like... not only does it suggest she's hiding something, or that she's a social chameleon, but it looks like a handcuff, that cannot be comfortable. And oddly enough, chameleons do feature in the Bible... and it's very odd, and very interesting.

Basically, chameleons conform to their surroundings through their unique abilities. God likes that for them, but not for humans - apparently, they should challenge things rather than just conforming to them. Which like, okay, someone changed their tune from "Don't do this one thing, no I will not elaborate". In actuality, what this means is "you should not be different on Monday to how you were on Sunday", aka, be #authentic.

Also, chameleons are seen as 'not standing up for what's right', so I guess that's where Diana falls on the morality spectrum, maybe possibly?

Diana is hiding something, she's on my mastermind radar but it feels a little too obvious? If she's not a mastermind, she hiding something and is a killer, nothing can redeem her from being shady in my eyes. I'm onto you, make-up girl...

(My guess is the beauty industry/Hollywood requires a degree of fakery, and she hates it, but she wanted to be successful so she gave into the fakery, and lost her true self in the process. And hey, maybe at some point she decided that she had to see the true twistedness of humanity via a killing game, who knows? Plus, make-up, that's very Junko-ish of her, just saying-)

Jean DeLamer:

Okay, so some people got 'owl' or 'flamingo', but this man got a whole dragon. And he cannot be more deserving of it, fly high king.

I really didn't think there were dragons in the Bible, but apparently they get a mention (in all fairness, it's a real big book). Fun fact: Biblically, they are usually mentioned to reference sea monsters. On brand for our sea captain. Bad news though, dragons are pretty exclusively evil (sometimes straight-up Satan), and are vanquished by God. So... Not great for Jean, honestly, that's concerning.

Could he have a connection to the killing game? He could be a traitor of some sort, or he could try to rise up against the KG and get struck down.

Basically: Jean has no power here, he will lose every time, if the Bible-dragons are anything to go by.

Anyways, dragons are pretty relevant in... most cultures, so this is probably the most interesting thing I can dig up.

Jett Dawson:

In my original post, I mislabelled Jett's animal as a wolf. Somebody in the comments corrected me, pointing out that it's a coyote. Coyotes are closely related to wolves, so there's some symbolic overlap, but I'll rewrite the section anyways, because the original didn't shed much light on anything.

Biblically, coyotes are in a bit of an odd spot. They're seen as cunning and dangerous for the most part, but in Isaiah's passage (disclaimer: I haven't read it, I'm doing the deeply unacademic thing of trusting 'straightforwardguidance'.com) he complains that coyotes and lizards are more grateful to him than humans. This is used to demean the coyote; a wild animal is better than people in Isaiah's eyes, placing them at the low end of societal importance (not literally, ofc).

Apparently, the bible also describes these animals as being wise, due to their hunting tactics. Coyotes will hunt rabbits as a team, with one tiring a rabbit out and another finishing it off. This little tidbit does not bode well for Grace, our rabbit. But, to be fair, the presence of a coyote wouldn't go well for most small animals.

I don't have too much to say about coyotes, beyond their obvious similarity to wolves. Wolves tend to hunt sheep (which gave them a bit of a negative biblical rep), but let's be real, a sheep isn't winning many battles out in the wild.

Jett strikes me as a 'tragic killer', like our usual chapter 2/4 killers. There's wildcard energy to him, though - I could see him killing, surviving or dying, but whatever happens, there'll be a plot point surrounding his face, it seems too interesting to not be a thing.

Kai Monteago:

Butterfly, on chest, let's go.

Most obvious interpretation: social butterfly, he's an influencer.

Biblically, they're pretty irrelevant, but symbolically they're all about transformation. This could indicate character development, a change in tune, etc. Not much to say here, it could represent vulnerability (butterflies are fragile), but it's most likely a reference to the phrase social butterfly.

Mark 'Mayhem' Berskii:

His hat is, indeed, an alligator. At first I thought it was a dragon, then a crocodile, but the concept art confirms it to be an alligator.

Google couldn't tell me much about Bible alligators, which was expected. What it can tell me is the symbolism behind them, though.

Alligators are cunning and wise. Which adds up here, Mark seems way smarter than he lets on. He makes a comment at the end of a non-stop debate (something about setting the trash fire) which suggests he's a critical thinker, seeing the misguided logic in the room.

They are also apex predators with a lot of strength which... is concerning, in terms of potential murderers. Since they've been around since the prehistoric age, alligators are seen as having an ancient, primal aura about them.

I feel there's more than meets the eye with Mark - he'll carry a key discovery or two, just you wait.

Wenona:

Wenona is the girlboss we need, as well as the girlboss we deserve, no further questions. Her animal decal is a little less obvious than others', being bear pawprints at the bottom of her coat.

My favourite Bible story ever (because it's hilarious out of context) is the one about Elisha and the bears, where two bears maul forty-two children because they made fun of a guy. So, maybe don't get on her bad side via mockery.

Interestingly, bears are used to symbolise cruelty and self-servedness which... adds up here, I guess.

Symbolically, bears are a little more cuddly than the Bible makes them out to be. They're known for hibernation, making them quite patient and cautious animals. Bears are grounded animals and represent strength, being fearsome predators.

Wenona is very set in her views, and appears to be unwavering, much like a bear.

Eloise Taulner:

Eloise wears a swan pin in her hair, making that her signature animal. Swans are graceful and vicious; a fascinating combination for a character like Eloise.

In the Bible, swans are everything you'd assume a white bird to be. It's all very 'this bird is the serene love of god, do not eat it, but for different reasons'.

Symbolically, swans are loyal birds, being of the 'mates for life' variety. Something interesting to mention is the concept of a swan song - a song that laments death, said to be the most beautiful song ever sung by a swan, despite the birds being far from natural singers. In Greek mythology, swans were sacred to both Aphrodite and Apollo, with Apollo being the god of music.

Which presents the possibility of a friendship between Mark and Elodie, with him being 'music' and her being a swan.

Swans are very powerful birds, so Eloise's character arc will probably involve her becoming stronger in terms of willpower and confidence.

Ingrid Grimwall:

This one's a little harder to spot, but Ingrid's animal symbol is on her bag, in the form of a lion.

Lions are generally seen as brave, proud animals. The main Biblical story that comes to mind is the story of Daniel, who was thrown into a den of lions. A lion's roar is intended to paralyse its foes with fear, but can its bite match its bark? I suspect Ingrid will be a big talker, but less keen to take actual initiative. Male lions are known for being less active than their pride members, with the female lions doing the hunting.

Although, you could argue that a lion is a natural leader. These qualities don't need to be exclusive though - why not be a leader and a layabout?

Besides that, there's pride and family and strength, but the less prominent placement of Ingrid's emblem tells me she'll be less fearsome than her classmates.

Cassidy Amber:

Cassidy's a little bit different from the others. Her animal motif doesn't have a specific portrayal of the animal (much like Wenona's and Ulysses'), and hers is repeated as a pattern - Cassidy wears tights with a spiderweb pattern.

Now, spiders are pretty well known for trapping things. It's kind of their whole deal. This gives Cassidy some serious mastermind vibes to me, especially when coupled with the fact that she's married to the content grind, loves games, and has a lot of money to throw around.

But anyway, the Bible just kind of complains about their webs being fragile, which could be interpreted as 'her fanbase isn't a true connection to others, they'll abandon her the second someone new catches their attention'. In reality, the Bible doesn't hold up for most of these, but like... it's interesting, right?

Spiders could be described as patient killers. They weave intricate webs for their victims and wait for the opportune moment to strike. Spiders are often feared, with arachnophobia being one of the most popular phobias. Cassidy herself is capable of projecting an unsettling aura and might be described as unnerving.

Fun fact: Red spiders specifically symbolise wealth, passion and excitement, which lines up pretty well with our pro-gamer.

In Conclusion:

I spent way too long making this.

Also, the Bible was pretty useless for most of these BUT the Bible reflects a lot of general perceptions (because it set quite a few of them), so it was sometimes interesting, I think, I'm tired, send help, goodnight!

(If you've made it this far, say hi or something, this took three hours and for what?)

#project eden's garden #danganronpa #danganronpa fangame #theory #analysis

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itsnesss · 3 days ago

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hi! can I request a hwang in-ho x pregnant wife!reader? I think it would be really cute, but feel free to turn it down if you’re uncomfortable! Thank you! <3

𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | hwang in-ho (the frontman) × fem!reader

summary | you, pregnant and married to in-ho, share a quiet, loving moment with him as you both feel the baby move

warnings | pregnant!reader, fluff, romance, mild emotional themes

word count | 1.9 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

In bed, you and him share a well-deserved rest after so many emotions. The sound of his calm breathing lulls you, like a whisper that connects you to him even more deeply.

You slowly open your eyes. It’s one of those nights when you wake up for no apparent reason, as if something called you. At first, you can't identify it, but when you glance to your side and see Hwang In-ho, your husband, sleeping soundly, you understand. There is nothing to fear at this moment, nothing that could break the peace surrounding you.

The pregnancy has made you more sensitive than usual, and though sometimes you feel the fatigue overwhelming you, being here, in his arms, with your baby growing inside you, makes everything else fade away.

You gaze at In-ho with a mixture of admiration and love. His face, serene and relaxed in sleep, reflects a calmness that has always given you security. The man who once was part of the dark operation of Squid Game is now the man who takes care of you, the one who has given you the life you always dreamed of.

You move carefully, trying not to wake him. Your belly, already big and round, constantly reminds you of what’s coming, of what you’ve already done: giving life to a new person who will grow alongside you, sharing the same values of love, loyalty, and peace you’ve found with him.

In-ho, sensing the movement, slowly wakes up. His expression, still sleepy, turns to concern as he sees you sitting on the bed.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, his voice rough from sleep.

"No, I just... couldn’t sleep," you reply softly, offering a small smile.

He sits up, studying you with that protective intensity he’s always had. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of the night; he always worries about you, about how you feel. Since the moment you told him you were expecting a baby, he hasn’t stopped showing you his support.

"Is the baby okay?" he asks, his voice now filled with care and concern.

You nod, placing your hand gently on your belly.

"Yes, everything is perfect. It's just... sometimes it’s hard to rest."

He moves closer, placing his hand over yours, which rests on your belly, and looks at you with those eyes that always seem to shine more when he’s looking at you.

"I understand. This pregnancy has tested you, but you're not alone. I’m here, remember? I’ll always be by your side."

A wave of gratitude and love floods you as you hear his words. You know they aren’t just empty promises; he’s proven it in every little gesture, in every action. In-ho has been the pillar that has supported your life, not only in the happy moments but also in the darkest ones. And now, with the baby on the way, his support is more important than ever.

You lean closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He embraces you tightly, as if he wants to make sure nothing can harm you, that nothing can take you out of this safe place.

"I love you," you whisper, closing your eyes as you enjoy his warmth.

In-ho breathes deeply, as though by inhaling your scent, he draws strength from it. At first, he doesn’t respond, but then his voice, soft and filled with affection, breaks the silence.

"I love you too, more than words can express. Not just for what you do for me, but for everything you are."

His words are like a caress to your soul. Since you married him, your life has changed in ways you never imagined. What started as a love full of uncertainty is now the foundation of your world. He’s shown you an unconditional love, a love that transcends the past and everything both of you have gone through before finding each other.

Suddenly, a small movement inside you makes you smile. It’s the baby, reminding you that there’s a new life growing inside you, that soon it will be part of this great love you share with In-ho. You feel that he notices it too, as he looks down at your belly.

"Did you feel that?" he asks, a spark of excitement shining in his eyes.

"Yes, it just moved," you say, your voice full of tenderness, and you can’t help but stroke your belly as if doing so will transmit all the love you feel.

In-ho places his hand over yours, feeling the tiny kick of his child for the first time. He smiles with a mix of disbelief and happiness. You know the idea of being a father fills him with a deep love that he never expected.

"It’s incredible... I can’t wait to hold him in my arms," he says, his voice filled with emotion, more sincere than you ever imagined.

You smile and hug him tighter. Words aren’t needed at this moment. The connection between the two of you is deeper than any conversation. Everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve endured, now makes sense. Because the future ahead is brighter than you ever imagined.

You stay in silence for a moment, enjoying the embrace, the quiet intimacy. Time passes without you even realizing it, until the first rays of sunlight begin to filter through the window. In-ho kisses your forehead before getting up slowly, making sure not to wake you completely.

"I’m going to make breakfast," he says in a soft voice, smiling.

You stretch, feeling a bit tired but happy. The idea that he’s there for you, doing little things to make you feel good, makes you smile.

"Don’t worry, I can wait," you softly reply, settling back into the bed.

But he looks at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness he rarely shows in public, and walks over to you again, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you won’t go hungry," he says with a playful smile.

You laugh softly and watch him leave the room, his steps firm and assured. You know that In-ho will always be the man who makes you feel safe, who will never stop fighting for you, for the baby, for your family. The future with him is everything you ever wanted.

You sit there in silence, thinking about all that is to come. In-ho’s love has changed you in ways you never expected. Not only has he given you a new life, but he’s shown you a love that will always be there, even on the darkest days.

#squid game #squid game x fem!reader #squid game x reader #hwang inho #in ho #front man x fem reader #front man x you #front man x reader #the front man #front man

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mr-tony-stark · 2 days ago

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Tony raised his eyebrow. “Is it? See. I don’t know anything about romance. That just feels… normal. Like why would I want to hide something that makes me so happy?” He shrugged. “But there’s a difference between hiding and keeping private. Right? Like I’ll tell Rhodey all kinds of shit, but he’s my best friend. I’m not going to tell some random stranger. I wouldn’t go up to a random stranger and ask them about their sex life. So why should they get to ask me.” He shrugged. “You probably aren’t going to get asked stuff like that though. On red carpets they might say something like ‘how did you manage to tie him down’ but usually they’ll just ask about your outfit and maybe how long it’s been going on. I guess they might ask you think about wedding bells as we are seen together more and more. And if it’s an official interview, you can tell them what’s okay to ask and what isn’t. The only people who might say inappropriate stuff is paps. They’re not doing it because they’re expecting an answer. They’re doing it to get a reaction. So in those cases, it’s better to just shut up and ignore them. A photo of you walking and getting into a car isn’t worth anything. A photo of you getting upset or flustered is.”

He put his hand on Clint’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Not sure how I can protect you from the attention now you’re the Hawkeye though. I mean no one really knows what Dolly Parton’s husband looks like, but he’s not an Avenger.”

He laughed. “Oh yeah? Will you make that honk honk noise when you cum?” he teased.

Clint glanced at him every now and then and couldn’t help but smile a bit at his words. “That was kind of romantic though. Saying you want people to know we’re together,” he spoke and hummed. “But okay I’ll try not to think about it too much,” he spoke gently and took his hand from his thigh and kissed it gently. “Sorry for rambling, the spotlight is just scary for me,” he spoke honestly.

He thought for a second and smirks a bit. “However if you do have a clown kink I’ll be happy to explore,” he spoke obviously joking and wiggles his eyebrows laughing a little bit as he finally drove down the road towards the farm of his neighbour/friend.

#norabarnes143 #tony x clint #hooking up

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mggslover · 13 hours ago

Text

Valentines Savior

In which Spencer saves his best friend from a failed Valentines date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff x slight angst Content warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is tipsy, reader curses, confessions of love, vague mention of reader having abandonment issues, suggestive joke Word count: 3,6k A/n: happy valentines my lovers! 💛

Everything seemed perfect. And maybe that was the problem.

The restaurant you found yourself in had the perfect setting. There was the right amount of background noise: the clinking of wine glasses, muffled talking, occasional laughing in the back, and a jazz band playing the most atmospheric tunes. The lights weren’t too harsh—a pet peeve of yours—and the food was delicious, which you knew was a reason for you to return some other time. Just not with the person you were seated in front of now.

Kamil Everett was a good-looking guy. Slightly older than you, but not enough to doubt his reasons for being into you. He had the perfect jaw structure, covered in the perfect amount of neatly trimmed stubble. He had nice, white teeth, not the kind that you could tell was fake. He wore a cologne that was strong enough to notice, but not overpowering enough to bother you. He’d put effort into his hair and outfit, and he asked questions that showed interest but weren’t too invasive. He was perfect. Again, just perfect.

Still, the little devil on your shoulder nagged at you that this wasn’t what you were looking for. That something was missing, something neither Kamil nor the restaurant could give you.

You jumped in your seat when a pocket-sized Penelope with pink wings suddenly popped onto your right shoulder. Fuck, you’d been drinking too much.

“I am sick of this! Truly!” Penelope’s chipmunk voice peeped right into your ear.

“How many times have you come to me, saying, ‘Oh Penelope, someone has put a curse on me. There are no cute guys anywhere. The universe hates me’, and look at you now! Perfect guy, right over there!” Her small finger pointed at Kamil, and you pulled a sour face.

Angel Penelope responded by shaking her head in disapproval. “I will never hear you complain again. Now make sure to turn the poor thing down nicely and send him over to my place so I can give him some love.”

You chuckled at her comment.

“Are you okay?”

You choked on your red wine as Kamil spoke up. Devil you and Angel Penelope disappeared from your shoulders in a cloud of smoke. You coughed a couple of times before nodding, “Yeah, I am so fine.”

You looked at Kamil, seeing the genuine concern in his brown eyes. You knew you couldn’t continue keeping him on like that. “Actually, I think this is not going to work.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean us,” you answered, pointing your finger between the two of you. “You’re a great guy. I just don’t feel… the spark.”

He scoffed under his breath, immediately standing up and pushing his chair back to the table. You grabbed his wrist as he tried walking off.

“I swear, you’re great! I’m the problem. It’s always me, actually.”

Kamil didn’t get soothed by your words, pulling his arm free out of your grasp and turning his back to you, walking toward the exit.

“I have a great friend!” you yelled after him. “She’s an angel. Literally!” He kept walking, ignoring your pleas.

“I could send you her address! Kamil!”

“Ma’am, please tone it down or I’ll have to call security.”

You looked up to find a stern-looking woman standing in front of your table. When you looked around, all the couples at the surrounding tables were staring at you. You offered them a tight-lipped smile and mouthed a small sorry.

Once the critiquing whispers calmed down, you grabbed your phone from out of your purse, finding Spencer in your emergency contacts as you clicked on the call button.

“Hey, how are you-”

You shushed him. “I’m in a restaurant, whisper, or they’ll kick me out.”

Spencer listened and lowered his voice. “The new one downtown? I’ve been meaning to go there.”

“Well, consider today your lucky day. If you can make it in fifteen minutes, I’ll have dessert ordered for you.”

You chuckled as you heard his keys jingling from the other end of the line. “I’m heading out right now.”

“Good,” you laughed. “I’ll see you then.”

-`♡´-

A sigh of relief escaped you when Spencer walked into the restaurant. He gave you a smile and lifted his hand as he spotted the table you were seated at.

You stood up from your seat, letting out a satisfied groan as he enveloped you in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I can’t wait for ice cream.”

You chuckled, leaning back to see his face.

“You smell nice,” he complimented.

“Oh why, thank you,” you playfully responded, grinning as you both sat down.

Spencer observed the cutlery and half-drunk glass of wine in front of him, raising an eyebrow. “I assume I’m not the first person you offered dessert to.”

“Nope,” you answered, exaggeratedly popping the p. “Was on a date.”

Spencer lifted his eyebrows. “Another one?”

“Hey, don’t judge me! At least I go on dates.”

“Does it count if they all run away before dessert?”

You scoffed a laugh in surprise, not prepared for his burn. “You’re such an ass.”

He cheekily grinned. “What was his name?”

“Kamil,” you deeply sighed, knowing you’ll be getting chills every time you hear that name from now on.

“Did you know Kamil is derived from the Arabic element kāmil? Which means “perfect” or “complete”.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your glass before taking a sip. “Of fucking course.”

You thanked the waiter as he set two neatly made plates of dessert down on the table.

“I thought you gave up on dating,” Spencer wondered out loud, humming as he took his first bite of ice cream.

“I was,” you responded, taking a bite yourself. “Valentine’s an exception, though. I don’t want to be sitting at home by myself.”

“You could’ve asked me to come over. We still haven’t seen all the Star Wars movies,” he responded, commenting on the movie marathon you started last month. Then he pointed his spoon at you, “Well, you haven’t.”

“I know. I just meant spending the day with a lover.”

“I could be your lover.”

Before you knew it, the wine shot out of your mouth, painting your dress and the white tablecloth red.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked in worry, hurrying to your side as you continued coughing.

“Spencer-” you coughed a couple more times, and his arms made their way around your body, your hands reaching out to pull them off. “Spencer, I swear to god,” you sputtered out, “do not perform the Heimlich on me.”

The fact that you were able to talk reassured him enough to loosen his grip around you. Still, he didn’t leave your side.

You looked down to see the inevitable: your dress was ruined.

“Fuck, I loved this dress,” you groaned in annoyance.

“Here, let me-” Spencer grabbed a napkin from the table, turning back to you and tapping your chest dry. His eyes were focused on the low neckline of your dress, and the movements of his hand slowed, as if hypnotized.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he continued tapping the now non-existent wine droplets.

“Can you stop touching my boobs?”

He dropped the napkin like it caught fire.

“I-, I wasn’t-”

“You totally were,” you widely grinned.

“No!”

“Yes, you were. You’ve been staring at my boobs all night.”

Spencer swallowed. His gaze quickly landed on your cleavage before he blinked up at you. “Well, I can’t help it when you’re wearing a dress that’s showing décolletage.”

“Ha! You admitted it.”

A red flush crept up his neck, spreading over his cheeks. “That was a ploy! You were tricking me!”

“Ma’am, this is your last warning; I need you to leave the restaurant now.”

-`♡´-

The moon hung low in the sky, the streets cast in a warm yellow glow of the lampposts. A slight breeze caught your skin as you walked out of the restaurant.

“Well, that was a disaster.”

“You shouldn’t have kept insisting on a doggy bag.” Spencer laughed.

You let out a chuckle, turning to him. “Did you see the look on her face?”

Your comment spurred more laughter from Spencer, making him fall against you in response. You widely grinned and nudged his shoulder, feeling proud of getting him to laugh like that.

“This reminds me of the time when I first joined the team and you asked me to have dinner.” You recalled once your laughter had calmed down, still trying to catch your breath.

The moment felt like yesterday. It was strange to be reminded of the fact that it happened years ago. Spencer had caught your attention the instant you joined the team, which was surprising considering the fact he wasn’t a big talker. Well, he talked most out of everyone, but it always stayed on the case, rarely sharing something personal.

That’s why it surprised you that one day, on the jet after finishing a case, Spencer moved from the couch he usually found himself on to the empty chair opposite you. You remember finding it endearing how nervous he looked as he asked you to have dinner with him in a restaurant downtown.

You’d overheard the several times he asked other team members to join him in activities, whether it was a new food chain opening or a movie screening. You didn’t have the heart to tell him no. Besides that, you were curious to get to know the so-called genius Spencer Reid better. He amazed you again when the dinner turned out to be one of the times you’ve laughed hardest in your life. Since then, you knew Spencer would be at the top of your friend list.

“You seem to have a habit of spitting out your drink.” Spencer mused with a grin.

You returned his smile. “That’s because you seem to have a habit of trying to make me spit out my drink by acting like you’re in love with me.”

Due to your tipsy state, you didn’t notice the way Spencer broke eye contact, the way he nervously tapped his fingers against his pants, and how he seemed to look anywhere but at you.

If it wasn’t for the subtle shudder of your shoulder against his, he might’ve never gained the courage to look you in the face again.

“Are you cold?” He asked considerately, his eyes taking over your form.

You looked down at your outfit, reminded again that you were just wearing a sleeveless dress. “Kind of.”

Without saying another word, Spencer took off his corduroy jacket. He held it open by the sleeves, making it easy for you to slide your arms in. His hand grazed the back of your neck as he tugged the collar up, then pulled your hair out from underneath the material, letting your locks fall over the jacket.

You softly mumbled a thanks, and Spencer responded back with a sweet smile.

“It looks better on you anyway.”

You chuckled, “Such a sweet talker.”

“Just to you,” he replied, a little too fast for his liking as he saw your gaze drop to the ground.

What he wasn’t aware of was the rush of butterflies that soared through you at his words, ambushing you in a way so surprising it made you feel nauseous. Or maybe you were still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

It was ironic how naturally the compliments rolled off of his tongue, how effortlessly romantic gestures came to your friend — actions you longed for in your dates.

Spencer Reid was old-fashioned, a gentleman, sure, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more than just kindness to his acts. If Derek and Penelope were right every time they gave teasing looks when Spencer brought you your favorite coffee, or when he’d made sure the seat next to you on the jet was always occupied by him.

“Are you okay? You seem quiet.” Spencer noted after the two of you had walked in silence for the last couple of minutes.

“Yeah,” you breathed out in a sigh. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

His question slipped in your ears just as easily as it went out, as your attention was taken by the neon gelato sign across the street. The brightly colored flavors stood on display, a harsh white light shining down on it, luring you like a moth to a flame.

“Gelato.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed, but before he could make sense of your answer, you took a leap, crossing the street as if invincible to any vehicle that was speeding on the road.

“What are you doing?!” Spencer yelped in panic, eyes flicking over the road before sprinting after you, ignoring the honking cars.

His warm hand caught yours, and in a hurry, he pulled you onto the sidewalk, spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the brick wall, Spencer hovering over you as he caught his breath.

He blinked at you in disbelief, jaw tense, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“We’re all mad here,” you dramatically quote, pointing to yourself, “I’m mad,” and then placing your hand on his chest, “you’re mad.”

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” he mumbled.

You nodded your head, a wide grin displayed on your face.

“So… gelato?” you asked, wiggling your brows.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh. “You just had ice cream.”

“Actually, I just had half an ice cream before they kicked us out. And it is not to be compared to gelato. You should know that.”

“Well, gelato does have a lower milk fat content. It usually varies between 4 to 9%, whereas ice cream has to have at least 10% of milk fat. The vast majority of brands have an even larger percentage, some even going up to 25%. Actually, now that you mention it, there are a lot more differences between American ice cream and gelato, for example, the use of eggs-”

You hummed in response as you took his hand in yours, letting him continue his ramblings as you guided him into the parlor.

-`♡´-

Your feet were dangling off the high chair you were sitting on as you licked the red plastic spoon clean that came with your dessert.

“I haven’t properly thanked you for helping me earlier. You really are my Valentines savior.”

Spencer smiled, pulling a lock of hair behind his ear. “I didn’t mind. You can always call me.”

“I know,” you replied just as honestly. “I wish it could be as easy as this with others. I wish I could just date you.”

A flush crept onto his neck, red skin showing on his chest where his top buttons were unbuttoned. “Why-” he hesitated before continuing, “Why can’t you?”

“Why can’t I what?” you asked back in oblivion, scooping another spoonful of gelato.

His fingers fidgeted with his spoon, his gaze nervously fixed on his empty cup as he spoke the next words: “Date me.”

Oh.

The longer you remained silent, the thicker the tension grew in the air. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any thoughts; hell, your mind was full of them. Your earlier theories flashed through your mind again, now getting the confirmation that all his attempts to be close to you meant more than solely friendship. How he had indeed tried telling you about his feelings all this time, and how you’d been blatantly oblivious. How you kept telling him about going on dates with other people while he was pining over you. There were too many thoughts to articulate, to even make sense of.

“Please say something,” his voice cracked in a soft beg, his eyes twinkling with hope, or maybe an emotion closer to desperation.

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

The spark in his eyes flickered out. Spencer mouthed okay while giving you an awkward, tight-lipped smile, his hands finding their way into the pockets of his pants.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he said to you, “Let me walk you home.”

-`♡´-

People always say fresh air is the answer to everything. Feeling sick as a dog? Go outside! Feeling depressed? Go outside! On the verge of a nervous breakdown? Go outside! Turns out whoever invented going on long walks had a point.

Your mind cleared with every step you took. Your initial anxieties around Spencer’s words fade around you in a blur. Slowly coming to peace with his feelings and your own.

Dating your best friend could work.

Spencer, on the opposite, felt more tense after each second that passed in silence. It wasn’t that he regretted being honest with you; the weight of his love for you was overwhelming. It was inevitable that there’d come a time where he’d spill his thoughts. However, he shouldn’t have done it like this, with you not even sober enough to understand the gravity of his words.

So, when you rounded the corner of the street and he spotted your house, which was all too familiar to him, he knew he had to retract his confession.

“I shouldn’t have said that earlier. I just… like you. A lot.” He rubbed his forearms, either in a nervous habit or because the cold was getting to him. “And I thought you felt the same, but I’m aware that it’s irrational because, well, you go on dates. And you go on dates with people you like and-“

“Spencer,” you interrupted, having to catch his eyes to get him to focus.

“I know it was inappropriate to confess that I’m in love with you when you’re not even sober. Alcohol interferes with the communication pathways of the brain, so this might be the worst moment possible to admit to something like this.”

“You’re in love with me?”

This caught Spencer’s attention. He focused on you with a puzzled look. “Well, technically I asked you why you wouldn’t want to date me, but I-”

The words died on his tongue the second your lips found his. It felt like you finally got the confirmation you’d always longed for. Someone that knew you inside out, who understood you, and who wasn’t afraid of showing you.

Spencer’s mind was spinning. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air before he settled them on your cheeks, holding you as if afraid you’d disappear.

It was only after a couple of seconds that his IQ regained from 60 to 187, using his hands to gently pull you back from his lips.

His lips remained slightly parted, pink and swollen from the kiss, and his eyes narrowed in overwhelming confusion. “What was that for?”

“That was to show you that I love you too.”

“You can’t just say something like that.”

“But I mean it, Spence,” you stated in confidence. “I was stupid for not seeing it before. For some reason, it felt like you and I were impossible. The thought never occurred to me that we could date. We’ve been friends for so long. But you’re the only one who actually cares, the only one who stays, and I see that now.”

His eyes watered at the creaking of your voice, but he blinked the upcoming tears away. He took a deep breath. Selfishly, he didn’t want to say the next words, satisfied living in the delusion that you loved him back, but he knew he had to stay objective.

“Alcohol consumption also heightens emotions.”

“I know what I’m feeling, Spencer,” you assured. “I’ve just… I’ve been afraid of you leaving me as well, of seeing me as not lovable enough, that I didn’t even consider it a possibility.”

You let out a small self-deprecating laugh, making his heart ache.

“Just give me another chance, please. I will not be so oblivious this time,” you spoke, the corner of your mouth slightly lifted.

His expression mirrored yours, and he gently grasped your hands, his thumbs running over them to bring you comfort. “Can you call me tomorrow?”

You looked up at him.

“If, uh, you still feel the same when you’re sober, we could talk about it.”

There was nothing you were more certain of at that moment. Still, you nodded.

-`♡´-

The buzzing of his phone on the nightstand was enough for Spencer to wake up with a pounding headache. His mind had worked overtime yesterday, rolling in bed in anxiety, waking up every fifteen minutes, and now he was experiencing the physical side effects of it.

“Hello?” he answered, pressing the device against his ear, too sleepy to have checked who called.

“Spencer?”

At the sound of your voice, he sat straight up in bed, his back leaning against the wooden headboard.

He cleared his throat. “H-hi, yes, it’s me.”

There was no pause on the other end of the line, your words determined. “I still love you.”

He leaned forward, pressing the phone closer to his ear, in an attempt to absorb your words.

“I’m really happy to hear that.” His fingertips skimmed along his jawline, in need of proof that he was awake, that this was actually happening. “I love you too. Still. Right now. Always, probably.”

You chuckled at his nervous rambling, hearing him breathlessly laugh in reply.

“Good. Because I don’t want to waste any more time second-guessing.”

“You shouldn’t worry. You won’t be able to get rid of me. I won’t leave you.”

He meant the words in a light, joking manner, but still your heart happily pounded at the sentence.

“Neither will I.”

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neferaskingdom · 2 days ago

Text

Valentine Hotline | LN4

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Running a Valentine’s hotline was supposed to be fun—until she accidentally helps Bob plan the perfect date… for herself.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

The last thing she expected to be doing this Valentine’s Day was running an anonymous emergency hotline for lovesick fools, but here she was—headset on, taking call after call, all in the name of charity. Her best friend had roped her into this, promising it would be “fun,” but so far, all she had done was talk panicked men out of buying last-minute gas station flowers.

Her latest call came in with a hesitant, almost nervous greeting. “Uh… hi. Is this Cupid?”

“That’s me,” she said, suppressing a laugh at the ridiculous alias she’d been assigned. “How can I help you, caller?”

There was a pause before he mumbled, “I need help asking out my crush.”

She smiled, already endeared. “Of course! What’s your name?”

A beat of silence, then—“Bob.”

She snorted. “Bob, huh? Okay, Bob, tell me about your crush.”

Bob sighed dreamily, and when he spoke again, it was with a kind of reverence that made her heart melt. “She’s amazing. Like, so cute, but not in a way that she even realizes. And she’s really smart—like, she remembers the smallest details about people, and she’s kind, too. Like, the kind of kind where she doesn’t even think twice about it, she just does things that make life easier for everyone around her. And she’s so funny, sometimes without even trying. I mean, she makes me laugh over the dumbest things. And—God, she’s way out of my league, but I really, really like her. It’s ridiculous how much I like her.”

Her heart melted. “That’s adorable. Have you spoken to her before?”

“Sort of,” he admitted. “We work together, but I don’t talk to her a lot because… well, I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid. I get irrationally shy around her.”

That piqued her curiosity. “Coworker, huh? What do you guys do?”

“I can’t say too much, or it’ll be obvious who I am,” Bob said quickly.

She nodded, intrigued but respecting his anonymity. “Alright, Bob. First things first, you need to start interacting with her more—test the waters, see how she reacts to you. Start flirting a little.”

“Oh God.”

She laughed. “Relax! I’ll help you. We’ll come up with a plan.”

And so, over the next few days, she helped Bob craft the perfect approach. They planned small conversations, little ways for him to test the waters—compliments, inside jokes, light teasing. He seemed enthusiastic yet nervous, but she assured him he was doing great.

Strangely, around the same time, Lando Norris—someone who had never gone out of his way to talk to her before—started showing up more often. He’d stop by her desk with a cheeky grin, making flirty comments that left her flushed. At first, she chalked it up to him just being friendly, but it kept happening.

“Looking good today,” Lando said one afternoon, leaning casually against her desk.

She rolled her eyes but felt her face warm. “Are you just going around giving out compliments to everyone?”

“Only to the pretty ones.” He winked, and she nearly choked on her coffee.

It was weird. But she couldn’t say she hated it.

A few days before Valentine’s Day, she was finishing up some work when Lando hovered nearby, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He shifted from foot to foot before finally clearing his throat.

“Hey, um… can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She turned in her chair, surprised by his serious tone. “Sure, what’s up?”

He exhaled, looking at the floor before meeting her eyes. “I… uh, was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. Like, on a date. For Valentine’s Day.”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment. “Wait. You’re asking me out?”

Lando winced. “I mean, yeah? But you don’t have to say yes, obviously, I just thought—”

She cut him off with a grin. “Lando, I’d love to.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” she laughed.

The relief on his face was almost comical. “Oh. Oh, cool! That’s great. Okay, um, yeah, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He left looking a little dazed but incredibly happy, and she couldn't help but smile to herself.

That night, Bob called her one last time.

“She said yes!” he practically shouted through the phone. “I asked her out, and she said yes!”

She grinned, heart swelling with pride. “Bob! That’s amazing! I told you she’d like you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Seriously, if—no, when—we get married, you’re getting an invite.”

She laughed. “I’ll hold you to that. Have fun on your date, Bob.”

“Thanks, Cupid. You’re the best.”

And with that, her hotline duties were done.

The next evening, she met Lando for their date, dressed in a pretty outfit and buzzing with anticipation. He looked a little nervous, which was unusual for him, but she found it endearing. The restaurant was charming, the table setup romantic—candles, her favorite flowers, the works.

She took one look at it all and hesitated. The setup felt oddly familiar. Too familiar.

The restaurant. The flowers. The exact order of events.

Her stomach flipped as a ridiculous but nagging thought entered her mind. She looked at Lando, who was focused on cutting his steak, completely unaware of her staring.

“This is going to sound weird,” she began slowly, watching his reaction, “but do you know someone named Bob?”

Lando’s knife froze mid-slice. His head snapped up so fast she thought he might get whiplash. “W-what?”

She gaped at him. “Oh my God. You’re Bob, aren’t you??”

Lando opened and closed his mouth like a fish, looking utterly horrified. “H-how do you—how do you know that?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Because I’m Cupid.”

Lando choked on his water, coughing as his eyes widened in horror. “No. No way.”

“Yes way,” she said, grinning at his absolute mortification. “I can’t believe I spent days coaching you on how to flirt with me.”

Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my God. I’m never living this down.”

She reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “Lando.”

He peeked at her between his fingers. “Yeah?”

She smiled softly. “So… all those sweet things you said about your crush… they were actually about me?”

Lando groaned again, face going bright red. “I—uh—maybe?”

She felt her heart flutter, warmth spreading through her chest. “That’s honestly the sweetest thing ever.”

Lando let out a breath, rubbing his temples. “You must think I’m such a loser. Calling a hotline of all things just to figure out how to ask you out.”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand. “No. I think it’s endearing. You went out of your way to make sure you got it right. You wanted it to be perfect. That’s really, really sweet.”

He looked at her, expression softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Their dinner was filled with laughter and easy conversation, and by the time he walked her to her door, she felt lighter than ever. He hesitated on her porch, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So, uh… goodnight?”

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer. “Goodnight, Bob.”

Before he could groan again, she kissed him, soft and sweet, smiling against his lips as he melted into it. When she pulled away, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Best Valentine’s Day ever,” he murmured.

She laughed. “Yeah. I think so too.”

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thechaoticcherub · 2 days ago

Note

hi!! if you’re interested , i’m currently obsessed with old man joel on viagra fics and feel like you could make it art

may i please request old man joel w a little blue pill and overstim 🙏

thank u ur amazing mwah

thanks for the request! sorry it took a while!

Little Blue

Pairing: Old!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Joel takes a little blue pill and starts to notice all the little blue things.

Warnings: 18+ please, AU no cordyceps, viagra, unprotected p in v sex, overstimulation, INTENSE overstimulation, pet names, pussy pronouns, spanking, hair grabbing, a little bit of humiliation, BIG age gap(56 and 19)

Word Count: 2.1k

Wanna read something specific for Joel Miller? Send me a request!!

There was something ridiculously beautiful about being as needy as you had been recently. You constantly were dropping to your knees in front of Joel, running your fingers up and down his thick thighs. You would fiddle with his zipper while you looked up at him, innocently needing him. You had been begging for Joel’s cock Every. Single. Day. and Joel was struggling to keep up. It was a lovely problem to have, Joel wasn’t going to complain about having a gorgeous nineteen year old on your knees in front of him, asking to suck him off.

But at fifty-six years old, Joel wasn’t as spry as he used to be but he wanted to be ready to give you what you needed as much as he could. Today had been especially difficult for him, you wore a a little blue bow in your hair and ran your fingers up and down his thigh under the table while you ate dinner together. He knew exactly what you wanted, you weren’t exactly subtle. Joel reached down and took your fingers, he squeezed them and then pushed your hand away, trying to not feel bad about the sad look on your face, but Joel wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep up tonight considering that morning you had insisted on sucking his cock.

He brought your fingers up to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

“Don’t you like the way I rub your leg, Joel?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, the little blue bow in your hair bobbing. Joel let out a huff,

“I do, babygirl. I just-you know i’m an old man,” He admitted, feeling a little bad that he had to admit that. You bit your lip, looking up at him,

“I like that about you,” You giggled and he smiled,

“I know, but I aint…I ain’t able to give ya all ya need sometimes,” He said regretfully. You pursed your lips and sighed,

“I am a little needy,” You mumbled, looking down in your lap, feeling a little guilty that you had been begging for his cock so often. Joel hated that he had to reject you but he wasn’t sure he was able to give you the hard fucking you deserved. That was when he remembered a specific pill bottle in his medicine cabinet. He had never felt like he needed them but then his doctor found out he had started dating again so he let him write a prescription for him. Now the pills were sitting in his medicine cabinet just waiting for a moment like this.

“it’s okay, babe, if you clear the table I’ll do the dishes in a second,” He said. You nodded, leaned over, kissed him and then got up. Joel went into the bathroom, you had a blue bra hanging on the back of the door. He absentmindedly ran his fingers over it while he shut the door. He went to the cabinet, opening it and wondering if he was really about to do this. He felt a little humiliated but then he remembered the way your fingers had felt on his thigh, and how you always looked up at him when you were on your knees in front of him. That was enough to spur him on to take out the medicine bottle, tap out a little blue pill and throw it back.

Joel went back into the kitchen then and worked on the dishes, taking his time and listening to you in the living room, you had the TV on and he imagined the way you looked lying on the couch. By the time he was done it had been almost a half hour and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the bra on the back the door of the bathroom your hand on his thigh and how much you had needed him recently. He went into the living room and saw you, lying on your stomach on the couch, facing away from him, looking at a magazine and only half paying attention to the television that was on.

The little blue bow in your hair shifted as he you shook our your hair, and Joel noticed with a jolt just below where his belt buckle dug into his belly, that you had matched the bow in your hair to your little undies. They were peaking out from underneath your short skirt. Fuck. You were naughty. It was like everything you did was designed to try and turn him on. You needed it so much that you matched your hair accessories to your undies and left bras out in the bathroom to constantly remind him that you were wet, horny, needy.

Joel walked over to the couch and reached down and rubbed your lower back, his hand traveling down to your ass and squeezing.

“Oh hi,” You said innocently, glancing back. Joel swept his hand up over your ass, brushing your skirt up. You giggled and wiggled your ass.

Joel grabbed the waistband of your undies and tugged up, causing the little blue undies to slip between your ass cheeks. You lifted your hips up, pressing your knees into the couch. “atta girl, show off your sweet ass,” Joel said as he moved behind you more, looking down at your undies tightening over your already slightly swollen pussy lips. You glanced over your shoulder at him and he smiled a devilish smile, his finger trailing down from the curve of your ass to your clothed sex. “Ya been so needy recently, haven’t ya, darlin?” He asked as he stroked your lips up and down, his other hand tightening on the underwear he was holding in a tight wedgie. You let out a little moan,

“Oh! Yes…yes. I just want your cock.” You sighed, pressing your hips back towards his fingers.

“Mhm, you’re a filthy girl, aint ya?” He asked with a laugh. He could feel his cock hardening in his pants, he made a point to thank the little blue pill gods for the help. You nodded. “Say it back to me,” Joel commanded.

“I’m a filthy girl, Joel,” you moaned. Joel released your undies to smack your asscheek, hard.

“That’s right,” he growled. “Always tryin’ to get my cock. Always suckin’ me dry and still needing more.” Joel put his knee down on the couch behind you. His fingers rubbed over your underwear, feeling them getting wetter, the more he rubbed. You nodded. “Use your words, babygirl, ya need this cock to make ya feel good, don’t ya?” He asked.

“Yes! Joel! I need your cock,” You whined. Joel unbuckled his belt and started to pull his pants down, needing to release his already throbbing cock. When he managed to get his pants and underwear down, you were shoving yourself back into him, practically begging for it to be fucked into you. Joel’s big hand came down hard against your ass again, making you yelp.

“I’ll give ya whatcha need, darlin’. Pull your underwear down.” He reached down and started to stroke his cock in his hand, up and down. You reached back and tucked your thumbs into your undies and started to pull them down, Joel watched as your little blue undies slipped out of your ass and then down, showing off your puffy, excited, wet pussy lips. Joel let out a little moan, his hand still rubbing over his impossibly hard dick.

“That’s righ’, little girl, show her off to me. I wanna watch myself fuck into her,” He groaned and then you got your undies all the way down, they fell to your knees. “Spread yourself out for me, I wanna see her open up.” The filthy words that were spilling out of Joel’s mouth made your cunt clench on nothing. You couldn’t believe he was up for another round after that morning when he spilled his load all over your face. You reached back farther, your face pressing into the cushion of the couch as you pulled your asscheeks apart, making your pussy open for his prying eyes.

Joel couldn’t wait any longer, her cunt was glistening with wetness and opening in such a pretty way. He notched himself against your hole, “You keep her open for me, naughty girl, you’re going to take all of him in that pretty cunt.” He said.

“Yes! Please!” You moaned and then you felt his cock plunge into you all the way. It felt like you were being split in two in the best possible way. “Oh fuck,” You moaned, still holding yourself open while Joel fucked his stiff manhood into you. Joel marveled at the way you accepted him into your hole. He could see your cunt gripping him as he pushed himself deep inside of you and then pulled back. Every time he tugged back, you babbled about needing him more and more.

Joel leaned over your back, his front pressed into you and he grabbed the hair on the back of your head, right below the little blue bow tied into your hair. He pulled you up, so you were sitting up on your knees, pressed back into him. He worked his hips up into you, feeling you tighten around him. One of Joel’s hands stayed in your hair, the other wrapped around your front and his fingers found your clit, tracing his finger over it. You moaned,

“Joel! I’m going to come if you-“

“Good,” He growled. “You’re so filthy and horny, you’re going to come over and over for me.” He growled into your ear. You whimpered and you could feel your orgasm take over you suddenly, it was like the second he had added his finger swirling around your clit you had been plunged into such intense pleasure that you couldn’t hold off. You shook against him moaning and rutting yourself back into him. As you came down, Joel didn’t stop. His finger kept swirling around your swollen clitoris as he pumped his hips into you, his big cock slamming against your cervix over and over.

Your cunt contracted as he forced himself inside of you. Your body was shaking with the pleasure and you squirmed, trying to get away from the intensity of it.

“I-I can’t…! Joel! I- Oh god!” You sobbed out as he pinched your clit, massaging you through the overstimulation.

“You’re goin’ to take it, darlin’, you’ve been needin’ it so bad and your old man is goin’ to give it to ya until ya can’t take it anymore,” He growled into your cheek. Joel could feel the soft silk of your little blue hair bow against his fingers as he held your hair. Your clit was so swollen and over used that he could easily pinch it and stroke it while he fucked his hips up into you. His own orgasm was close but thanks to his own little blue something, he was still rock hard inside of you. Your legs were shaking and the next orgasm was going to be one that burned through you, it felt like it would destroy you. You weren’t sure you would be able to handle it,

“I can’t, I can’t! I can’t! Joel! I’m…it’s hurting! Oh please! Please!” It was burning and aching and the orgasm was being ripped form you and despite the hurt form overstimulation, you needed the orgasm to overtake you.

“That’s right, lil girl, you fuckin’ come again.” He growled into your air, he bit down on your neck and you cried out while your orgasm seemed to rip through you.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” you were struggling to breathe as Joel stroked your clit through your next orgasm but he still didn’t stop, stroking you over and over while his hips beat their unforgiving pattern against you. He wanted to stroke your overstimulated clit through his own orgasm. You were fucked dumb and moaning weakly as he pumped himself deeper and deeper into you.

“That’s my girl, that’s my filthy girl, fuck! I’m goin’ to come all over your insides,” Joel released your hair and his fingers on your clit as his own orgasm burst over him. You collapsed forward onto the couch, shaking, shuddering and sobbing while he fucked himself into you through his own orgasm. When he pulled out, he watched his own creamy spend start to leak out of your abused hole. His finger stroked down against your hole, pushing his come back inside of you. You moaned weakly as he replaced your little blue undies over your pulsing cunt.

“You fulfilled yet, darlin?” he asked. You moaned into the couch cushions. He stroked down your back and into your hair, his fingers twisting around the little blue ribbon in your hair. “Pretty girl, you just needed a little extra, didnt ya?” He smirked. You nodded weakly and Joel resolved to take that little blue pill more often.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #writing #joel miller headcanons #joel snippets

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fawnhart · 2 days ago

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rafe getting sugar a puppy ! ㅤ⭑๋ ࣭

It’s been a month since you showed up in Fawnridge with Rafe.

the last you heard about Outer Banks, was that your parents were making a scene at the police station, crying and carrying on like you’d been kidnapped. the cops just shook their heads, probably sick of hearing it.

You were an adult.

You left on your own.

Case closed.

Of course, that didn’t stop the rumors.

Mrs. Maggie, queen of town gossip, though she was always a nice soul to you, she sure had a lot to say about it over at the annual neighborhood picnic.

“I’m tellin’ you, her mama was screamin’ about demons takin’ her baby. Said God told her she needed to be ‘cleansed.’” She said stuffing her mouth with another chocolate covered strawberries “If you ask me, that girl was smart to run.”

“Oh, bless her heart, I woulda’ done the same” Mrs Dolores had sighed “You think she’s safe livin’ with Rafe though? That boy’s got a past.” The twiggy old lady said while sipping on her pink lemonade

Mrs. Maggie just huffed “Well peter tells me he saw them that night but y’know that son of a guns got bad eyesight, so who knows….Anyways, Past or not, at least he ain’t trying to drag her back to a bunch of crazies!.” she whispered harshly

That’s the story people have settled on. You ran away because your parents lost their minds. Maybe they’re right. Maybe they’re wrong.

Either way, you’re here, and you’re not going back.

⭑.๋ ࣭

The day he brought home the puppy, you nearly had a heart attack.

You had been curled up on the worn-out couch, half-asleep, wrapped in one of the blankets Rafe had let you steal from his room. The breeze from the wind drifted through the open window, mixing with the scent of the blueberry and vanilla candle you had bought and the faintest trace of his cologne. It was peaceful until the door swung open, and in walked Rafe, looking way too smug for your liking, a tiny cream colored ball of fluff cradled in his arms.

“What do you think?” He said grinning, his nose bridge and cheekbone stained with a streak of soot. He’s probably supposed to be at the fire station right now.

You sat up immediately, blinking at him in disbelief "What is that?"

He raised an eyebrow, like the answer was obvious "A dog."

"A dog?" you repeated, as if he’d just walked in with a live grenade. "Are you serious?"

He sighed, stepping further into the apartment, the puppy’s tiny tail wagging excitedly "Dead serious." He set the puppy down on the floor, and it stumbled a little before trotting toward you, pink tongue peeking out as it sniffed your leg.

You stared at it, it was a long haired dachshund, your heart betraying you with how fast it was beating. It was stupidly cute. Fluffy beige fur, big brown eyes, floppy ears that didn’t quite match its tiny body. It looked up at you like it had already decided you were its person.

You glanced up at Rafe suspiciously. "This some kind of trick?"

His jaw propped open, like the question actually offended him "What? No. This little man was stuck in a pipe down by the fish shop. The fire chief let me keep him"

"I thought you said the landlord has a strict ‘no pet’ rule" You said confused

“We just wont tell him" he said simply, shoving his hands in his pockets. His voice was even, but there was something underneath it—he was nervous "The company might be good."

You looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. The puppy whined, pawing at your leg, and you hesitantly reached down, letting it sniff your fingers before gently running your hand over its soft fur.

"We don’t have to keep him," Rafe added quickly, like he was preparing for you to refuse. "But I thought you might want-"

"I’ll keep him," you blurted, surprising even yourself. You could feel him staring at you, but you kept your eyes on the puppy, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "But if he pees on my bed, he’s heading straight to your room"

Rafe snorted "He’s, like, two pounds. Relax."

You shot him a glare, but it didn’t have much bite "What’s his name?"

He shrugged "Didn’t name him yet. Figured you should."

You looked back down at the tiny creature in your lap, watching as he curled up like he already knew he belonged there. A small smile tugged at your lips before you mumbled, "Chip."

Rafe tilted his head "Chip?"

"Yeah," you said, lifting your chin stubbornly. "Like a chocolate chip"

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head "Alright, Chip it is."

⭑.๋ ࣭

Two days later, you were dragging Rafe into the tiny pet shop on Main Street, determined to give Chip the absolute best life possible.

"This is ridiculous," Rafe muttered as you practically bounced toward the dog sweater section, Chip peeking out from the tote bag slung over your shoulder "The dog is fine."

"Ugh! You’re ridiculous," you shot back, flipping through the tiny sweaters with laser focus. "He needs a wardrobe"

Rafe exhaled sharply, crossing his arms as he stood behind you like a grumpy bodyguard.

The store was small, shelves stacked high with treats and toys, the scent of kibble lingering in the air. A couple of older ladies near the checkout counter kept sneaking glances at the two of you, whispering behind their hands.

You could already hear the town gossip forming.

"That’s Rafe Cameron"

"She’s the girl sleeping with him, right?"

"Are they…?"

You rolled your eyes, pretending not to hear them, while Rafe just ignored them completely. He was good at that.

"Okay, what about this one?" You held up a tiny baby blue sweater, pressing it against Chip’s fluffy body. He yawned, completely uninterested, his puppy breath hitting you, but you grinned "You look so handsome."

Rafe made a face "It’s a dog, Sugar, not a toddler."

You scowled "First of all, his name is Chip. Second of all, you’re just mad because he’s cuter than you."

Rafe scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk "Whatever. Just hurry up, can’t believe I’m spending my break buying dog clothes." He muttered

You ignored him, dropping the sweater into the cart before moving on to the treat aisle. You were hyper-focused, scanning the options like it was life or death, while Rafe leaned against the cart, looking deeply uninterested but still following you anyway.

By the time you reached the checkout, your cart was full. Dog food, a fluffy white dog bed, the sweater, a tiny heart-shaped tag with Chip’s name engraved on it. The cashier, a girl around rafes age with a curly blonde bob, raised an eyebrow as she rang you up.

"Didn’t know you were into the whole ‘happy family’ thing, Rafey" she said, voice dripping with something you didn’t like.

Rafe’s expression didn’t change, but you felt him shift behind you, his presence solid and unwavering "Just get the total, Kelsey."

Her eyes flicked to you, her lips pressing into a tight line "That’ll be ninety-four fifty."

Rafe handed over the cash before you could argue, and as you gathered your bags, Kelsey leaned in slightly "Guess you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, huh?"

You narrowed your eyes "I guess you don’t know what you’re talking about, huh?"

Her mouth opened slightly, but you didn’t give her the chance to say anything else. You turned on your heel, brushing past Rafe as you headed for the door.

Outside, the air was warm, the smell of smoke and fried food drifting from the food shacks down the street. You walked a few steps ahead of him before finally grumbling, "that girl sucks" you said tugging your little blue dress down

Rafe chuckled, falling into step beside you "Jealousy looks ugly on you"

You shot him a look "Jealous of what? Her?"

He didn’t answer right away, just kept walking, hands stuffed in his pockets "I don’t know," he said after a beat "You tell me."

You frowned, but before you could respond, Chip let out a tiny yawn from inside the tote bag, snuggling deeper into the blanket you had tucked inside.

You sighed, shaking your head "I don’t care, you can do whatever you want." You said not sure if you were convincing him or yourself

Rafe smirked, but he didn’t push it "Yeah, alright."

And as the two of you walked back toward the apartment, the sun dipping low over the road, you felt something settle in your chest,

something warm.

#works!⟡࿔*:･ﾟ #sugar!reader ㅤ⭑๋ ࣭#drew starkey #aesthetic #drew starkey imagine #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #obx rafe cameron #obx x reader

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aspenmissing · 1 day ago

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Hi, long time reader, first time requester. I absolutely love your work and I was wondering if you could do an arcane x reader (all the usual suspects and jayvik) for a reader who crochets? I know you’ve done one similar so ignore if it’s too similar. But I could imagine the reader being like “oh Silco likes fish” and then proceeds to crochet every fish he loves to the point that he could open an aquarium. And like she crochets jinx a replica of the bunny that vi showed her or something? 🧡

ꜱᴛɪᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴄᴀɪᴛʟʏɴ | ᴠɪ | ᴄᴀɪᴛᴠɪ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ!! || 7111 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ! ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇᴀʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ, ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɪ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!!! <3 <3

JAYCE

It was a quiet evening in the workshop of Jayce and Y/N's shared apartment. The soft hum of machinery filled the room, and the golden light from the setting sun filtered in through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Jayce was busy at his workbench, bent over a mechanical blueprint, his brow furrowed in concentration. But the calm was disrupted by a familiar sound—an occasional soft clink, the rhythmic pull of yarn, and the occasional sigh of satisfaction from Y/N.

Sitting on the couch nearby, Y/N was engrossed in her latest project, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She had picked up the habit of crocheting a few months ago, inspired by the soft, repetitive motion it provided during her moments of relaxation. But there was another aspect to it—a playful one. She had started crocheting some of Jayce's tools, those pieces he left scattered around the workshop after a long day of tinkering. Wrenches, hammers, gears—nothing was safe from her crochet skills.

She picked up her current creation, a crochet version of Jayce’s trusty wrench, and twirled it between her fingers, admiring her work. It was remarkably accurate, the details as precise as her hands could make them. She couldn't wait to see Jayce’s reaction when he discovered her latest masterpiece.

As Jayce adjusted a mechanism on one of his projects, he reached for a wrench—a tool he had used countless times. His hand paused mid-air. Something was... off. He squinted down at the workbench, narrowing his eyes. The wrench was... soft? He lifted it slowly, inspecting it more closely. It was a crochet version of his tool, down to the smallest details, and all in a delicate blue yarn.

“Mi amor,” he called out, unable to hide the amused confusion in his voice. (My love)

She looked up from her crocheting, an innocent smile curling on her lips. “Yes, dear?”

Jayce held up the crocheted wrench, his brow raised in mock disbelief. “This isn’t my tool.”

Y/N's grin widened. “Oh, but it is. It’s just... softer.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, his heart lightening at the sight of her mischievous expression. “You’ve been crocheting my tools again, haven’t you?”

Her hands paused mid-stitch, and she tilted her head playfully. “Maybe.”

He walked over, holding the crocheted wrench between them. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.”

“Both?” she teased. “I thought I’d make sure you have all your tools, just in case you need a backup for when you can’t find the real ones.”

Jayce leaned in, inspecting the crocheted version more closely. “I’m starting to think I’ll find crochet versions of all my tools from now on.” He gave her a pointed look. “How many of these have you made?”

“Enough to keep you on your toes,” Y/N teased, eyes sparkling with amusement. She loved seeing him so entertained by her little creations, the way his stern engineer’s face softened with each playful surprise.

“You know,” Jayce began, his tone mock-serious, “if I ever lose one of my tools, I’m blaming you.”

Y/N laughed softly, setting down her yarn and walking over to him. “You’d have to admit they’re very well-made.”

“I can’t deny that,” he said, giving the crocheted wrench a squeeze. “But I think I’ll stick to the real ones, if that’s alright.”

Y/N shrugged, her eyes twinkling. “Fair enough, but when you’re in a pinch, you know where to find a spare.”

He smirked and leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “I’ll be sure to ask for a crocheted hammer next time my machinery goes haywire.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the intimate tone, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Only if you promise not to get mad when the next tool is a crochet version of your screwdriver.”

Jayce chuckled, hugging her back. “Deal. As long as it’s soft enough to cushion me when I stub my toe on it.”

Y/N smiled against his chest, feeling the warmth of their quiet evening together. Despite the bustling world of Piltover and the constant work, these small moments with him felt like the most important thing.

And even if her crochet tools never quite replaced the real ones, she wouldn’t stop making them—because making Jayce smile was worth every stitch.

VIKTOR

Viktor sat in his lab, hunched over a workbench as his fingers gently maneuvered a series of delicate mechanical parts. His brow furrowed in concentration as the hum of machinery filled the space, but something else was tugging at the edge of his mind.

It was an unusually quiet evening. Normally, Y/N would be in the corner of the room, working on one of her many projects or crafting something with her hands. Recently, though, he’d noticed her spending more time with a set of yarn and hooks, her soft hums filling the air as she crocheted intricate patterns.

Tonight, however, her crocheting seemed different. He glanced over at her from time to time, watching as her hands moved rhythmically, the yarn twisting and turning into something beautiful. She had started out making small pieces, like scarves and blankets, but recently, her projects had grown more ambitious.

“Viktor, I’m almost done,” Y/N’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see her standing with a mysterious smile, holding up a half-finished piece of crochet in her hands.

“What is it?” he asked, his curiosity piqued, though he could tell she was eager to keep it a secret.

"You'll see soon enough," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "Just trust me, it’s going to be a surprise."

Viktor raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her further, intrigued by her cryptic response. He returned to his workbench, though the quiet hum of the lab now felt different, filled with the anticipation of whatever Y/N was creating.

That night, after Viktor had fallen into a peaceful sleep, Y/N quietly slipped the finished crochet cover over his cane. She smiled softly as she adjusted it, making sure it fit perfectly before stepping back to admire the little surprise she had prepared for him. Satisfied, she tucked the rest of the yarn and her crochet tools away before slipping into bed beside him.

She settled in next to him, her heart light with the thought of how he would react in the morning. It was a small gesture, but she knew it would mean something to him. With that thought, she drifted into sleep, content beside the man she cared for

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, gently waking Viktor. He stretched slowly, feeling the familiar stiffness in his muscles, before reaching for his cane, as he always did to steady himself. But as his hand grasped it, something felt different. He paused, brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

The texture under his fingers wasn’t the usual cold, hard metal. Instead, it was soft, warm, and—he paused again, inspecting it. The delicate crochet cover fit perfectly, its intricate patterns wrapping around the handle in a way that felt almost… personal.

Viktor sat up fully, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked over to Y/N, still fast asleep beside him, a soft smile on her face. Her peaceful expression only deepened his gratitude for the thoughtful surprise she had left him.

Carefully, he tested the cane, pressing down on it as he would have done normally. The crochet softened the grip, adding a layer of comfort to the familiar support. It felt… better, actually. A little extra care that, while subtle, made a difference.

He couldn’t help but laugh softly under his breath, the sound barely a whisper in the quiet room. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

As he leaned back against the bed, still holding the cane in his hand, he couldn’t help but admire the way she had turned a simple gesture into something meaningful.

Viktor sat in the quiet morning, his fingers still gently wrapped around the cane with the soft crochet cover now in place. He marveled at the care Y/N had put into the small, unexpected gesture. His heart warmed as he tested the comfort of the grip, but he didn’t want to disturb her sleep just yet.

Instead, he shifted slightly and reached over to gently caress her cheek with his finger. The light touch was enough to stir her from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and she blinked groggily, the faintest smile curling on her lips as she realized what had woken her.

"Viktor?" she murmured softly, her voice still heavy with sleep.

He smiled warmly, not wanting to startle her but eager to share the surprise. "Good morning," he said gently. "You’ve given me quite the surprise this morning."

Her eyes found the cane in his hand, and she let out a small, contented sigh when she saw the crochet cover now in place. “You found it,” she said, her voice soft and affectionate.

“I did,” Viktor replied, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s perfect, lásko. You didn’t have to, but I’m… very grateful.” (Love)

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows, still sleepy but her eyes shining with happiness. “I’m glad you like it,” she said, a small blush coloring her cheeks. “I thought it might be a little more comfortable for you. It’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not nothing,” Viktor said, his voice sincere. “You’ve made it something special.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she reached out instinctively, her hand brushing against his as she met his gaze. The quiet moment between them spoke volumes, the bond they shared deepening with every simple gesture, every unspoken word.

JAYVIK

It had been a long day at the Academy, and by the time Jayce and Viktor finally made it home, exhaustion clung to them like a second skin. The apartment was quiet—too quiet. Usually, Y/N would be waiting for them, either curled up with a book or busy with one of her countless crochet projects. But tonight, there was no sign of her.

“Maybe she went to bed early,” Viktor mused, rubbing his eyes as they made their way to the bedroom.

Jayce yawned. “She deserves the rest. She’s been working on something big, but she still won’t tell us what it is.”

As they entered the dimly lit bedroom, they saw the familiar silhouette of Y/N lying on the bed, facing away from them. The soft glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting a warm haze over her figure.

Jayce, too tired to question anything, just kicked off his boots and crawled into bed. With a content sigh, he settled behind Y/N, slinging a strong arm over her waist—only for his hand to sink unnaturally deep into her body.

His groggy mind struggled to process the sensation. He frowned and gave a little squeeze, only to feel soft, plush resistance instead of the warm, solid form he was used to.

“…Viktor,” Jayce said slowly, still half-asleep. “Is it normal for someone to feel like… like a pillow when you hug them?”

Viktor, who had been in the middle of sitting down, froze. He blinked at Jayce, then at the oddly still form on the bed. “…What?”

Jayce lifted his hand and let it plop down on Y/N’s back again—only for it to sink in once more. He stared at his hand, then at Viktor, baffled. “I think something’s wrong with Y/N.”

At that exact moment, the bathroom door swung open, and the real Y/N stepped out, towel drying her hair. She took one look at the scene before her—Jayce manhandling a stuffed replica of herself while Viktor stared in horror—and immediately burst into laughter.

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, clutching her stomach. “I can’t believe you just cuddled my crochet doll.”

Viktor blinked rapidly, realization dawning on him. “Wait… you made this?”

Jayce sat up quickly, still holding onto the plush, albeit more cautiously now. “You—you made a whole life-sized version of yourself?”

Y/N grinned proudly. “Took me months! You always asked what I was working on. Surprise!”

Jayce groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “I thought you melted or something.”

Viktor shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are going to give us heart attacks one day, Y/N.”

She only giggled, sauntering over and flopping onto the bed beside them. “Oh, please. If anything, this just means you guys love me so much you didn’t even question it.”

Jayce groaned again, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just… warn us next time before you replace yourself with a stuffed version, okay?”

Y/N smirked. “No promises.”

Jayce sat up again, still holding the plush version of Y/N at arm’s length like it might suddenly come to life. “Okay, but why did you make this?”

Viktor, now warily prodding the doll’s leg with his cane, nodded. “Yes, I am also curious. Of all the things you could crochet… why yourself?”

Y/N flopped down onto the bed beside them, completely unbothered. “Oh, you know… for whenever I’m busy.”

Jayce squinted at her. “Busy with what?”

She smirked. “I dunno. Maybe I don’t feel like attending another ‘Jayce and Viktor argue over blueprints for three hours’ meeting, so I send my stand-in.”

Viktor scoffed. “You think we wouldn’t notice?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Would you?”

The room went silent. Jayce and Viktor exchanged a look.

“…Okay, that’s fair,” Jayce muttered, rubbing his face.

Viktor sighed and shook his head. “I hate that I cannot even argue with that.”

Y/N stretched, grinning. “See? Genius. Now, whenever I have things to do, you two can cuddle my crochet clone instead of complaining that I’m not around.”

Jayce gave the doll a suspicious glance. “You know, it is pretty soft…”

“Absolutely not,” Viktor deadpanned, snatching it away. “You are not replacing Y/N with a stuffed version just because it is ‘pretty soft.’”

Y/N giggled. “Come on, Viktor. Just give it a chance. I worked hard on her!”

Viktor shot her a flat look before shoving the crochet clone into Jayce’s arms. “Fine. You sleep with it.”

Jayce pouted, flopping onto his back with the plush doll. “It’s not the same.”

Y/N smirked, nestling herself between them. “Exactly. You dorks love me too much.”

Viktor rolled his eyes fondly while Jayce sighed dramatically, finally tossing the crochet doll onto the floor. “Fine, fine. Real Y/N is better.”

Y/N snuggled in closer, grinning. “Damn right I am.”

VANDER

Vander had seen a lot in his years—fights, betrayals, losses—but he never thought he'd see someone like you, sitting in the dim glow of the Last Drop with a ball of yarn in your lap, hands deftly moving a small hook through loops and chains like it was second nature.

He didn't quite understand the craft, not at first. "What’re you making this time, love?" he asked one evening, leaning over the counter to get a better look.

You glanced up at him with a soft smile, never pausing in your work. "Something for you. You'll see."

And he did. A few nights later, you handed him a thick, warm scarf—deep brown with a bit of blue threaded in. It wasn't the finest silk or the strongest wool, but it was made by your hands, and that made it better than anything he could buy.

Vander turned it over in his hands, feeling the care woven into each stitch. "You made this for me?"

You raised an eyebrow. "No, I made it for Benzo."

He barked out a laugh and tugged the scarf around his neck. "Feels like a hug," he murmured, pulling you in for a proper one. He held you there for a moment, his chin resting atop your head, the steady thump of his heartbeat against your ear grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

But you didn’t stop with him. The kids got their own gifts, too.

Vi was the first to get hers—a pair of red fingerless gloves, reinforced with a thicker stitch so they'd last through all her roughhousing. She grinned and flexed her fingers, already throwing mock punches. "These are sick! Thanks, Y/N!" she said, practically bouncing on her feet. "Now I can really start training!"

"You better not use those to punch Mylo," you warned, though you knew it was inevitable.

Vi just smirked and ran off, likely to do just that.

Powder, wide-eyed and beaming, received a tiny crocheted rabbit, its mismatched ears flopping over like it had stories to tell. She cradled it like it was the most precious thing in the world, running her fingers over the stitches as if committing them to memory. "I love it!" she whispered, clutching it to her chest. "What's its name?"

"You tell me," you said, watching her think hard before nodding to herself.

"Jinx," she decided, holding the little rabbit up in the air like it was a trophy. "Jinx the bunny!"

Mylo tried to play it cool when you handed him a crocheted hat—green with a small, almost imperceptible 'M' stitched near the brim. "Eh, I guess it's kinda nice," he muttered, but he wore it every day after that. Not that he’d ever admit it, but you caught him adjusting it in the reflection of a grimy window more than once.

Claggor got a scarf like Vander’s, only his was warm gray and yellow. "It’s real cozy," he said, wrapping it around his neck and grinning. "Thanks, Y/N! Now I won’t freeze my ears off when we go out."

Vander watched it all—watched the way their eyes lit up, the way your hands moved so effortlessly, weaving love into every stitch. It wasn’t just fabric. It was a reminder, a small comfort in a place that didn’t often give them softness.

One night, as you sat curled up beside him, working on another project with his scarf still wrapped snugly around his neck, he exhaled deeply and pressed a kiss to your temple.

"You spoil us, you know that?" he murmured, watching your fingers move with practiced ease.

You hummed, leaning into him as your hook twisted through the yarn, forming something new. "Family deserves a little warmth."

Vander tightened his arms around you, his grip firm and steady. "That they do."

And in the cold, unforgiving streets of Zaun, that warmth was everything.

SILCO

Silco was not a man prone to sentimentality. Sentiment got you killed. Sentiment made you weak.

But there were exceptions. And lately, those exceptions took the form of tiny crochet fish multiplying in his office.

The first time he found one, he’d dismissed it as a curiosity. A small blue fish with black beady eyes, sitting neatly on his desk, its little fins slightly uneven. He picked it up between his fingers, the soft yarn foreign against the rough callouses of his hands. He turned it over, inspecting the delicate, precise stitches. The craftsmanship was simple but meticulous, each loop of yarn woven with care.

His gaze flickered to you, where you stood by the window of his office, absently rolling a ball of yarn between your fingers. The dim, golden glow of his desk lamp cast long shadows over your form, your expression unreadable.

“You left this,” he said, holding up the fish between two fingers.

You barely spared him a glance. “Maybe.”

Silco frowned at your evasive answer, but when you offered no explanation, he merely placed the fish aside, letting it rest next to his glass of whiskey. He didn’t think much of it. There were bigger things to worry about.

Yet, the next day, another one appeared.

A deep red fish, its tail slightly curved as if caught mid-swim, sat atop a stack of paperwork.

Then a golden one. A green one. A striped one. A tiny pufferfish with little bobbles for spikes.

Each morning, a new fish awaited him, its small, unassuming presence breaking the monotony of his work. They were left in odd places—perched on the armrest of his chair, nestled between stacks of ledgers, even once balanced atop the rim of his whiskey glass.

At first, he ignored them. He had more pressing matters to attend to—expanding Shimmer production, keeping the Enforcers at bay, maintaining control over Zaun. But as the collection grew, so did an unfamiliar warmth in his chest.

One evening, he finally caught you in the act.

You were seated in his chair, legs tucked beneath you, fingers deftly working a crochet hook as you looped the yarn with practiced ease. The rhythmic motion of your hands was oddly soothing, the soft shhh of the yarn unspooling filling the quiet space.

He lingered in the doorway, watching.

“You’re persistent,” he remarked, stepping further into the room.

You didn’t look up, didn’t even pause in your work. “And you like them.”

He scoffed, though the accusation wasn’t entirely false. His gaze flickered to the ever-growing pile in the corner of his office. He really could open an aquarium at this rate.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he mused, circling his desk.

You finally glanced up at him, arching a brow. “Do you think it’s funny?”

He considered this for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “No.”

There was something disarming about the little gifts, something that unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite place.

You finished the last stitch, pulling the yarn taut before cutting it with a small pair of scissors. A pale lavender fish joined the others in your lap.

Silco reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he took it from you. The yarn was soft, delicate, yet strong. Just like you.

He turned the fish over in his palm before glancing back at you. “Why?” His voice was quieter now, lacking its usual sharp edge.

You studied him for a moment before answering. “Because you deserve something that doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

Silco wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was a man who had clawed his way to power, who had long since abandoned the idea of kindness without expectation. And yet, here you were, offering him something with no strings attached—something soft, something warm, something his.

Slowly, he tucked the fish into the inner pocket of his coat.

“…I suppose I could make space for a few more.”

Your lips curved into a knowing smile as you picked up your yarn once more. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on stopping.”

JINX

The workshop was quiet, save for the rhythmic clicking of Y/N’s crochet hook and the occasional crackle of a distant lamp. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the worktable as she tinkered with a small gadget in her hands. The soft glow of the nearby light bathed her in a warm hue, her blue hair casting long shadows over her face.

Y/N glanced down at her, noting the distant look in Jinx’s eyes. The girl had been quieter than usual, her usual boundless energy dimmed to something… softer.

"Something on your mind, trouble?" Y/N asked, her fingers still working the yarn into careful stitches.

Jinx shrugged, still turning the device in her hands. “Eh, just thinkin’ about stuff.”

Y/N hummed in acknowledgment, giving her the space to continue if she wanted to. She knew Jinx well enough to understand that sometimes, if you just let the silence sit long enough, she'd fill it on her own.

Sure enough, after a beat, Jinx let out a small chuckle. “Y’know… when I was a kid, I had this dumb little rabbit. Stuffed, all floppy, kinda ugly, but—” she grinned, “—he was mine. Had him for as long as I can remember.”

Y/N’s hands stilled for just a second before she resumed her work. “Sounds like he was special.”

Jinx nodded, her eyes flickering with something wistful. “Yeah. Called him ‘Bun-Bun.’ Real original, I know.” She smirked, but it was softer than usual. “Vi used to tease me about it, but I didn’t care. Bun-Bun was there when I had nightmares. When I was scared. When things got bad… I’d just squeeze him tight, and it was like nothing else mattered.”

Y/N felt a familiar ache settle in her chest. She had seen that look on Jinx before—the flicker of a past she clung to, moments she could never get back.

“What happened to him?” she asked gently.

Jinx twirled the screwdriver between her fingers, her smile fading. “Lost him the night everything went to hell.” Her voice was quieter now. “After the explosion, after… Vi left.”

Y/N’s hands paused again, the weight of the words heavy in the air.

Jinx scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s dumb, right? Missin’ some old, raggedy rabbit when I got bigger things to worry about?” She forced a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s not dumb,” Y/N said, her voice firm but warm. “It’s never dumb to miss something that made you feel safe.”

Jinx blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Y/N’s voice. For a second, she just stared, as if trying to figure out whether Y/N was messing with her. But there was no teasing in her face—no judgment, no pity. Just understanding.

Her fingers twitched slightly, gripping the screwdriver in her hand a little tighter. Then, she let out a small, breathy chuckle, her lips quirking up at the edges.

“Hah… Look at you. Always know just what to say, huh?” She smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. Something vulnerable. “Guess that’s why I keep you around.”

Jinx flicked the screwdriver in her hand, spinning it between her fingers before pointing it playfully at Y/N. “Don’t go telling anyone I got a soft spot, though. Ruins my whole scary, unpredictable vibe.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Your secret’s safe with me, trouble.”

Jinx clicked her tongue. “Damn right it is.”

But as she turned back to her gadget, she hesitated, eyes flickering back toward Y/N for just a second. The words felt heavy on her tongue, but eventually, she muttered, just loud enough to be heard—

“…Thanks.”

And though she didn’t look up, Y/N simply smiled, returning to her crochet without a word.

That night, long after Jinx had gone off to do whatever mischief she had planned, Y/N sat in her chair, staring at the soft skeins of yarn in front of her.

Blue. Pink. White.

She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the way Jinx’s face had softened when she talked about her old friend. The way her fingers twitched slightly, as if they still remembered the feeling of worn fabric clutched in her hands.

With a small smile, Y/N picked up her hook and got to work.

The soft click of a door shutting signaled Jinx’s return to her room. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head as she kicked the door shut behind her, only to pause when her eyes landed on her desk.

A small, stuffed rabbit sat there.

Her brows furrowed, hands reaching out hesitantly as if the little thing might vanish if she touched it. It was crocheted, the stitches tight and well-crafted, made with soft blue and pink yarn. The ears flopped slightly, and its button eyes gleamed in the dim light.

It was just like the one she had as a kid. The one she lost a long time ago.

Jinx swallowed, fingers trailing over the soft yarn before she noticed the small note tucked beneath it. She plucked it up, scanning the familiar handwriting.

"I remember you telling me about your old friend. I thought you might like to have them back."

Her breath hitched. She turned the note over, half-expecting more words, but that was it. Simple. No big speech. Just a quiet reminder that someone cared.

Jinx clutched the rabbit to her chest, a rare warmth spreading through her. She flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling with a lopsided grin.

“You really are the best, mama…” she murmured, hugging the little rabbit a bit tighter.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt safe.

It was a quiet evening in Piltover. The soft golden glow of the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. The air was still, save for the rhythmic clinking of crochet hooks against yarn.

Y/N sat in the corner of the living room, her focus entirely on her hands as she worked on her latest project. The soft yarn slipped through her fingers with ease, creating delicate patterns as she twisted and looped it. It was a small scarf for one of the kids in Zaun—a tiny act of kindness she hoped would warm someone’s heart.

Across the room, Vi leaned against the doorframe, watching her. There was something mesmerizing about the way Y/N’s hands moved, like the quiet clicking of gears in a machine that had perfected its craft. Vi had never really paid much attention to crochet before, but watching Y/N do it made her curious, made her appreciate the beauty in the small, slow moments.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Vi commented, crossing her arms and smirking as she stepped into the room. “That’s... uh, not something I expected from you, Y/N.”

Y/N glanced up from her work, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Why? Because I’m not what you'd call ‘delicate’?” she teased, her voice light but warm. The rhythm of her hook didn’t falter as she worked.

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Nah, just didn't picture you as the knitting type. Thought you’d be more of a... I don’t know, warrior or something. But hey, this is kinda cute.”

Y/N laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and fondness. “I’m a lot of things, Vi. Besides, you’d be surprised how calming it is. Crocheting is like... a quiet fight. Every loop and stitch builds something.”

Vi watched as Y/N pulled the yarn through one more time, the edge of the scarf beginning to take shape. The soft colors she used made it feel like a warm embrace. “I can see that. You’re always building something—whether it’s a scarf, or with all that knowledge you’ve got hidden up there,” Vi said, tapping her temple with a playful grin.

Y/N glanced at her with a gentle smirk, her eyes softening. “Just a habit, I guess. I like creating things. It helps me focus. And sometimes, I think... it’s nice to make something for someone else. Something that’ll keep them warm.”

Vi softened at her words, crossing the room to sit next to her. She watched for a few moments, entranced by the way Y/N worked. “You know, if you keep making stuff like that, I might just steal it.”

Y/N looked up, her brow raising slightly in challenge. “Oh? Steal it? What do you mean?”

Vi leaned in, her eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Well, maybe I need something to keep me warm on my next patrol through the streets. You wouldn’t mind, right?”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head, playfully nudging Vi’s shoulder. “You’re not getting this one. But I can make you something special. You know, for when you’re off being the big, tough enforcer.”

Vi grinned, clearly pleased by the offer. “Deal. But it better have some edge to it. I want to look intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, looking up from her crochet. “A scarf that’s intimidating?”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me. I can pull it off.” Vi winked, nudging her again with a grin.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll see what I can do, then.”

The next few days passed in a blur, with Y/N balancing her work at the Academy and her quiet moments crocheting. Between the chaotic pace of life in Piltover and Zaun, she found solace in the rhythm of the yarn slipping through her fingers. As promised, she began work on the scarf for Vi. This time, the design was going to be different—something bold, something that would match Vi’s tough exterior.

Vi had mentioned wanting something intimidating, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she considered what that might look like. The colors were deep and strong, a mix of dark purples and silvers, with sharp geometric patterns woven in that could resemble the angles of sharp steel. It wasn’t a scarf meant for delicate moments—it was a scarf meant for power, for strength.

Vi’s eyes had lit up when Y/N mentioned she was working on it, though she hadn’t given away how eager she was to see the finished product. She couldn’t deny it: she was curious about how Y/N’s delicate craft would turn into something tough enough to match her persona.

Finally, after a couple of evenings spent by the window, Y/N finished the scarf. The design was intricate—just like Vi had asked—but it had the warmth that came from Y/N’s touch, from the care she’d poured into each loop and stitch.

As Y/N held the finished scarf up in front of her, she couldn’t help but be proud of the way it turned out. It looked like it had a bit of fire in it, like it could take on whatever came its way.

Vi was sitting on the couch, her legs stretched out, absently flipping through a magazine when Y/N walked over with the scarf draped in her hands. There was a small grin on Y/N’s face as she held it up.

“Ready for your custom, intimidating scarf, Vi?”

Vi’s head shot up from the magazine, her eyes wide in sudden excitement. “That is what I’m talking about!” She grinned and jumped to her feet, clearly pleased.

Y/N handed the scarf to her with a chuckle. “I made sure it has that edge you wanted. I think it suits you.”

Vi took it in her hands, running her fingers over the cool, smooth texture of the yarn. The deep colors and bold pattern were exactly what she had hoped for—something that felt strong but not overly flashy. It was simple, just like her, but it had a sharpness to it that said don’t mess with me.

Vi wrapped the scarf around her neck with a dramatic flourish, striking a pose in the mirror. She looked at herself, pleased with how it framed her. “This? This is perfect.”

Y/N watched with a soft, fond smile, leaning against the wall. “Glad you like it.”

Vi turned around, tossing Y/N a look of mock seriousness, though the warmth in her eyes betrayed her. “I look like I’m about to start kicking ass, don’t I?”

Y/N snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “You already do. Now you’ve just got the scarf to match the attitude.”

Vi grinned, then reached out to tug Y/N closer. “You know, it’s not just the scarf that’s badass. It’s you, too. Thanks, Y/N.” Her voice was softer now, genuine as she gave Y/N a gentle squeeze.

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the yarn she’d used to create the scarf. “You’re welcome, Vi. You deserve something that keeps you warm—physically and, well, emotionally.”

Vi’s grin softened, her usual tough exterior cracking for just a moment. “Yeah, well... you’ve got me there.” She let out a soft laugh and gave Y/N a playful shove. “But seriously, you’re one of the good ones. I’m glad we’ve got each other.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. For all the chaos and uncertainty in their lives, moments like these—moments of connection and understanding—made it all feel worth it. She gave Vi a quiet nod, her smile deepening.

"Yeah. Me too."

CAITLYN

It had been a long, exhausting day in Piltover. The sun had just begun to set, casting an orange glow across the city. Y/N sat at the small window in her apartment, legs tucked beneath her, a crochet hook in hand, weaving delicate threads into something meaningful. It wasn’t the first time she had spent an evening this way, her hands moving mechanically while her thoughts drifted.

The rhythmic click of the hook and yarn were soothing, and she lost track of time as she focused on her work. Her current project was small, intricate — a delicate flower pattern. It was for Caitlyn.

Caitlyn… The sharp, observant sheriff of Piltover. The woman Y/N had found herself drawn to in unexpected ways. Their interactions had always been tense with a mix of professional respect and an undercurrent of something else that neither of them fully acknowledged, until now.

Y/N's fingers danced over the yarn, the flower slowly taking shape. It was meant to be a small token, a sign of gratitude for Caitlyn’s unwavering support and kindness, especially during the moments Y/N struggled to process her past. Caitlyn had seen through her, past the hardened exterior, and had always been there when she needed her most.

As Y/N finished the final row, the door creaked open. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Caitlyn's presence filled the room, like a quiet storm — strong, confident, but always gentle when it mattered most.

“Evening,” Caitlyn’s voice was soft, but there was a hint of curiosity in it.

Y/N smiled without turning around. “Evening, Caitlyn. How’s everything going?”

“Same as usual, a lot of paperwork and a few too many cases I’d rather not deal with,” Caitlyn replied, her tone light but clearly a bit weary. “What are you working on?”

Y/N finally turned, holding up the finished flower. It was small, but delicate, made with a soft lavender yarn. "I made this for you," she said simply, holding it out.

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed slightly, surprised. "For me?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes softening as she watched Caitlyn. "I figured you might appreciate it. It's a little piece of something for you to keep."

Caitlyn reached out, taking the flower in her hand, her fingers brushing lightly against Y/N's. She stared at the crocheted bloom, a soft smile forming on her lips. "It's beautiful. I… didn’t expect this." Her voice softened, genuine gratitude shining through her words.

Y/N lowered her gaze for a moment, feeling the intensity of Caitlyn's eyes on her. "You’ve done a lot for me. I wanted to show you that I appreciate it."

A long silence passed between them, filled with an unspoken understanding. Caitlyn reached out, gently taking Y/N’s hand in hers, a simple but meaningful gesture. Y/N squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of Caitlyn’s touch.

The flower that Y/N had made now rested between them, a symbol of the quiet bond that had started to form between them — delicate, like the stitches of Y/N’s crochet, but strong enough to weather any storm.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn said quietly, her voice full of sincerity.

Y/N only smiled in return, a deep sense of contentment settling over her. "Anytime."

CAITVI

The apartment was peaceful for the moment, with only the rhythmic clicking of Y/N’s crochet hook filling the space as she worked on her latest project. She was seated on the couch, her fingers moving with precision through the yarn, adding tiny crochet bullets to her growing collection. Each little bullet was delicate, but they all came together perfectly. She worked steadily, glancing up every now and then to watch the playful chaos unfolding in front of her.

Vi, with that signature mischievous grin, was teasing Caitlyn as the two of them sparred with their crocheted weapons: Vi’s gauntlets and Caitlyn’s sniper rifle.

“Come on, Cait,” Vi taunted, pulling her crochet gauntlet back like a fist, “are you really gonna let me win this time?”

Caitlyn, ever the composed one, grinned, aiming the crocheted sniper at Vi with exaggerated seriousness. “You think you can take me down with that?”

Vi dodged dramatically, ducking as Caitlyn mimed firing. “Oh, it’s not about taking you down,” she quipped, “it’s about the fun of trying.”

Y/N chuckled softly to herself, her fingers working deftly to make another small bullet. The yarn was soft under her hands, but it held firm as she shaped it. She continued adding to the tiny collection as the two women bickered playfully in front of her. The crocheted gauntlet Vi wore was perfect, almost like the real thing, while Caitlyn’s sniper rifle was equally impressive, down to the last detail.

“Alright, alright,” Caitlyn chuckled, tossing the crochet sniper over her shoulder. “But I still think I’ve got the edge.”

Vi winked at Y/N, a mischievous glint in her eye. “What do you think, Y/N? Who’s winning?”

Y/N glanced up from her work, her smile lighting up her face as she watched them. “I think you both look ridiculous. But if I had to choose…” She paused, her gaze shifting to Vi. “Vi’s definitely got the upper hand. Caitlyn, you need more practice with your aim.”

Vi raised her gauntleted fists triumphantly, letting out a playful cheer. Caitlyn feigned a dramatic sigh. “I’ll get you next time. Just wait.”

Suddenly, Caitlyn turned back to Vi, aiming the crocheted sniper rifle at her with mock seriousness. She pretended to fire, and Vi exaggerated the fall, clutching her chest as if struck by a powerful blow.

“Nooo!” Vi gasped, dramatically collapsing onto the couch beside Y/N. She let out a playful moan, flopping against her with a wink. “My dying wish… is to kiss Y/N one last time.”

Y/N laughed softly, her heart swelling at the sight of Vi’s playful antics. She leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair from Vi’s face, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Is this how you die every time?” Y/N asked with a smile, her voice filled with affection.

Vi’s grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Only when I’m lucky.”

Caitlyn leaned against the back of the couch, watching the two of them with a fond smile. “Lucky, huh? I think we all are, really.”

Y/N smiled at the two of them, wrapping her arms around both of them as they all settled onto the couch together. She held the tiny crochet bullets in her hands, absently finishing up the last one. The light-hearted energy in the room filled her with warmth.

They had been through so much, but moments like this, full of laughter and love, reminded her of how truly fortunate they all were to have each other.

162 notes · View notes

sinstear · 13 hours ago

Note

I didn’t see a request thing so if you don’t do that please ignore being mean to sub loser vi maybe ignoring her or just cooing at her with fake sympathy

my requests are always open, i just always forget to put it in my pinned <3 BUT YES MEAN READER, MY TIME TO SHINE 🤓🫶🏻 i hope this is what you visioned ...

vi doesn’t know if she wants to scream at you or grumble about the fact you’ve been teasing and edging her for the past 20 minutes. the second she’s close to coming, you stop, withdraw your fingers from her greedy cunt and smirk at her with that insufferable grin she can’t help but adore. “can’t even get off yourself, can you?” you murmured against her sweaty thigh and watched the way her walls fluttered.

“babe, please,” vi cried, fisting the sheets between her hands.

“what? your own fingers can’t reach? can’t make yourself cum so you need me to do it for you? wakin’ me up at stupid hours of the morning because you need to get off?”

her face flushed a bright red at your condescending words, and she knows she should probably be upset or even annoyed at the fact, but instead she just whimpers in desperation and clings to your shoulder with her free hand. “s’not—”

“it’s not? so you didn’t grind your greedy pussy on my thigh this morning, begging me to touch you until you cum?” you scoffed, her clit throbbing under your touch as you brush your thumb over it lightly. “huh, baby? c’mon, made you cum on my cock last night and now you’re too shy to admit you’re a needy slut?”

vi’s eyes are quick to widen when you abruptly push yourself up on the bed, ready to get off, but before you can, she’s reaching out and grabbing your arm. “no, please, just—” she whines, fidgeting under your gaze and biting her bottom lip. “need you to touch me.”

“touch you?” you raised an eyebrow, and looked down at her hand. “i’ve been touching you, baby but m’not sure you’ve been a good girl—”

“i’ll be good! so good for you, but please don’t leave—”

“yeah? gonna be my good girl?” vi whimpers at you but nods quickly and pathetically once you’re slipping back onto the bed, where you were not even 5 minutes ago and chews her inner cheek harshly. “think you’re lying to me, sweets, you always say that when you want something, but when i give it to you, you’re a brat.”

just as you crawl between her spread legs again, vi reaches down and you quickly snatch her hand away before she can do anything. “ah see, you don’t listen, you woke me up to make you cum, and now you’re wanting to do it yourself? after all this time?” you tutted and shook your head. “now you want to make yourself cum because i won’t give you what you want?”

“m’sorry, i just need you to touch me,” vi sighs, thighs already shaking as you run your hand up and down slowly with another grin on your fuckin’ face. “i’ll be good, i promise.”

she jolts in her spot, jaw slacking and eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of you sliding your fingers through her folds, slick coating your fingers like warm honey on a sunny morning. “what do you want, baby?” your eyes found hers when they fluttered open again, dipping your fingers down teasingly and laughing at the way her cunt clenched around nothing.

“barely touched you and you can’t even think, let alone tell me what you want me to do,” you mumbled with a soft scoff that had her whimpering. “you always did go a little dumb when m’playing with your pussy, don’t you?”

shamelessly, vi bucks up into your touch, pathetic sounds tumbling from between her swollen lips, and greedily trying to get you to do something, do anything, and help her. “stop being mean,” she breathed out, gripping the sheet tighter.

“mean? m’not being mean baby. if i was being mean, i’d tie you to the bed, shove a vibrator between your legs and not let you cum at all, that’s me being mean, but m’touching you now, aren’t i?” you cocked your head to the side and smiled. “then again, you love when i’m mean, no?”

once again, it should make her angry, upset, but it doesn’t, it makes her feel more pathetic, has her trembling beneath you and screwing her eyes shut. waiting for something, just a simple touch from you. leaning your head down, vi gasps suddenly when you’re sinking your teeth into the skin of her inner thigh, and her hand comes down quickly to cup the back of your head when you’re sinking two of your fingers into her cunt. her silk walls clamping around them tightly. “there you go,” you cooed with a smug grin, licking and biting the small marks on her skin. “just needed my fingers to shut that bratty attitude up, hm?”

“thank you,” vi cried out, throwing her head back with what sounded like a desperate whine at the sudden movements. your free hand is quickly pinning down her thigh, keeping it open and you’re wrapping your lips around her clit, throbbing under your tongue as your fingers rub against her walls. “oh fuck! shit, oh my god.” she chanted and pushed your head more between her legs. “thank you, thank you—” she’s choking on her moans and grinding up against both your mouth and fingers.

humming around her clit, the vibrations send a shiver down her spine and her back arches while her toes curl in the thick socks that are more than likely yours before sinking her blunt nails into the back of your neck. “no!” vi growls in annoyance when your mouth is gone just as fast as it was there and glared down at you. “stop teasing me!”

“don’t make me tie you to this bed, you fuckin’ brat,” you warned, curling your fingers painfully slow. “maybe i need to put my boxers back in your mouth and then you’ll listen to me.”

#♰ mail received #⛧ anonymous #vi smut #violet arcane #violet smut #arcane vi #vi league of legends #vi arcane #vi arcane x reader #vi x reader #violet x reader #vi blurb

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zepskies · 4 hours ago

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ahahaa I love it, hun!! I love hurt/comfort in pretty much all its forms too, and sick-fics are no exception!! 💓💓

ahhh i loveee mondler 😩 this reference was so cute. 🥺 he’s just as stubborn as she was in that episode lmaooo (also i think of that ep every time i have to use vapor rub 😔🤣)

I always liked them more than Ross/Rachel tbh! Hahaa I thought Dean's stubbornness would be Monica-like. 😝 (fun fact: I'm allergic to vivaporu so I can't use it anyway lol)

the way you describe food in your stories reminds me of watching a studio ghibli film and seeing the food animations — i get that same feeling of “oh my gosh that looks/sounds amaaaazing” 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽 so good

Ahhh I LOVE writing about food loll. And I have that SAME THOUGHT every time I watch Studio Ghibli or literally any anime or K-drama where food is present. It all looks SO good. 🤤

i’m so soft stoooooop 😭 our boy getting the love and affection he deserves <333 this was too sweet 😔💖

This is the thing with Dean, isn't it? We want to give him the comfort and affection and love he should've gotten on the show. 💞 It's honestly gotten me thinking about brainstorming something for the Midnight Espresso-verse again.

the banter 😩🫠 agh, so so sweeeeet 💞💞

aww thank you! Idk why Beau brings out the bouncy fluffy banter in me. 😂💓

he’s so funny for that lmfaoo i love him 😭 I’d happily take care of him ofc…buuut i’d also give him some caldo de pollo and put cough drops in his tea so he could recover asap 😅🤣

Omg YES caldo de pollo. 😋 My mom made that for me after my surgery. 🥹 Probably why I included the soup and the bread on the side for Dean loll.

now ben you know damn well 💀

lmfao he don't wanna admit he's been brought down by a measly little cold. 🤧

joey core 🤣 (sorta)

LOL Joey tried to be fancy with that yacht, but it didn't take. It's honestly endearing to see him remain true to his core despite his soap opera fame. 😂

period 🙂‍↕️💅🏽 loll

Right? Like stfu and eat your soup, Ben. 😆

aaaand i’m soft again 😔🥺 ben be like:

He won't admit it, but he's got a heart beating in his chest that wants to be loved. 💓💓

now i’ll admit, I haven’t seen 10 inch hero yet :’) however, I thought priestly’s hcs were adorable, he just seems like a very lovable goofball lol <33 (kinda gives me alternative shaggy from scooby doo vibes?)

*snorts* highly accurate on "alternative shaggy" vibes. 🤣 Basically all you need to know about Priestly is that he's got an "edgy" appearance and he tries to talk tough, but he's a total adorkable mush inside. 💙

these were all so good alex!!💓 i think dean was my favorite for this batch of hcs, not sure if the friends reference made me biased 🤣 but as always, these headcanons were lovely 🫶🏽

Aww honestly I had so much fun with these HCs, but Dean might be my favorite too this time around -- just because I love any opportunity to shower that man with affection and make him sit his ass down and let it happen lol. I'm so glad you enjoyed these, hun! 💞

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

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#lovely review! 💞💞#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #headcanon: man flu

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