#they already feel so much better than my cane | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kirammanswifey · 21 days ago

Note

hello!!! I really enjoy reading your writing, always reading them like it's a bedtime story lol. I was wondering how arcane characters would react with you wearing their clothes. like after a long day they come home and see you in their clothes or like you fall in a puddle and they give you their clothes to wear, anything you want

thank you for your words, sweetheart, you just made my day, hope you like this ;)

how arcane characters would react to you wearing their clothes (fem reader, romance/fluff)

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love you, person who asked for this. this kind of dynamics are fun because you can write it from many perspectives and use several genres, and i love a fluff with a little bit of spicy. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the door closing behind you seems louder in the silence of the room. The rain hasn't stopped outside, and each drop seems to remind you how soaked you are. Your wet clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin, and you decide you can't stay like this. You look around, and your eyes land on one of Viktor's shirts, casually draped over the back of a chair. You know he won’t mind, so you grab it and head to the bathroom to change.

The soft fabric of Viktor's shirt, slightly oversized for you, falls over your shoulders, enveloping you in its characteristic scent—a mix of old paper, ink, and something you've always associated with him. You feel a little warmer, wrapped in something so intimately his.

Soon after, you hear the familiar click of Viktor’s cane in the hallway. He’s back home after a long day at the lab. You know he must be exhausted too, but you still feel a little nervous about how he’ll react to seeing you in his clothes.

The door opens slowly, and Viktor steps inside. His slender figure pauses for a moment when he sees you, his amber eyes studying you with a mix of surprise and something else you can't fully identify. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can see his normally neutral expression gradually soften.

“Did you have a rough day?” he finally asks, his voice soft and concerned as he closes the door behind him.

You nod, fiddling with the long sleeves of the shirt that come down almost to the middle of your hands. “Yeah, I got caught in the rain on my way back,” you explain. “I changed so I wouldn’t soak everything, hope you don’t mind me wearing your shirt.”

He takes a few steps toward you, leaning slightly on his cane. His eyes linger on you, but this time there’s a warmth in them that he rarely shows. “I don’t mind at all,” he says, a faint smile curving his lips. “Though I must admit, it looks better on you than I expected.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at his comment, and he seems to notice, because his smile widens slightly. Viktor rarely makes such remarks, but when he does, they always leave you momentarily speechless.

“Come here,” he says gently, extending his free hand toward you. “You’re shivering. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours. He leads you to the couch and helps you sit. “I’ll make something warm for you. Wait here.”

You watch as he moves toward the kitchen, his steps careful and precise. As you watch him, you can’t help but feel a mix of tenderness and admiration. Viktor is always so considerate, even when he’s exhausted.

A few minutes later, he returns with a steaming cup of tea. He sits next to you, offering it with a look that reflects both concern and something more intimate. “Drink slowly, it’s hot.”

You take a sip, feeling the warmth spread from your throat to your chest. “Thanks, darling. You always know how to take care of me.”

He looks at you, his expression more relaxed now. “It’s natural to want to take care of someone who means so much to you,” he says with a sincerity that makes your heart race.

You set the cup down on the table, turning toward him. “And you? How was your day?”

Viktor leans back against the couch, his gaze drifting for a moment. “It was... long. But seeing you here, wearing my shirt, makes it all worth it.”

His words are simple, but the weight behind them hits you hard. You lean toward him, taking his hand in yours. “I like wearing your clothes. It makes me feel close to you, like I’m carrying a piece of you with me.”

Viktor looks at you, his expression softening even more. “Then you should wear them more often,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and tenderness. “Though it might be hard to get them back if you look this good in them.”

You smile, feeling completely at home in this little world you’ve built together. “Maybe I’ll never return them,” you joke, enjoying the soft laugh that escapes his lips.

He leans in a little closer, his hand gently caressing yours. “That wouldn’t be a problem. I can always buy more, but seeing you like this... that’s something priceless.”

Jinx

You're at Jinx's hideout after a day full of adventures in Zaun. You had been helping her with some of her projects, and amidst all the excitement and chaos, you ended up with your clothes completely ruined, covered in paint and grease stains.

"Wow, wow! Look at you!" Jinx says, laughing as she points at your shirt and pants. "Looks like your clothes lost the battle against my masterpiece."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Yeah, looks like I need a change of clothes urgently."

Without missing a beat, Jinx jumps towards one of her wardrobes, rummaging through her quirky collection of garments. "I know! Put this on." She pulls out a black crop top and one of her signature jackets—blue with neon details—and tosses them to you with a mischievous grin. "You'll look awesome. Trust me."

After taking off your dirty clothes, you put on the crop top and finish with the jacket. "How do I look?" you ask, spinning around so Jinx can see.

She watches you with a growing smile. Her blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she quickly approaches, tugging at the sleeves to adjust them on your arms. "Oh, for the love of explosions! You look amazing! It's like this jacket was made for you!" Jinx steps back to admire you better, placing a hand on her chin as if evaluating a piece of art.

"It's not what I usually wear, but your style suits me better than I thought," you say, feeling the warmth of her gaze.

Jinx claps, thrilled. "I knew it! I knew it! My instincts never fail." Then, her eyes light up even more, as if she just had the most brilliant idea in the world. "I know! From now on, we could wear matching outfits. It'd be awesome! You and me, matching styles, taking Zaun by storm as an unstoppable duo."

You laugh at her enthusiasm. "Matching outfits? That sounds... interesting."

"No, no, no! It sounds absolutely amazing," she insists, giving you a quick spin to see how the jacket fits from all angles. Suddenly, her eyes stop on the back of the jacket, and an even bigger smile spreads across her face.

"What is it, sweets?" you ask, noticing her fixed gaze.

"Well... look at the back," she says with a mischievous laugh.

You turn to see the back of the jacket and realize that, in big letters, it has "Jinx" written on it. You turn back to her with a raised eyebrow and a playful smile. "So, you're marking your territory or what? You don't want anyone getting confused about whose jacket this is?"

Jinx bursts into laughter, throwing herself at you and wrapping her arms around you. "Exactly! Now everyone will know you're mine... or at least rocking my style! It's perfect, right?"

You join her laughter, wrapping your arms around her. "Aw sweets, I didn't know you were the type to mark your territory."

She shrugs with a cheeky grin, her face close to yours. "Well, I don't want anyone else claiming my girl. Now everyone will know if they see you, they're looking at half of our dynamic duo!"

Jinx's energy is contagious, and although you know this situation is completely crazy, you can't help but feel comfortable and cherished by her. "Well, I guess I have no choice but to embrace my new look," you say with a smile.

"That's it! Now, with this jacket and my name on your back, we'll be unstoppable!" Jinx leans in, putting an arm around your shoulders and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

You’d had a bad day. The city of Zaun wasn’t exactly friendly, and after a stumble, you ended up in a puddle full of dirty water with a nauseating smell you couldn't even describe. As you walked towards Vi’s place, with your legs soaked and irritation taking over, all you could think about was how lucky you were to have Vi to vent to and shake off this bad day.

When you arrived at her door, frustration and exhaustion were written all over your face. You knocked on the door, and as always, Vi opened it with a teasing smile, though upon seeing you like this, her expression changed to a mix of concern and amusement.

“What happened to you?” she asked with a playful grin, noticing the discouragement on your face.

"Zaun," you grunted, almost growling as you stepped inside. "I fell into a puddle. Everything stinks."

Vi let out a soft laugh. “Wow! You must be thrilled. Are you sure you're not going to become Zaun's new statue?” she said in her sarcastic tone, but there was something more in her eyes. A hidden concern behind her teasing tone.

“I’m not in the mood,” you muttered as you headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. The sensation of the hot water was comforting, and after a few minutes, you managed to feel like some of your bad day had washed away. However, upon exiting, you realized you didn’t have anything else to wear.

Vi, always attentive to these details, had left one of her favorite shirts on the bed. The red shirt, which always fit you loosely and had, over time, become something you wore more often. You put it on without thinking too much. The smell of Vi on the garment gave you a sense of calm, but at the same time, the tension that had always existed between you grew a bit more.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, Vi was in the living room, lying back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. She watched you silently as you entered, a gleam in her eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. The shirt, oversized on you, moved with each of your steps, and despite how awkward the situation could be, you felt incredibly drawn to her gaze.

Vi sat up straight, her eyes fixed on you. The smile that spread across her face was almost predatory. “So, you’re wearing it again, huh?” Her voice was soft, but there was a touch of challenge and desire in it that you couldn’t ignore. “You look... interesting.”

You shrugged, though the way she looked at you made you feel more exposed than you’d like. “You left it there for me, Vi. And yes, I like wearing it, it's comfortable.” But as you spoke, her eyes didn’t leave you, scanning you from top to bottom with that intensity that always made time seem to stop.

Vi approached slowly, her steps sure, almost as if she was savoring every second that passed near you. “Just comfortable? Are you sure?” Her voice was lower now, filled with a dangerous softness. “Because that shirt... it’s kind of sexy. And it seems like it’s not just the shirt. It’s like you’re saying, ‘I’m yours,’ but without saying it out loud.”

The atmosphere became heavy, the tension floating in the air was impossible to miss. Your cheeks flushed red at Vi’s proximity, at the words she had said and the way she had said them. You tried to maintain your composure, but the heat in your body didn’t lie.

“And what if it is?” you asked, your words bolder than you thought, as you looked her in the eyes.

Vi stopped in front of you, her hands resting on her hips, watching you with a mix of challenge and attraction. “Then,” she said, her eyes sparkling with complicity, “can I claim you as mine?” The way she said it, with that low, enveloping tone, made your heart race. The tension between the two of you was palpable, as if the distance between you disappeared with every word.

You stepped closer, enough to feel the warmth of her body, her breath almost on yours. “I don’t think you need to ask for permission,” you said, using a defiant smile, knowing the game had begun.

Vi smiled with that mischievous glint in her eyes, stepping even closer. “You’re right. I marked you as mine long before you wore this shirt.” She tugged at the hem of the shirt and pulled you closer to her. “But, do you want me to mark you now in another way?”

You felt everything inside you react to her closeness, and you knew this was about to get much more intense. Vi always had that power over you, and the way she was looking at you now proved it.

“That sounds tempting,” you murmured, your words coming out softer than you expected, but without regret.

With a satisfied smile, Vi finally took you by the waist and gently brought your lips to hers. “Then let’s not waste time, little deer,” she whispered before kissing you with an intensity as great as your desire for her.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn and you had just returned from a recent mission. It had been a long day, filled with tensions, reports, and the constant need to maintain the facade of control. But now, after leaving the worries behind, all you wanted was to relax and enjoy Caitlyn's company, who always managed to make the chaos of the day fade away, at least for a while.

In the bathroom, the steam mixed with the heat, surrounding you as you sank into the relaxation the tub brought. Caitlyn was beside you, dipping into the water to wet her hair, the situation beginning to feel more intimate than usual. Both of you had made it a habit to share a bath after work, an opportunity to shed the physical and mental tensions.

Though you had been together in moments of camaraderie, the brush of your wet bodies in the water created a new, different sensation. Caitlyn's hands sometimes slid softly over your back, seeking to relax tense muscles, and you reciprocated, letting out sighs as the closeness became more palpable. Occasionally, her fingers lingered a bit longer than necessary, touching you with a softness that made you shiver.

After finishing, Caitlyn was the first to step out of the bath, running a towel through her hair with a certain awkwardness. "I need something comfortable, do you mind if we wear pajamas?" she asked, almost without thinking, as she headed to her room. There was no need to ask, as something always felt very natural about how she behaved with you, though this time something in her demeanor caught your attention.

When you entered her room, Caitlyn had already changed, but she left the door slightly ajar while pulling out a long-sleeved shirt and comfortable pants. The sight of her bare back made you stop for a moment, watching her with a mix of admiration and restrained desire. It wasn’t the first time you had seen her in light clothing, but something about her attitude tonight felt different. As she dressed, her movements were softer, more... delicate, as if she were waiting for something. Caitlyn turned just as you walked in, giving you the chance to see her in her comfortable clothes.

"Don’t look at me like that," she said, smiling, as always, with that mix of challenge and amusement in her gaze.

"Impossible not to, sheriff," you joked, moving closer to grab your own pajamas and change, but before you could do so, Caitlyn looked at you with an intensity that made you feel uncomfortable in a pleasant way.

You stopped, confused by the intensity in her gaze. "What’s wrong, Cait?" you asked, with a soft smile, feeling how the atmosphere was becoming heavier. "You’re acting different."

Caitlyn took a step toward you, approaching with her typical leader stance, but something in her face said she wasn’t as sure of herself as usual. Her fingers played with the edge of her shirt as she looked at you. "It’s just that..." she began, clearly hesitant, "it’s just that... I like seeing you in my clothes. It’s not just that they fit you well, it’s that... it feels right."

The air between you suddenly thickened, the tension floating, as if her words had opened a door neither of you knew if you were ready to cross. Caitlyn, usually so confident, was now showing vulnerability, but with a vulnerability you had never seen in her before.

You approached her, noticing how her eyes shone a little more than usual. You took her by the shoulders, with a softness that contrasted with her strong character. "Why is it so important to you?" you asked in a low voice, feeling that this moment was different from any other you had experienced with her.

Caitlyn sighed, her fingers touching the fabric of her shirt on your skin. "It’s... hard to explain, but seeing you in my clothes makes me feel closer to you, as if we were even more... partners. It’s weird, I know."

For a moment, all you could do was look at her, your heart pounding in your chest as you processed her words. Caitlyn, so reserved, so firm always, was showing you a side of her that she only shared with you. And that made you feel more connected than ever.

You took her hand, gently stroking it and recognizing the vulnerability in her posture. "I understand," you said, smiling softly. "I like seeing you like this too. Not just in your clothes... but in everything you are. I don’t mind."

Caitlyn looked at you, a shy but genuine smile appearing on her face as her eyes softened. "I guess I’m always looking for ways to stay in control... but with you, it seems I let go of that facade," she said, almost as if speaking to herself. "I feel better when I have you close."

Then, without warning, Caitlyn hugged you, wrapping her arms around you protectively, a soft caress, almost as if seeking comfort. The hug lingered, and in that moment everything seemed to stop. The mission, the worries, the rules. It was just the moment when the two of you truly felt connected, without any barriers separating you.

Jayce

After a long, exhausting day filled with endless debates in the Council, Jayce finally arrives home. The doors open with a soft creak, and the sound of his footsteps echoes down the quiet hallway. You know he’s had a rough day, and you’ve prepared to welcome him in the best way possible. You’ve been working on dinner, almost ready for when he returns, but the most important part is how you plan to greet him.

You’re in the living room, holding a glass of wine, your body draped in Jayce’s white shirt. You know it’s much larger on you than it is on him, and you’ve done it intentionally. Traditional dresses or outfits seem unnecessary now; all you want is to see him relax, to feel good after a long day.

As he approaches, his eyes widen at the sight of you, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, the hem brushing your thighs. However, what catches his attention the most is how you’re wearing nothing underneath. The contrast between your relaxed demeanor and the tension reflected in his face is immediate.

“Welcome home,” you say with a soft smile, raising the glass of wine towards him. “I thought you could use some rest.”

Jayce takes a long breath, as if trying to maintain his composure, but it’s clear that the sight before him has thrown him off balance. His eyes briefly trail over your figure before meeting yours, where the tension is palpable.

“What… what are you doing?” he asks, clearly affected but trying to keep his tone serious, though his eyes betray him.

“I’ve prepared some dinner,” you respond with a playful smile. “Come to the kitchen with me, please. It’s almost ready.”

As you walk towards the kitchen, you can feel his gaze fixed on you. Jayce can’t help but follow you with his eyes, appreciating every detail of your form, especially the way the shirt clings to your body, leaving little to the imagination. The atmosphere in the house has changed, becoming warmer, but also more charged than anyone could have anticipated.

When you reach the kitchen, you start chopping some vegetables, focused on the task but fully aware that Jayce hasn’t stopped looking at you for even a second. The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board fills the space initially, but as time passes, you feel the tension between you both growing.

It’s as if the air thickens, and finally, he can’t resist anymore. Jayce steps forward, slowly moving behind you until you can feel his warmth against your back. His body presses against yours, his breathing now deep and almost irregular. The closeness of his body makes your heart race faster, and the brush of his chest against your back heightens the intensity of the situation… in the best way.

“You look incredible,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if afraid to admit what he’s feeling. His breath grazes your neck, and the heat of his body melds with yours, filling you with an electric sensation. “Seeing you in my shirt... I can’t handle it. It turns me on more than I’d like to admit.”

You feel your skin prickling at his words, and for a moment, the knife in your hand is suspended in the air. But you don’t let it fall, even though you’re close to losing yourself in the sensation he provokes in you.

“Oh, really?” you tease, tilting your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “What, are you jealous of your own clothes?”

Jayce chuckles softly, a sound full of tension and desire. “It’s not jealousy,” he responds with a smile that barely conceals what he’s feeling. “It’s... fascination. I didn’t know something as simple as a shirt could... affect me this way.”

You feel him move even closer, his body now pressed fully against yours, making the space between you nearly vanish. His hand, soft yet firm, rests on your hip, and the contact is so intimate you could swear the world is about to fade away in that instant.

“You look so good,” he says, his tone now deeper, filled with desire. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.” His erection clearly pressing against your backside.

Finally, after that whisper full of desire, Jayce pulls back slightly, looking down with a small smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so direct… but I couldn’t help it. You drive me crazy.”

You turn fully towards him, still smiling, as you take a step closer, closing the gap. “I don’t want apologies. I just want you.” You whisper, before cupping his face in your hands and devouring his lips.

Ekko

Ekko enters his workshop, closing the door with a tired sigh. The gears keep turning, the hum of the machines welcomes him as always. You step into the space after hearing his footsteps. Ekko didn’t expect to find an unexpected scene: you, wearing his orange bandana around your neck, his sleeveless white shirt, and a pair of his baggy pants that barely allow you to walk properly. It was like you were cosplaying him.

You throw him a playful look as you adjust the shirt, which is obviously much larger than you. You smile as you see his eyes widen slightly, observing your figure draped in his clothes.

"What? Do you like my style?" you ask with a mischievous tone, noticing the sparkle in his eyes. The Ekko you know isn't easily startled, but now, you can tell something has slightly caught him off guard.

"I wasn’t expecting this," he responds with a sly grin, crossing his arms as he watches you with a mix of interest and amusement. "So, you took over my clothes without asking? Are you planning to take my entire wardrobe too, or just this for now?"

Your laughter is soft but playful. You know you're teasing him, but you enjoy seeing how his confident attitude meets this little challenge. "Does it bother you?" you ask as you step closer, playful.

Ekko takes a step towards you, wearing that characteristic, confident smile. "Of course, it doesn’t bother me, babe," he replies in a teasing tone, moving closer. "It’s just that I feel bad saying it doesn't suit you as much as it suits me," Ekko puffed out his chest with an air of arrogance that made you roll your eyes.

"Please, Ekko, we both know you're only saying that because you feel threatened. It’s not my fault your clothes look better on me than on you. It gives me a mysterious vibe," you joke in the same tone.

Ekko lets out a laugh, one that shows he’s fully into the joke, enjoying the chemistry between you two. "Mysterious, huh? You’re right. It’s strange seeing you so... you, but with a touch of my style," he responds, still smiling.

At that moment, you look him directly in the eyes, and without thinking, you say with a mischievous smile, "I think it’s going to cost you a lot to get it back, huh? Maybe I’ll make you a deal... I’ll give it back, but in exchange for something."

Ekko's face lights up with a grin of complicity. "Hmm, I don’t know if I want to know what kind of deal you have in mind," he replies in a low voice, clearly interested. "But now that you mention it, I might be willing to negotiate."

The tension in the air becomes more palpable, the electricity between you more intense. Ekko seems relaxed, but his gaze, his posture, everything about him says he’s enjoying the situation. You can’t help it; the power play between you is present, and you both enjoy it.

You step a little closer, almost closing the space between you and Ekko, feeling his warmth and the vibrant energy that always accompanies him. "Are you really willing to negotiate?" you ask, tilting your head slightly, letting your tone become a bit softer, more seductive. "Because if you are, I have a few ideas..."

Ekko looks at you with those bright eyes, always full of life and challenge. "Oh, I see you come with plans," he replies, his voice low and deep, full of the same playful energy you both are enjoying. "Tell me, what kind of deal do you have in mind?"

You slide your hands around his neck, letting them rest on his shoulders, while you play with one of his dreadlocks. "Well, you could start by convincing me why I should give you back your clothes," you whisper, leaning in close enough that your breath brushes against his skin.

Ekko smiles, clearly enjoying this little game. "Convince you, huh?" His hand slowly travels to your waist, holding you with a confidence that has always fascinated you. "What if I propose something? Maybe we could share it."

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, pretending surprise. "Share it? Wow, that sounds pretty generous of you. But what do I get out of it?"

Ekko tilts his head to the side, studying you with that sharp gaze that always seems to see more than you let on. "You get to have something of mine, something that reminds you of me every time you wear it. And I... I get the lucky chance to see you wearing it, like now."

His words, full of sincerity but wrapped in that light, playful tone, make your heart race a little faster. You feel the warmth of his hand on your waist, his proximity, and you can’t help but smile. "Sounds like a good deal," you murmur, brushing your nose against his.

Ekko holds you closer, his smile soft but confident. "And maybe, every now and then, you’ll let me get a piece of clothing back... but only if you promise to return it like this, with your added style."

You laugh softly, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body and the soft drumming of his heart under your hand. "Sounds fair," you reply before closing the distance between you and sealing the deal with a soft but meaningful kiss.

Silco

The atmosphere in Silco's office is always charged. The dim light from the lamps illuminates the dark corners of the room as he sits behind his desk, his calculating eyes focused on the pile of papers and documents in front of him. Since taking control of Zaun, his life has been immersed in a routine of power and difficult decisions.

However, today something has changed. Today, you have sneaked into his space. He knew you were approaching, he had heard your footsteps, but it wasn't until you entered that he realized what was about to happen.

You approach him with a firm step, and without warning, you settle on his lap, making him pause in what he was doing. You’re wearing his jacket, large, with the collar up, covering you completely and hanging from your shoulders. The garment is unmistakably his, and it fits you in a way Silco couldn’t have anticipated. The jacket, which gives your figure a more mysterious and dominant air, seems to imbue you with more than just his style; it makes you part of his world.

You settle comfortably on him, smiling playfully, enjoying the control you have over the situation. Silco observes you with a slight smile on his lips, though he doesn’t take his eyes off you. At first, he says nothing, but when his eyes fix on your clothing, his tone subtly changes, filled with that authoritative air that characterizes him so well.

"You've been holed up here all day, not paying much attention," you confess in a tender whisper.

"Is that why you're wearing my jacket?" he asks, in a deep voice, as his eyes scan your figure. It’s clear he notices the game you’re starting, and a spark of interest ignites in his gaze.

"I just wanted your attention," you respond with a mischievous smile, enjoying the closeness and the way Silco watches you, as if evaluating every move.

Silco raises an eyebrow, not losing his composure. "And what makes you think wearing my clothes will get it?" His tone is challenging, but something else shines in his eyes. There’s a mix of curiosity and, perhaps, a bit of amusement, something he rarely shows.

"Maybe because it looks much better on me than on you," you reply with a light laugh, feeling how the tension in the air shifts slightly, but without losing the essence of the power you both share.

"It suits you," Silco says, without taking his eyes off you. "You are… an interesting interruption."

He leans in a little closer, his presence always so imposing. "But, you know? What you're wearing isn’t just clothing," he adds, with that deep voice that always makes you feel as if you're being drawn into him. "It's a reminder. Of who you are, and who you belong to."

The air becomes tense, not because of the threat in his tone, but because of the intention perceived in his words. Silco, in his own way, is marking territory. It’s not something obvious or rude, but a subtle gesture that speaks of his way of claiming, of having control over what is his, over you.

You move closer to him, and the distance between the two of you shortens until you can feel his breath nearer. "Who do you belong to, Silco?" you ask softly, almost as a challenge, maintaining a firm, confident gaze.

Silco doesn’t respond immediately, but his eyes soften, and he looks you up and down with a mix of admiration and possessiveness. A side of him that he rarely shows.

"That’s something only you and I will know," he replies, and immediately takes a step toward you, positioning himself so close that the tension feels like a weight in the air. You can’t escape his presence, but you don’t want to either.

Finally, when the space between you is almost nonexistent, Silco places a hand on your shoulder, touching the fabric of the jacket delicately, as if this piece of clothing represents something more than just a garment.

"Take off the jacket," he orders in a whisper, with that deep voice that knows how to make every word feel significant.

Without waiting for you to do it immediately, he takes it with one hand and slides it off your shoulders gently, as if he wants to hold onto that moment a bit longer. When the jacket falls to the floor, Silco looks at it for a second, and then his eyes lock onto yours again.

"No need for more clothing between us, is there?" he murmurs, a challenging tone in his voice. "But if you insist on wearing something of mine, make sure it's what I want."

Mel

The atmosphere in Mel’s mansion is filled with sophistication and soft lights illuminating the walls adorned with high-class art. The event in Piltover, which both of you are about to attend, is one of the most anticipated of the year, and Mel, as always, is ready to stand out. Her presence is undeniable, but tonight, something feels different. The air between you is charged with an energy that rarely occurs between two such powerful individuals, but today, there is a closeness evident from the very first moment.

After hours of preparation, Mel is ready, but she notices that you still haven’t found the right dress. “Don’t worry about that,” she says with a confident smile, her tone soft yet firm. “I have something that will make you shine more than anyone else at that event.”

With an elegant gesture, Mel approaches the wardrobe where she keeps her most exclusive garments and shows you a dress that immediately takes your breath away. It’s a long black silk dress with golden details that seem to catch the light with every movement. The neckline is subtle but enough to suggest powerful elegance. The fabric falls gracefully, highlighting the figure without being vulgar, and at the back, there is a slit that reveals your legs in a sophisticated way.

Mel holds it up in front of you, and her eyes gleam with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. “This is perfect for you,” she says with confidence, knowing her choice is flawless. “I want you to feel as impressive as you truly are.”

It takes you a moment to process the idea of wearing such a stunning dress, but you can’t help but smile. You feel a hint of excitement and perhaps something more in the air.

The moment you put on the dress, something changes. Mel watches as the fabric fits your body, her gaze attentive and assessing, but also filled with something more, as if she’s seeing beyond just appearance. The dress fits perfectly, as if it had been made especially for you, and Mel can’t help but smile, proud of having made the right choice.

When you finally see yourself in the mirror, you realize what she’s seeing. You become aware that, somehow, you’ve transformed into someone else. The dress highlights your strength and elegance, but it also gives you a vulnerability you’ve never felt before.

“Perfect,” Mel says, her voice soft, but her gaze full of approval. “I knew you’d be dazzling.”

She then steps closer and places a hand on your shoulder, slightly adjusting the fabric as if ensuring everything is in place is an important task for her. When she steps back to observe you again, her eyes show a warm glow, as if she’s proud of you in a very personal way.

“Now,” she says, her tone more playful, “let’s make everyone in Piltover wonder who this woman with so much power and beauty is.”

You smile, taking her hand with renewed confidence. The tension in the air feels electric, but this time it’s different. It’s not just about attending an important event but about the closeness of how you both feel at this moment.

When you’re finally ready to leave the mansion, Mel looks at you with a small smile, but full of admiration. “Let’s conquer this event together,” she says with the confidence that always accompanies her, and you know that with her by your side, there’s nothing you can’t achieve.

Sevika

It’s a calm afternoon in Zaun, but you know you can’t relax too much. Sevika has just returned from a mission, her body covered in oil stains and dust, but it seems like just another layer over her tough, hardened skin. Although it’s unusual for her to show vulnerability, today, for some reason, she seems more human, more approachable.

She enters the room with a firm step, but something seems to have left her tired. She’s looking at you without saying anything, though you know that silence rarely means there’s nothing more beneath the surface with Sevika.

You decide to take advantage of being in her space, knowing there’s no work to be done tonight. As you approach her, a strange calm takes over you. Without much thought, you head toward her wardrobe, opening the doors in hopes of finding something comfortable to wear. You know she’s not one to be easily unsettled by your jokes or your presence in her space.

In a moment of her inattention, you find a large leather jacket, rugged in design, clearly meant for someone more imposing than you. “I think this will fit me,” you murmur to yourself as you put it on without much thought.

When Sevika sees you, her eyes trail over your figure with a gaze full of attention. She doesn’t say anything immediately, but silence fills the air. However, her posture changes, and Sevika’s typical confidence unfolds with force. She crosses her arms and watches you, as if evaluating a new threat.

“Did you take my jacket?” she finally asks, her voice firm but with a small spark of amusement.

“What? Don’t you like how it looks on me?” you tease, challenging her to say something.

Sevika approaches you, unhurried but imposing. Her eyes never stop observing you, almost with curiosity. When she’s close, she extends a hand and, with a finger, touches the part of the jacket on your shoulder, examining it closely.

“Not bad,” she responds in a deep tone, but her gaze reflects something more.

You feel a bit provocative sensing her tone, deciding to play a bit more. “Do you like seeing me in something of yours?” you ask, smiling as you step closer to her.

The tension between the two of you rises. Sevika isn’t one to lose control, but you know that sometimes you like to challenge her. The brush of her finger on the jacket, her eyes fixed on you, and that way she has of dominating the situation make you feel the heat building in the air.

“Maybe you like being in my territory,” Sevika replies, her voice softer than you expected but still loaded with authority. The way she moves closer makes it feel like she’s already marking her space but leaves room for the game.

Suddenly, as if it had all been planned, Sevika steps toward you, her face close to yours, her lips almost touching your ear as she whispers, “Just make sure that jacket isn’t the only thing you take from me.”

Her tone is low, full of unspoken promises. The brush of her body against yours is inevitable, and at that moment, everything you’ve been waiting for seems to collapse in the air. Sevika isn’t the typical woman who gives herself easily, but she does enjoy playing with limits.

You stand there, wearing Sevika’s jacket on your shoulders, feeling her evaluating you, challenging you, and provoking you all at the same time.

You know Sevika isn’t someone who likes losing control, but you have a special place in her life, a place where trust mixes with that spark of madness that makes everything much more interesting.

“And what else would you like me to take from you?” you ask, keeping the challenge in your words, a playful smile appearing on your lips.

She stares at you intently, and the intensity of her gaze lets you know that, even though her attitude is one of control, she’s well aware of what’s happening between the two of you. The tension is at its peak, but Sevika simply smiles, that confident smile only she knows how to give.

“That, you’ll find out soon,” she replies in a softer tone than you imagined.

775 notes · View notes

yonch · 1 year ago

Text

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

#isat #in stars and time #siffrin #siffrin isat #isafrin #isat game #postgame isat #loop #isabeau #mirabelle #odile #bonnie #boniface #spoilers are only under the read more #my drawings #etoile tag

2K notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 2 months ago

Note

can I have a sugar cookie, #17, with whipped cream, chestnuts and candy cane?

literally these combos are so much fun

order #17, sugar with whipped cream, chestnuts, and candy cane

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ unusual

tropes: friends to lovers, sick fic, royalty AU characters: jade additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, royalty au didn't make it in here much word count: 600

"So," you start, wringing out a cool cloth and smoothing it over Jade's forehead.

"Let me get this right. Azul can't take care of you because he's studying, and Floyd can't take care of you because you think he's going to... eat you?"

Jade, a pale, shivering mess beneath you, grins. Even in his weakened state, it's unnerving.

"I attempted to do the same to him when we were younger, and I'm sure he's been waiting for his chance to get back at me,"

He says that as if it's a silly prank, or a joke. The twins are weird.

And then he shudders, and goes into another coughing fit. Seeing him like this is almost scarier than seeing him in his unnerving prime.

It's almost... pathetic.

You hesitantly reach out and hold his hand until he's done coughing.

"Ah... ahem... thank you," he says, his voice breathy. "The human form is rather weak."

"You don't get sick where you're from?"

Jade keeps ahold of your hand. "I have people to tend to me, that's all. I'm waited on,"

Of course. He and his brother are so weird, you'd almost forgotten about that. Though, when they say they're they're "heirs" you're pretty sure it's to a criminal empire.

But, oh, well.

"Well, I'm waiting on you. You'll be better in no time," you say.

You take your hand away to open some medicine for him, and Jade just grabs it right back, placing it on his chest.

"And I'm grateful,"

For a moment, you forget where you are and what you're doing, and you just stare.

Another grin pulls at the corners of his lips. "You look frightened. I'm not contagious,"

That snaps you back into place, and you return to tending to him, feeding him a few pills and a generous amount of water.

"I know. You already said that,"

Jade seemingly gets more comfortable in his bed, sighing contentedly as you check the cool cloth on his head again. You've been at his side all day. You were so willing to drop all of your plans to tend to your friend.

It's admirable, in a way. And strange in another.

He looks up at you with something that's almost soft as you replace the cloth.

"Azul isn't studying today. And Floyd most likely would not have eaten me. Neither of them know I'm unwell,"

You stop halfway through wringing out the cloth, turning to him. "What?"

Jade smiles and politely crosses his arms over his chest. "I have a fungal infection. I foolishly disturbed the soil home of a family of spores whilst hiking. I couldn't tell Azul or Floyd, or they would have taken the opportunity to remind me how unusual my interest is. They don't understand it; and they would have blamed my illness on the fungi. But it really wasn't their fault; I should have known better than to disturb their home,"

You blink. He says that all with a merry tone and a smile, but you can feel the vulnerability behind his nonchalance. He's giving it to you on purpose. He wants you to take the bait.

You do.

"...It was an accident. It's no one's fault," you say, sitting beside him again. "And your interest isn't... unusual."

"It's alright if you think it is," Jade smiles. "That doesn't make it bad. You're quite unusual yourself."

Your eyes widen. Since arriving at Night Raven College, you'd been called unusual. Strange, weird, confusing. But never in a kind way.

Never as a compliment.

"...Thank you," you murmur. "You're unusual, too."

"Am I? How flattering,"

Jade chuckles. You smile. He takes your hand in his again. It's quiet, for a short while, and then he starts coughing again, but you stay with him.

Always.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader

285 notes · View notes

bitchface24-7 · 23 days ago

Text

MY HEROS - JAYVIK X READER

submission for @pebble-bb

synopsis: You and your two partners finally scheduled a day off to just relax. Work in the lab hasn't gone anywhere due to stress and frustration. You're excited to have a full day to just rewind and be with the two men you love. Until a spider ruins your day.

warnings: reader has arachnophobia (specifically requested), Viktor and Jayce comfort the reader, Viktor deals with the spider, and honestly fluff all around, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. I understand your frustration at portrayals of bug phobias Pebble. I too have arachnophobia and my mum teases me about it. I'm going to use my story from my childhood on how I became scared of spiders in this story. Don't worry, no brushing off or teasing here! Pure self-indulgent comfort!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It’s been so long since you three have had a proper day off. Honestly being able to sleep in and have the warmth of the sun wake you up rather than an annoying alarm has already put you in a much better mood. Jayce making breakfast as you and Viktor enjoy sweet milk at the kitchen nook is even better.

You get to watch Jayce dance around the kitchen in nothing but pyjama pants and a frilly pink heart-adorned apron. Viktor got it as a gag gift for Jayce a few years ago now, but Jayce unironically loved it, purely because Viktor gave it to him. Now, whenever Jayce cooks, that apron is on.

Viktor and Jayce are in a heated debate regarding which egg type is best. You just smile at them and finish your sweet milk, going to the reading nook you three set up. It’s cozy. Dark wood, little lamps on the wall, a wall of windows, and deep purple bedding that's soft to the touch. You can't recall how many times a pair of you or all three of you squished into this nook to just read in each other's presence.

You pick up the book you've been dying to read, now finally having a full day off to enjoy it, when something catches your attention in the corner of your eye.

It’s a spider.

It’s about the size of a hexgem, fluffy, and black. You think it is a tarantula; they're harmless, honestly good for catching houseflies and mosquitoes. But its a spider none the less, and you're anxiety has spiked ten fold. You just stare at the spider as you slowly lower your book and make your way back to the kitchen, not taking your eyes off of it.

Eventually, you make it back to the kitchen to spot your two partners, still arguing about eggs.

“Scrambled is the best!”

“If you like your eggs to feel like rubber! Sunny side up is the best!”

“If you like to make a mess like a child, you— Darling. What's wrong?”

Their argument ceases at the sight of you. You look like a child in all honesty. The way you're wringing your hands and shuffling on your feet.

“Sorry, I— I didn't mean to bother you guys on our day off but there's a spider in the reading nook and—”

Viktor casually stands up, grabbing his cane to walk with you, “and you want one of us to deal with it.”

“Yes please.” you lightly nod.

You and Viktor walk to the nook as Jayce continues to make breakfast. The walk is short but to you a pit of doom encapsulates your stomach. What if the spider moved? What if its closer than before? What if—

Your panicking thoughts are stopped once you see the spider hasn't moved, and Viktor reaches up and puts it in his hand, cupping the spider with his other hand.

“Darling, could you be a dear and open one of those windows for me? So I can put the spider outside?”

Without question, you rush to the window and open it. It’s lightly raining but you'd rather deal with a lightly damp windowsill than that fuzzy beast.

Viktor ambles over and puts his hands outside the window, allowing the spider to leave his palm. It walks out calmly, over the windowsill and up the apartment building. Viktor casually puts his hands back into the apartment and closes the window.

And with that, your anxiety is gone.

“Sounds like Jayce is done with breakfast, why don't we clean up a bit and join him at the table, hmm?”

All you can do is gratefully nod.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As you and Viktor come back to the main part of the apartment, you see your seats are already set up. Your eggs are done to perfection. In the center of the table is a bowl of berries, a plate of buttered toast, and a plate of bacon.

“Is everything okay?” Jayce asks, a concerned tone evident in every syllable.

The two of you just nod and take your seats, “It was a spider.”

Jayce hums at Viktor's response, “Gotcha. You doing good babe?”

“I’m good. Thanks for not teasing me.”

Viktor and Jayce look at each other in confusion, “Why would we tease you?”

You sigh heavily as you go to drink another glass of sweet milk, “When I was little, about four years old, I was in the apartment alone. My parents were outside on the balcony, and a massive tarantula was crawling towards me. I mean like— the size of my fist big. That's pretty fucking big for a four-year-old. I was screaming and crying because I had never seen a spider that big before, my mum heard me panicking and killed the spider with a can of air freshener. Ever since then, I've been afraid of spiders. Other bugs get to me too like wasps, and centipedes. But spiders take the cake. My mum teases me every time I squick out over a spider, or bug in general.”

Viktor and Jayce hum in understanding, “That is quite scary, especially as a four-year-old. That type of fear is completely understandable.”

“Yeah!” Jayce adds as he puts a hand over yours, “We’d never make fun of you for something like that. Would you make fun of us? Would you make fun of my fear of the cold and snow storms?”

“What?!” you gasp appalled, “Absolutely not!”

Viktor chims in, “Would you make fun of my fear of being forgotten?”

“No!”

The two men smile sweetly at you, “Then we're not going to make fun of your fear of spiders. We all have fears, they're a natural part of life.”

And with that, the three of you eat breakfast in peace. Well relative peace. Jayce and Viktor are now arguing about which type of chocolate is better.

You wouldn't change this for the world, you sigh contently as you sip your sweet milk, looking lovingly at the two men in your life.

You wouldn't change a goddamn thing.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope y'all enjoyed this little fluffy ball of goodness! Especially you @pebble-bb!! This is the first submission I've ever gotten and I hope I did this right. It didn't come to my inbox like an ask so I just made a new file and ensured Pebble was @’d LOL.

Anyways, continue with the asks/submissions! I currently have four drafts waiting to be worked on LMAO, should I make a greeting post and pin it with rules and all that stuff? I'm honestly down to write whatever, but if something does squick me out I'll deny it.

#arcane #viktor arcane #jayce arcane #jayce talis #viktor x jayce x reader #viktor x reader #jayce x reader #viktor x jayce #jayvik x reader #jayvik #viktor imagine #jayce imagine #arcane imagine #first ever submission!#fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader

203 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 15 days ago

Note

Omg more Viktor and Jayce pls that was so good

I keep gravitating back towards the scene where they have their first huge disagreement, the whole "I'M from the Undercity" conversation, and I still feel like a disabled Reader who is from the Undercity is one of my favorite routes to go to pair Viktor up with

I keep feeling drawn to scenarios where Reader meets Viktor but not Jayce and you inadvertently, unintentionally, cause a big rift between the two of them because Jayce says or does something fucked up to you that stabs Viktor in the back in the same way as that conversation

Like could you even imagine if Viktor is already forming feelings for you and here's Jayce, talking about how he doesn't trust you, you aren't like the two of them, you're too anxious and twitchy like you're planning something, how Viktor needs to stop letting you hang around. Just envision in your mind Jayce just REALLY REALLY being riled up and saying something like, "I'm tired of having to worry about them stealing something while they're constantly just limping around--" and here's Viktor immediately coming to not just your defense but his own, "'Limping around'?LIMPING AROUND? Is that really what I heard tou say just now?!" like he's absolutely furious, because uh, what the FUCK is that supposed to mean, Jayce?

Jayce getting jealous when Viktor sidelines a project they're working on together because he wants to help you with a brace or he's inventing some sort of mobility aid for you, and Jayce being absolutely convinced you're taking advantage of Viktor and will stab him in the back. Jayce being jealous and feeling replaced when Viktor is constantly spending time with you to troubleshoot the aids he's built for you. Jayce really itching to work on this project but he can't find Viktor anywhere and he's running all over town and he catches you two... having lunch together. He's jealous. He's angry. He's feelin' a lil possessive for sure.

But also like. Reader feeling... insecure when Viktor heals his leg. I was just reading that this man is 5'10??? So you go from seeing him using his cane, kind of slouching at times, to having him stand at his full height before you, completely healed? It has you feeling... small in more ways than one to see that he's just... gotten better while YOU haven't, or maybe never will. Absolutely 100% you're happy for him but... you just wish you weren't dragging him down more than ever before now that you and him... are on even less equal footing than before

But then I also think of how Viktor's journey slowly corrupts him, or distorts his thoughts, and how a yandere obsession could... pile on top of that

He's healed his leg, he's feeling the rush and the high of running and having a fully functional body for the first time in his life. His chronic pain is gone. He keeps his cane but he's no longer REQUIRED to use it. He's high on life itself, like the entire world has opened up to him all over again. There are so many possibilities now. He feels like he can do anything he can put his mind to. And, of course, YOU are one of the first things he can think about. Now he can do so much more to help you! Protect you! Eliminate any dangers to you!

I couldn't decide if Viktor would want to heal the Reader's leg much like his own or if he would just keep you as you are. I mean, like if he could choose, make a distinction between helping that one singular part of yourself versus what he was doing to people like Salo. Maybe, through some sort of means, you were also touched by the Arcane, and you're able to keep your sanity while it heals your fragile body

(Mmm.... yandere Viktor who can remember you across timelines or gets glimpses of other realities... I love me a good timeline/multiverse "I'll keep going through this loop as many times as it takes to save you" oh wait shit you know what just happened, unlocked a new love for Ekko, we're gonna come back for him later)

Reader meeting Old Viktor or meeting him much in the same way young Jayce did because Viktor still loves you across timelines and he wants to keep every possible vestige of you safe, maybe with you even meeting a version of him who only learned the error of his ways after you had died. Old Viktor giving you something for protection from your current Viktor, maybe even giving you the rune or key to keeping your sanity to be safely healed by the arcane. It being Reader's destiny that meet Viktor and you both change each other's lives. But. Also. Old Viktor giving you something that actually helps young Viktor capture you or something though, too 👀 old Viktor needing to keep the loop going and being the first step on your long journey of becoming the apple of his own eye.

The absolute timeline fuckery potential of the catalyst to you meeting Viktor, being fucking Viktor. Old Viktor gives you some trinket and when you meet "your" version for the first time, the trinket is the first thing he notices, or something like, you drop The Thingy and it's while you're chasing that thing as it rolls or bounces or whatever, that's what causes you to collide with Viktor and meet him for the first time

Ngl.... the slightly mentally broken version of Jayce that's all scruffy and lugs that hammer around is kinda the only version of him I find like, HOT hot, and god 🥴 he has, juicier plot potential than the earlier versions of Jayce as well

To just spit it out, Viktor going through his whole Glorious Evolution and having his takeover but, deciding to keep Jayce and yourself as you are. Mentally broken newly born gods can have their beloved humans for forced companions/pets, as a treat. You and Jayce growing closer in your captivity. Jayce with everything he's lost developing new unhealthy attachments to one of the only things he has left: you. Viktor who may or may not be varying levels of indifferent or outright approving if Jayce were to be physically affectionate with you, developing to outright intimacy.

Who knows, maybe Jayce is sent through some Inception-style Homura-level timeline fuckery where he either learns the importance to the timeline and fate of the world that you're kept safe (which he might take to extreme degrees in effort of trying to do good) or he may just be driven mad with grief seeing so many outcomes where you die, and it's through these branching choices and timelines that he develops deeper feelings for you

But also!!! The version of Viktor who is going around healing people who has not gone full evil borderline cyborg yet also had his own dynamic to him! Live with your yandere lover on his peaceful hippie commune while everyone, like, grows crops for the needy and does borderline habitat for humanity level charity stuff but also there's this constant underlying unshakeable feeling everyone is a little off and cold, like physically cold? Like imagine you and Viktor having a touch-heavy love language because he's been your friend and helping you with your leg and a lot of that involved him needing to touch you, but also for you to trust him and lean on him and the other way around, and once Jayce revives him, the very first thing you notice when you hold his hand again for the first time is how much colder he is. And thus everyone else in the commune has that same sort of... 'something is off' hairs on the back of your neck 'this is the kind of shit dogs bark at' just all around unexplainable bad feeling (because somehow you can subconsciously sense thst everyone is. You know. Kind of. Kind of dead and it's not entirely clear if these are the original people or somehow copies of their consciousnesses)

Wait what's that? You say you don't feel comfortable being boxed in all the time not being able to leave the area and the vibes are honestly just creepy bad here and you're not exactly sure you agree with some of the stuff Viktor is talking about anymore? Did I say "peaceful hippie commune"? Sorry, I meant to say, "dedicated cult hivemind where the second Viktor even remotely suspects you of ANYTHING he has both the people keeping an eye open and he is watching you through their eyes and if you make it known to ANYONE that you're going to leave or escape or whatever the situation is, everyone will drop everything to stop you like it's the fucking Truman Show"

Some HEINOUS fuckshit like, you've got precious items to help you survive or escape hidden under your clothes and you're about to make your getaway and, oh a voice behind you! It's a little girl Viktor healed :) and she's oh so innocently and sweetly asking what you're doing and how nervous you are makes it immediately obvious that you're up to something. You laugh and try and make up a believable lie as soon as you can, "oh, i was feeling really bored so I wanted to jog around!" and she's just like "oh okay! But the jogging paths are the other way, though?" and she's being completely innocent about it. But. You take like. Just a little toooo long to respond, and suddenly she's just, POSTURE SUDDENLY JERKING UPRIGHT, the voice of a full grown man rising up from her throat,

"Please turn back, my love. I would hate to have to chase you"

#yandere arcane #viktor x reader #yandere Viktor #yandere stuff #sinprompts #jayce getting totally sidelined bc in sorry its viktor who has all the juicy dramatic opportunities

151 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 2 months ago

Text

You are the best thing that's ever been mine - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: Sao Paulo 2024. The Dutchman delivered a defining drive…but maybe there is a relationship that could also use some defining.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, angst, crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation

Author Notes: Hi, hey, hello! Apparently I write F1 Fanfiction now?! Also this is the first time I am trying a social media au so my Canva Skills were put to the test. (Disclaimer: I kinda put legibility over authencity, so twitter doesn't look like twitter and messages looks like...something) Also huge thanks to @onebigfangirlworld and @leodette for holding my hand with this 😘)

Nothing was more dangerous than Max Verstappen when he had a point to prove.

Ariel Cane was very much aware of that.

That’s what she got for working with the man for 5 years.

Max Verstappen was a force to be reckoned with. He was known for his raw determination and relentless drive to win. And when he had a point to prove, he was practically unstoppable.

Max was a man who was always on top of his game when he had something to prove, and Ariel had firsthand experience of that after working with him for so long. She knew better than anyone what he was capable of when he was determined.

It was as if his already-ferocious drive to win kicked into hyperdrive.

The Brazilian Grand Prix was set to take place at the Autódromo José Carlos Pace…but Sao Paulo greeted the day with grey skies looming. The weather forecast promised a downpour.

For some drivers, rain could be a unwelcome disruption to the norm, but for Max… it seemed to only fuel his competitive fire.

Ariel was dreading it. Her stomach was churning if she only thought about the impending rain.

She knew all too well how Max thrived in wet conditions. The press had even dubbed him the rainmaster, but for Ariel…it was a nightmare.

Her brain conjured up one nightmarish scenario after the other. Anything could happen on a wet track, especially when the conditions were unpredictable, even when Max had always managed to shine in the rain.

Ariel had seen Max race in every condition, and he had always come out on top. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong today.

She could feel it somewhere deep in his bones.

Ariel kept her mouth shut though. This wasn’t something that she was going to tell Max. He had plenty of other things to worry about without adding her own unfound anxieties to the mix. He didn’t need her to distract him.

Max was a professional, and he had trained and prepared for this race just like he did for every other one.

He was capable of handling anything that came his way, even a wet track.

He knew what he was doing.

She repeated the words again and again in her own mind. Max knew what he was doing. Max was going to be just fine.

He was already in a focused state, trying to get in the zone for the race, pouring over the race data, analyzing every possible scenario. The intensity in his eyes was evident.

Still… Ariel’s anxiety was through the roof, her stomach churning… not helped by the fact that Jos Verstappen had shown up for race day.

She knew why. It had been Max’s longest non winning streak in years…

His father always managed to put Ariel on edge.

Mostly because Ariel fucking despised him.

Jos Verstappen had molded his son into the champion he was. But he also had been the shittiest father in existence during Max’s childhood.

Ariel knew too much about the toxic relationship between father and son.

Jos always seemed to push Max beyond his limits. And then Azriel was left to pick up the pieces afterwards.

Jos could be credited with helping to shape his son into the champion he had become, but there was no denying that he had been a terrible father while doing just that. He had imposed his own ambitions on Max, pushing him relentlessly to achieve success at all costs, and had been emotionally distant and aloof during his childhood.

Max had grown up in a home where perfection was expected and praise was minimal. He had developed a fierce determination and a steely focus that drove him to the top of his sport… but he also carried a deep-seated vulnerability and a constant need to prove himself.

And that vulnerability…that was what Jos knew how to exploit.

He would use every chance he got to put additional pressure on Max, reminding him of his failures and pushing him to do better, even if it hurt Max.

Jos Verstappen was a man who cared very deeply about his son's success, but he cared little for his happiness. He saw Max's professional success as a reflection of his own status and reputation, and he had a tendency to prioritize this above all else.

It was a toxic relationship at best, and a traumatic one at worst.

And Ariel hated him.

She had never hated a person as much as she hated Max’s father, but she hated him.

Ariel Cane hated Jos Verstappen. She was pretty sure it was mutual too.

It was probably because she had been Max’s choice and not his father’s.

Max had been the one she had met during her internship in Red Bulls PR department…and Max was the one who had offered her a job as his Personal Assistant out of the blue.

You are the best and I deserve the best, he had told her flatly. And that had been that. She would have been stupid not to accept the job offer. Especially with the salary it came with.

That decision had not sat well with his father. And when Max had ignored his wishes and hired her anyway, it had only fueled Jos' animosity toward her.

She was an outsider, an unknown factor, and nothing that Jos could control. He saw his influence slip.

And Ariel knew that she could influence Max in a thousand different ways, simply by telling him her thoughts. He would take them into consideration, they both knew that. Jos saw her as a threat to his control and influence, and he had tried his best to undermine her since the day they met.

Max had never let him.

Max trusted Ariel’s insights more than anyone else’s, and he had always been vocal about that. This had only fueled Jos’s dislike for her, and he had made no secret out of his disapproval of their friendship.

Ariel never wanted to be the one to come between father and son.

But she was also never going to agree with Jos Verstappen about a single thing.

Her first priority was always going to be Max’s happiness. Everything else came a distant second to her.

He had already won 3 world championships. Did he deserve another 10 of them as far as she was concerned? Yes. Would she be happy for him if he decided to give up racing tomorrow and become a full time cat dad to Sassy and Jimmy? Also yes.

As long as racing made him happy she would always support his strive to success. But she was never going to use his vulnerabilities to push him to the brink and that was seemingly everything his father did.

Maybe he knew that. Maybe that was why their friendship had grown stronger with time.

They trusted each other implicitly, and with that came a level of honesty and intimacy that Max’s father could never understand or appreciate. As Max and Ariel's bond grew stronger, it only seemed to enrage Jos even more. He saw his influence over his son slowly slipping away, replaced by trust and loyalty that he could never have anticipated.

“Are you alright? You look pale.”

Max's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she blinked, realising she had been lost in her reflections. She turned to look at him, noticing the slight concern in his blue, blue eyes.

“I am a redhead,” she deadpanned. Her skin was always pale. Pale and freckled.

But Max knew her so well. Too well sometimes.

She knew that he wasn’t going to go for it. And she was right.

"That's not what I meant," he said, frowning slightly. "You looked like you were about to throw up or something."

She had been feeling pretty nauseous all morning, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

Ariel was pretty sure that something had been wrong with her dinner last night to be honest… it was probably a case of light food poisoning or something.

But quite frankly, as long as she wasn’t keeling over dead, there was no way that she was going to leave Max alone with his father at this race right now.

"I'm fine," she assured him, forcing a smile. "Just a bit tired, that's all. Good luck,” she told him. “But you won’t need it.”

He snorted. “I am starting from P17. I need all the luck I can get,” Max responded, brushing a hand through his blonde hair.

"You don't need luck," she said, rolling her eyes at his comment. "You're Max Verstappen. You make your own luck."

Max smirked at her words, a flicker of his usual confidence flashing in his eyes. "Damn right, I do."

She managed a smile for him, watching as last minutes preparation were made, before Max settled into his car for the race.

Ariel couldn’t help herself as her fingers went to the small lion pendant she always wore around her neck.

That necklace…It was her lucky charm, a gift from Max himself.

A lion. Because the name Ariel meant lion.

In Ariel’s mind, it had never been for that. Instead the charm stood for the Dutch Lion himself. For Max. The Dutch Lion, the one who ruled the racing world with his talent and drive.

The race started.

It was a chaotic start, with cars moving all over the field. Max had a lot of ground to cover, starting from P17, and she knew it would take a lot of skill and determination to get him up into the top positions.

Despite the chaos of the race, Max always seemed to be in complete control, navigating the field with ease. He was so skilled, and yet the risks he was taking…it was hard to watch without any concern.

In 10 laps he had already moved up 10 places.

And then… the rain started.

Instantly, the racing conditions changed dramatically. The water on the track made it slippery and dangerous, and the visibility dropped significantly. Azriel’s heart was in her throat, and her stomach was roiling with nausea.

Bile was rising in her throat and she went through her bag, searching for the peppermints she kept in there.

“You good?” Connor, one of the engineers asked her. He was watching her with a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m fine,” Azriel assured him, although her voice was strained. “Just nauseous.”

As the race continued in the pouring rain, Ariel felt her nausea worsen. She was struggling to keep herself together, and every time there was a close call or a risky maneuver, her stomach clenched in anxiety.

Connor noticed the way she was holding her stomach and the pale look on her face, and he leaned in closer to her. “You don’t look fine,” he said, his voice firm. “You should go to the medic. Percy is going to have my head if he finds out otherwise.“

Percy. Her older brother. He was the oldest of the three Cane siblings. Three years older than Ariel. And then there was Emma, the youngest. 5 years younger than Ariel, 8 years younger than Percy.

When their father had died 10 years ago, Ariel had been 18, Percy had been 21…and Emma had just been 13. It had come just 5 years after they had lost their mother. To this day, Ariel still thought that their father had died from a broken heart.

Percy had been right at the tail end of his first PhD… he had returned to Milton Keynes and started working for Redbull as an electrical Engineer. Ariel had gone to the University of Bedfordshire so she could stay near home…and somehow together, Percy and Ariel had managed to raise their little sister into a functioning member of society.

Ariel couldn’t help but quirk up a corner of her lip at Connor’s mention of her brother. “Nah, he’ll forget all about it as soon as he has a new project,” she quipped.

Percy was the genius of them. And genius and madness were occasionally quite close together.

Connor smirked, used to her sense of humor. “Not a chance. That man is smart enough to multitask.”

Also smart enough to ruin somebody’s life, and do engineering tasks that absolutely baffled her and most of the world’s population… but also definitely not smart enough to pick up on the fact that Connor had been flirting with him for the better part of three years.

Ariel was close to get Emma to help her hold their brother down to get him to listen to them.

Then Connor’s expression grew more serious. “Seriously, though, you don’t look too good. Go to the medic.”

Ariel rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel touched by his concern. "I am fine," she insisted. "It's just some nausea."

She should have fucking kept her mouth shut. If she had known what kind of drama she would absolutely kick loose with that comment, she would have shut up.

The next thing Ariel knew, she had a bloody furious Jos Verstappen in front of her, appearing out of nowhere, barging into their conversation with a look of pure disgust on his face.

"Did he knock you up?" Jos demanded.

Ariel could just stare at him, her mouth open.

What?

There was a shocked silence as Jos' words rang out in the garage. Everyone in the vicinity froze, staring at the Dutchman with wide eyes. Nobody was expecting that.

Least of all Ariel.

Of course, there had been plenty of speculation and some people outright asking her or Max if they were a couple over the years, but the answer had always been a resounding no.

They were working together…they were friends. Neither of them had ever..crossed that particular line.

She had never even allowed herself to think about it either.

But nobody had ever accused her off…this.

Ariel was just… stunned.

Ariel’s mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just asked. It sounded so absurd, so out of left field, that she couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief.

Quite frankly, her job kept her too busy for a relationship and the last time she had had sex had been… what, a year ago? She definitely was not pregnant.

And she also definitely was not pregnant with Max’s baby.

Jos Verstappen stood in front of her, his face etched with anger.

“Did he knock you up?” He repeated himself.

Ariel could only gape at him, her mind refusing to process what he was asking. “Excuse me?” she managed to croak out.

Jos loomed over her, his eyes narrowing. "You heard me," he growled. "Did Max knock you up?"

Jos stepped closer to her, invading her personal space. "You're nauseous," he said, his voice sharp. "In the morning. I knew that my son is a useless idiot, but this takes the cake," Jos seethed.

Jos' harsh words cut through the air like a knife, each syllable dripping with contempt. The anger in his voice was palpable as he continued his tirade.

"He couldn't just focus on racing and his career," he spat. "No. He had to go and knock up the PA. I shouldn't have expected any different from you either."

He took a step closer, invading her personal space even further.

"You," he sneered. "You're just as much to blame in this mess. You're supposed to be his minder, keep him focused on racing, and what do you do? You go and throw yourself at him. I knew you were a bad influence from the start!"

The words stung like a slap, and she could feel her cheeks burning.

"Don’t try to deny it," he spat. "I saw the way you two look at each other, I know it’s been going on for a while. You’re nothing but a distraction, a waste of his time and talent. What was it, the glory of throwing yourself at a 3-time world champion? Or was it the money? You are a gold-digging whore!"

It wasn't funny. It really wasn't funny. But it was so utterly ridiculous...that the laugh burst out of her mouth before Ariel could stop it.

He slapped her.

The blow left her reeling, both physically and emotionally. She stumbled back a step, tears blurring her vision as the pain and shock coursed through her.

For a moment everybody was frozen, everybody watching the scene in front of them with a mix of horror and disbelief.

Her cheek throbbed.

The nausea won. She vomited, all over his shoes.

The retching sound echoed through the garage as she doubled over, the contents of her stomach emptying onto the pristine floor.

But somehow that unfroze everybody. Connor grabbed Jos and dragged him away from her harshly.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?!” Connor snapped. His voice was filled with anger, and he was practically shaking with fury.

Meanwhile, Bennett, one of the mechanics, rushed to her side. He was as white as a sheet, but his voice was steady as he put a protective arm around her shoulders.

“Ariel, are you alright?” he asked her, gently.

"I'm..." she started to say, but another wave of nausea swept through her. She doubled over again, her body heaving in the aftermath.

Meanwhile in the front, absolute chaos had erupted. She could hear Connor facing off against Jos, and then Christian's loud voice and…

"...get out of here, right now. Don’t even fucking look back." Christian finished firmly.

"You're making a mistake," Jos countered, his voice filled with anger. "This girl is a distraction, a waste of Max's time and talent. I saw it from the start-"

But his words were cut off by a sharp gesture from Christian.

"I don't care," he snapped. "You just laid your hands on a staff member. You just laid your hands on Ariel! If Max was here right now, we would probably need to carry you out of here on a fucking stretcher!” Jos glared at Christian, but the team principal wasn't backing down.

"You just fucked up big time. You're out," he continued, his voice cold. "You're no longer welcome here. Get your stuff and get the hell out."

For a moment, it looked like Jos was going to argue, to snap back at Christian and continue the argument. But then he seemed to realize the futility of it all. With a sneer, he turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving the garage in shocked silence.

"Jesus Christ," Connor breathed, as he came back to her side. "Ariel, are you alright? Let’s get you to the medic."

She could only nod weakly, the nausea slowly subsiding but the pain in her cheek throbbing.

"No, no, everything is fine. Something just fell down," she could hear GP's voice through the whole tumult.

Talking to Max. Who was in the middle of a bloody race.

And who must at least have caught some of the screaming going on.

Next Part

#max verstappen fanfiction #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smau #max verstappen fic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #max verstappen fluff #mv1 fanfiction #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fake instagram #f1 smau #max verstappen social media au

223 notes · View notes

velaryqns · 10 months ago

Note

Hii idk if you take requests but if you do could you write a fic where reader is married and pregnant with Wilson’s child and suddenly her water breaks in the middle of her work? This could be connected to the peds reader you did back then :) tysm <3

Mini Crown

Pairing: James Wilson x Reader

Notes: making this a sequel to “Glitter Crowns,” it seems quite fitting. So this is a head of peds reader!

Warnings: pregnancy, brief mentions of labor, House being House, brief mention of breastfeeding

You waddled walked around the clinic as quickly as you could, and that your husband would allow (lest he walked in and caught you walking at a rapid pace to help Cuddy in the clinic). You and James had already had a few disagreements about the idea of you working, but you told him you’d be fine for a few more weeks, it wouldn’t hurt the baby.

(You were wrong, at least the about you being fine part).

It was during lunch, you’d met with James while he flipped through the newspaper, picking at his meal sitting in mostly silence until you sat down across from him. He put his newspaper down and flashed his signature smile, taking your hand instantly.

“How are you two doing?”

“Fine as we can be,” you shrugged with a small smile and took a bite of one of your fries. You felt your husband’s eyes for a moment, but he accepted the answer and took a fry from you. You watched him for a moment, in a teasing way, and he only chuckled before he went back to his newspaper.

“Lizzie’s parents called,” he spoke.

Lizzie, the little girl you’d both helped when she was in the hospital under James’s care. After going through surgery, she was sent on her way. Even left you a small card.

“Oh yeah?” You questioned, sitting back in your chair at the slight twinge of pain in your back and going around your stomach. You ignored it though, bringing a hand to run along your belly as you smiled at him.

“They said she’s doing much better, and that she still wears that crown,” he chucked fondly at the memory of you doing crafts with his patience just over nine months back, an interaction that had encouraged the two of you to finally get a start at your family.

A few minutes passed of the two of you talking when you heard the familiar click of a cane on the floor.

“Aw look at the lovebirds,” House invited himself to the table, taking James’s newspaper and moving your food out of his way, but still managing to leave it within your grasp (he wasn’t that cruel).

“I’m trying to have lunch with my wife,” James protested, gesturing toward you with a frown; therefore missing the discomfort on your face.

“You live together,” House retorted, mocking James's gesture and admittedly making you chuckle softly. James playfully frowned in your direction, feigning anger at your "betrayal."

You chuckled at your husband’s face, then turned to House, “He’s not wrong, we’re trying to enjoy ourselves before the little one gets here.”

House looked unimpressed, and unable to take the hint given between both you and your husband. House began rambling, filled with his own complaints for the day. You stared at your food, more focused on the fresh fires and soothing the incessant pains you were feeling than paying attention to House.

“Honey?” James’s voice met your ears, filled with concern as he reached across the table, his warm palm covering your hand that was still resting on the table. He’d noticed the look on your face, and his brows furrowed as his large brown eyes scanned over your features, “Are you alright?”

Another wave of pain washed over you, and you flipped your hand over to take his in it, groaning slightly as you leaned in toward him and over your large stomach.

“You know, if you want me to leave you can just ask instead of faking contractions,” House looked over at you as he spoke, receiving a harsh glare from your husband as he stood to crouch next to you.

“Will you stop?” He muttered to the other doctor, then turned his attention to you, “Honey, come on. Let’s go…we can talk to Cuddy—“

“I’m fine,” you countered, shaking your head as you take a deep breath, “It’s early, Hon.”

“You knew it could happen any day,” James almost wanted to say ‘I told you so,’ but knew it would do nothing to help your situation. He instead placed a hand under your arm, letting you keep a hold of his other hand and helping you rise to your feet. His lips grazed your temple, and his voice was barely a whisper, “Come on…”

You breathed deeply, both you and your husband wanting to draw as little attention to yourselves as possible. But you were in the middle of a hospital, so you knew you could easily get help from someone else.

“Say bye-bye to sleep,” House called after the two of you, in a sing-songy way as he took your food and helped himself to what remained of the fries, his attention not leaving the newspaper as James guided you out of the cafeteria.

You didn’t even know how much time passed between your husband guiding you out of the cafeteria to your little boy being placed in your arms; the blue hospital cap sticking off of his head while James smiled down at your son from over your shoulder, his arm around your waist and rubbing up and down your side. He knew you were in pain, anyone with sense knew it.

You smiled at the little boy, his big brown eyes that matched his father’s looking back up at you. You hummed, dropping your head to James’s shoulder, “He’s so beautiful.”

“Just gotta hope he doesn’t look too much like his old man,” the sound of House’s voice almost made you jump. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. Your husband leveled a flare at the man, “What? I’m just bringing him his first cheap hospital teddy bear. We all know he’ll collect ‘em like crazy if he’s the child of you two.”

“House, I just gave birth, I’d like some time alone with my husband and son please,” you pleaded as House set the bear on the foot of your bed. You eyed it, then looked back up at him.

He held a hand up in surrender, “Fine, fine. Enjoy your time off.”

You rolled your eyes as he left. James chuckled and shook his head, then kissed your cheek, “You should get some sleep — I’ve got him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes honey, I’m sure,” he gently took your son and allowed you to lay down. You fell asleep faster than you ever had before.

A few weeks had passed, you were still at home with the new baby, but James had returned to work for certain visits with patients. One of them being Lizzie. She’d been excited about the idea of seeing you, bringing in her crown and asking if it was possible to do a craft. James was sad to tell her that you weren’t at the hospital at the present time, but he was glad to explain why. There was nothing as exciting to him as being a new father, not anymore.

The girl was glum, but she understood, and her parents congratulated him on the new phase in life. It was a couple of days later, when someone from the oncology team dropped off an envelope on his desk. He recognized the last name, it was Lizzie’s. He was curious as he unfolded the envelope, seeing inside that there was a small paper crown, similar to the one you made with your patients and that Lizzie had been carrying around.

He smiled at it, noticing that it was much smaller than the ones you and the children you worked with made. A chuckle passed through his lips and he noticed a note as well, but left it be for you to read when he returned home, which wasn’t too much further away.

The apartment was quiet when he stepped inside, minus the faint noises of the television and you humming. James toed off his shoes and followed the sound of your hums into the kitchen. You were doing dishes, the baby monitor clipped to the waistband of your sweatpants and a tank top (the easiest for you to wear as a new breastfeeding mother) that was covered in a few stains. His McGill sweater was thrown over the back of a chair, you must have worn it at some point in the day.

“Having fun?” You turned at the sound of his voice, and the corner of your mouth turned up as you shut the sink off.

“I just put him down a little bit ago,” you informed James, smiling proudly as you quickly (but quietly) walked in his direction. Your arms slung around his neck instinctively and one of his hands found your hip, squeezing gently as the two of you kissed. You hummed, smiling up at him, “Welcome home.”

“I’ve got something for you,” he lifted his briefcase as emphasis.

“I’ve got my own one of those,” you reminded him teasingly, then got yourself a glass of water as he pulled an envelope out of the briefcase.

As your husband slid it across the table, you could see that it had already been opened, likely by him. You set your cup down as you looked at him curiously, silently questioning what brought this on. When you opened the envelope, a small sob passed through your lips and you reached inside to pull out the small crown.

“Oh my God it’s so cute,” you crooned, eyes wide as you turned it over, unflattening the item so it could sit properly. James smiled at your excitement as you took in its size and then looked in the envelope once more, your eyes locking on Lizzie’s letter. You looked up at your husband, eyes big and wet with tears as realization dawned on you, “Oh my goodness.”

Your husband chuckled, walking over to you and wrapping an around your waist as you pulled out the letter, the both of you reading it together.

Dear Doctors Wilson and Wilson,

Lizzie is insistent that we write to you for her, we’ve tried to tell her that it isn’t necessary, but she really does like you pair. We hope the gift alongside this has reached you and your little one without any damage, and we send the biggest congratulations ever! We’re so grateful for what the both of you did for our little girl, and you deserve this step in life!

Again, congratulations!

You had tears running down your cheeks when James looked up at you again, and he chucked as he gently wiped them away, then kissed your lips, “You’re an amazing doctor honey, and you’re a great mother. Our little man is so lucky to have you, so am I, and all of your patients.”

“Don’t get me to soppy,” you chuckled at him, sniffling and waving a hand back and forth in front of your face. He chuckled, looking down when soft cries echoed through the monitor. Before you could act he snatched the device from your waist.

“I got him, go rest, I’ll be back in a minute,”

You nodded, still holding the letter in your hands as James took the small paper crown. He made his way to the source of the cries, smiling down at the baby as he lifted him in his arms and brought him against his chest.

“Hello,” he said softly, glad to finally be holding his son after a long day. He bounced him up and down as he walked over to a shelf in the corner of the room, photos of you and James lining it, as well as the day your son was born. A picture of him and House (which House tried to bribe you into getting rid off) also decorated the shelf.

James tucked the crown next to a photo of you and your little boy, taken by James when you first your son into the nursery, “There…your amazing mommy had that sent by a patient, a nice little girl.”

James hummed as he looked back down at the baby in his arms, who peered at his father in slight curiosity. It was like looking into a mirror, if the mirror only reflected one’s eyes. James smiled as he looked at your miniature, with the exceptions of James’s eyes. He smiled, “I’m sure you’ll be making your own paper crowns in no time, hm?”

Author’s Note: hi hi! I hope you enjoyed, I did find it super cute to write. Don’t be afraid to send more requests ( I’d personally love some Foreman ones ngl )

#fanfic #fanfiction writer #oneshots #reader insert #gregory house x reader #james wilson x reader #house x reader #gregory house #robert chase x reader #robert chase #pregnant reader #james wilson #eric foreman x reader #lisa cuddy

818 notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 10 months ago

Note

Can I request this? A wonwoo oneshot where they had a fight at the company which leads to the oc to storm out and later wonwoo finds out that on the way home she got really sick but at the moment the oc is in the library. So wonwoo mission is to get the oc out of there but she’s giving him the silent treatment somehow😁

content: established relationship, idol!wonwoo, afab reader, public argument, angst, fluff, etc.

wc: 987

a/n: i did my best to include all the main details of the prompt into a short drabble i hope u enjoy<3

masterlist

you knew you were being quite immature.

yeah, it was just a small altercation with wonwoo over some small thing, but that had just been what it snowballed into.

it had only been a few days since wonwoo got back from tour, having been gone for a few weeks with limited contact with you due to timezones and his packed schedule. you understood. you were no newbie at this. by now it had been a while since you had began dating wonwoo, so you were already an expert on the ins and outs of dating an idol. however, you still demanded some type of attention.

when wonwoo finally arrived, you had expected that maybe he'd try a little harder to spend time with you. while you understood that he was likely very tired from touring, seeing the way in which he isolated himself rather than dedicate at least a bit of his free time to you did hurt your feelings.

had he not missed you as much as you did him?

this led to a one-sided silent treatment. he, of course, didn't really notice as the two of you weren't spending much time together anyways. though you were still on speaking terms with him, you were very curt and short in your interactions. something which he, yet again, had no reaction to.

which is what led to an embarrassing argument just a few hours ago. at the company. in front of his members.

it wasn't anything too big. it was mostly complaints about his terrible time management when it cane to sustaining your relationship. already hurt and having made the mistake of not communicating your issues to your boyfriend, you snapped when you stopped by the company to get lunch with him, only to be told he already had plans with his members.

after an embarrassing rant in front of half of seventeen, you stormed out, leaving a very confused wonwoo behind and finally allowing him to realize that he had unknowingly iced you out.

it felt like shit, to be quite honest. you felt invisible to him. was picking a fight the only way to get him to react?

things weren't always like this. wonwoo had always been the most comforting person you'd known. maybe he was a little reserved and shy at times, but he was always showing you his unconditional love. whether it was through his words or through silent acts of affection, he had never made you feel unwanted or ignored.

even when he'd return from a tiring tour, he'd isolate himself with you. you'd lock yourselves away from the world and simply exist with one another, encompassing each other in the love you shared. this time around, wonwoo had somehow forgotten about you, simply sharing a living space with you rather than being your home.

the worst thing was that he was entirely unaware. the moment you confronted him, you could see the shock in his eyes. wonwoo hadn't even realized he had been withholding himself from you emotionally. the more frustrated your voice grew as you ranted, the more his confusion transformed into hurt. he was hurt at the realization that you'd been hurting because of him – all while he thought everything was fine.

this made you feel miserable as soon as you made your way out of the company. fully aware that you should've communicated your distress to him earlier, you still left, embarrassed at the scene you caused and hurt that he hadn't considered your feelings until you shoved them in his face.

was it so wrong of you to have wanted him to realize on his own? you thought he knew you better than anyone, so it shouldn't have been too difficult a task to realize. right?

and now you were alone.

upon leaving the scene, teary eyed and embarrassed that you had shown such a vulnerable part of yourself in such a public setting, – in front of some of his friends, at that – you went to the place that brought you most comfort. you needed silence, so you went to a secluded library in town.

you and wonwoo would sometimes frequent this place. as both a bookworm and the girlfriend of a popular idol, this was one of the only places you could really go with wonwoo. it was secluded and quiet, meaning that you could simply exist around each other while not being perceived by anyone else. the memory of your times together there made you feel unable to concentrate, so you simply sat in silence for a while.

it wasn't too difficult for wonwoo to find you there. he had assumed you wouldn't just go back home, so he searched from you in places he knew you loved. this had been his second guess, right after the han river, where you would sometimes walk together at night.

sitting in your usual spot, wonwoo quietly approached you, sitting next to you. neither of you said anything. the first contact between you two came in the form of wonwoo's pinky seeking your own, twisting it with yours in a sweet manner. there was no way for you to deny him, so you humored him, eventually holding his hand as his fingers graced your own.

"im sorry," he whispered, looking down at his lap.

"yeah?", you whispered back.

"i take you for granted sometimes. you wait for me here and you put up with my hectic life and i ... i forget that i should reassure you of my love. im so sure of how i feel about you that i forget to let you know every single day. it wont happen again," he finished, eyes now boring into yours.

"can you say it?"

"i love you. you'll never have to ask me again. okay? i love you."

"i love you too."

"let me take you home?" he asked, leaning into you as you sat side by side.

"yeah."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagine #svt #seventeen oneshot #svt oneshot #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader

852 notes · View notes

absolute-flaming-trash · 6 days ago

Text

Pairing: Yandere!Mahito x Disabled!Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1172

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Confinement, Ableism (what else do we expect from him), Invasion of personal space, Stockholm Syndrome (if you squint), Reader uses a cane to walk, Reader suffers from chronic pain.

Additional Notes: Mahito has feelings he doesn't understand.

“Why are you broken?”

The sentence wasn’t an unfamiliar one. In fact, it was one you’d grown quite accustomed to over the years, in all manner of phrasings, but the sting of it never lessened.

‘I’m not’ is what you wanted to say - to insist that nothing was wrong with you, but such a bald-faced lie would do nothing for you.

“I just am.” You replied, not looking up from the thread you were pulling at in your nest - piles of discarded clothing and fabrics Mahito had no use for. It was makeshift bedding that did little to aid the pain you experienced on a daily basis.

Mahito’s whine caused you to look up in time to see him roll his eyes at your answer, his unsatisfied huff blowing a few strands of his bangs out of his face.

“Yes, I know that.” He bent at the waist, arms extended out, and propped up on the handle of your cane as he rested his weight on it in front of you. For a moment you were reminded of a noir film star in the silent picture era. ”I’m asking why.”

A frown pulled at your lips while a grin stretched across his.

“I’ve already told you.”

“You told me nothing that made any sense, I want details.”

“And what about what I want?” The words were impulsive - gone before you could register how bad of an idea they were.

Luckily, although sometimes you supposed ‘unluckily’, Mahito’s interest in how you spoke to him far outweighed any potential consequence they’d have. It was different, he’d once told you. Brave, yet stupid - like how a small dog would try to fight something much bigger than itself.

A squeak sounded around the cold concrete of the sewer as Mahito squeezed the foam covering of your cane’s handle, and it was hard. Hard not to let anger simmer in your soul at the nonverbal taunt, because that’s what he wanted. A reaction.

Your reaction.

“Why are you broken?” Mahito repeated, his tone and inflection the same as before while he cocked his head.

Again, it was hard not to react.

“I have… problems. In my spine.”

‘Problems’ felt like the best term to use here. With him. Though even still, the word choice caused his expression to practically twist with glee.

“Problems?” He repeated, so much condescension dripping from a single word that it made your stomach churn. “Want me to solve them for you?”

Fear and disgust swam in your heart as much as they did in your gut, and you knew he knew. You knew he could sense it because of the way he looked at you. Hungry for anything you’d give him, both on your own volition and against it.

It was another thing you had grown used to, yet had to swallow down along with the bile that threatened to rise.

“...Not particularly.”

“Why?” This time his tone was petulant as the excitement on his face gave way to disappointed irritation. “It wouldn’t hurt much.”

“Because you don’t even know what it is you would be fixing.”

Mahito drummed his fingers along the cane’s handle. “And whose fault would that be? Don’t you want to get better?” He finished with a coo so mocking your lip twitched - the first of many cracks.

He smiled.

“Of course I do.” Your fingers bunched in the fabric settled in your lap as you practically hissed the words. “But I can’t.”

Mahito hummed and twirled the cane in his hand. “I just offered to.”

You sucked on your teeth. “How generous.”

“Have I not been with you?.” Laughter mixed with every one of Mahito’s words as he dropped the cane and crouched down in front of you. The nail of his index finger dug into the flesh of your cheek as he poked it, uncaring of the scrape it left behind as he dragged it down your face. “I have yet to hear a single ‘thank you’ for anything, actually, it’s quite rude.”

This time it was your eye that twitched and you had to look away from him.

What was there to be thankful for? Sparing you, maybe, though arguably that was worse than being immediately killed. Learning what he was, what he could do. Ignorance was bliss, and it was difficult to stay that way when the screams of his experiments could go on for hours at a time.

The food he gave you was another possibility, but even that was laughable. They were scraps at best, and not even given on a regular basis. A large part of you was convinced the half empty bags of chips he'd toss to you was only done so the noise your stomach made would stop interrupting whatever he was reading.

Not that you'd ever tell him such things. You knew it could be worse. Much, much worse.

“Thank you.”

“See? That wasn't so hard!” Mahito patted your cheek twice, making you grimace. “But what are you thanking me for?”

You inhaled deeply. “Everything.”

Mahito’s sharp bark of laughter echoed along the walls, and his fingers grasped your jaw to turn your face back to his.

“‘Everything’?” He cooed, mimicking the pitch and tone of your voice. “I don't think you mean that.”

That was a trap. You knew it was because, once more, he looked at you with that awful hunger in his eyes.

“I do.”

Mahito tutted, “I don't think you do.” His voice almost a sing-song as his nails dug into the skin where your jaw connected to your face. “If you did, you'd let me fix you~.”

“It's not about that.”

“Then what is?” Mahito leaned closer, to the point his nose nearly brushed against yours. It felt like he was trying to look directly into your soul with how intently his eyes bore into yours, and maybe he was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done such a thing.

Each second that ticked by felt heavier than the last. It made you realize just how dry your throat had been this whole time, and you attempted to wet your lips before speaking again.

“...If you fixed me, you'd get bored.”

Mahito merely continued to stare at you after that. With how close he was, it was easy to watch his expression shifting in real time with his thoughts - a detail that was simultaneously intriguing and frightening.

Eventually he sighed, like an owner disappointed with their pet.

“Bored, huh? That's what you're worried about?” The hand holding your face squeezed your cheeks hard enough to force your lips into a pout. “One little flaw changed and that would be that?”

He didn't wait for you to answer, even if you could.

“If you think I'd ever get bored of you…” He trailed off, nothing too unusual when he was deep in thought, but it was the way he did it that made you want to wish you'd never said anything in the first place.

“Well. You don’t need to worry about that.”

#riri writes #Mahito #Mahito x Reader #Yandere!Mahito #Yandere!Mahito x Reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #JJK #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw confinement #tw ableism #tw stockholm syndrome #tw noncon touching #tw invasion of personal space #oof yeah I'm hard projecting here #but it's been a hot minute #it's dangerous to go alone #take this

147 notes · View notes

murdockparker · 11 months ago

Text

Expectations

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: While the honeymoon may be well and over, the new Mrs. Bridgerton has yet to make her presence in the ton since the wedding. Anxious as ever, she listens to her husband and gives it a go.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, reader is not pregnant, reader does not wish to be a mother, illusions to sex but no smut, drinking and drunkenness, fluffy fluff

A/N: Given the setting and time period, not wanting children is rather taboo, I feel. But not everyone wishes to be a mom and that's okay! I hope I did Benedict (and reader!!) justice!

On a far too quiet night in London, candles were beginning to grow short, along with the patience of a newly made missus.

“Must I go tomorrow?” (Y/N) sighed, turning to face her husband in earnest, placing her hairbrush on the vanity.

“And possibly insult Lady Danbury again this season?” Benedict scoffed, looking up from his sketchbook. He had been making good on his earlier promise of the eve, giving his wife a worthwhile portrait. He had already made countless, of course, but this one was to be the best yet. “Darling you cannot keep avoiding her forever."

“Here I thought that was a Bridgerton specialty,” (Y/N) hummed, turning back to her mirror, keen to note Benedict’s crooked smirk in the reflection. “But if you insist that I cut our honeymoon short—”

“You know better than I that our honeymoon is well and over,” Benedict said, suddenly at his wife’s side, hands growing restless on her shoulders. “As much as it pains me to admit, and it does, truly, the rest of the ton is far too eager to make the newest Mrs. Bridgertons acquaintance.”

Kisses were peppered down her neck, just below her ear, warm and sticky enough to halt her thinking. “Life was much easier in the country,” she reminisced fondly. The lady was unsure if the fact her husband was making dutiful work on her skin was clouding her judgment, but her mind yearned for the weeks they had spent in bed, alone and carefree. “No need for this… fodder.”

“Ah to be a woman in the season,” Benedict jested, brushing her hair aside. “But I do think it’s a right idea to go to the soiree. If it makes you feel better, I do believe the duchess is planning to attend.”

(Y/N) groaned, pushing Benedict away. “Just as you begin to seduce your wife you find it fair to mention your younger sister?”

He could only laugh. “I was unaware I was seducing my wife, I merely thought I was helping with her hair.”

“And the fine work on my neck was helpful... how?”

His fingers brushed through her hair again, slowly, deliberately. “Well, considering I was partially to blame for it’s unruliness, I figured I could only offer my services. I fear it came across as unhelpful.”

She fought back a grin. “I will go to Lady Danbury’s soiree,” (Y/N) said, looking Benedict in the eyes through the mirror. “But only if you promise to assist with the rest of my… hair.”

“What kind of a husband would I be if I refused?”

—

The carriage ride was as uneventful as she could have imagined. Not only did she loathe the rocking of the cab, but to not have Benedict’s company across from her—or under her—made the entire ordeal less appealing. Still, she persisted through the boredom and arrived to Danbury House, fashionably on time.

“Mrs. Bridgerton,” Lady Danbury greeted, flicking her cane towards the not-so-new bride. “How lovely you managed to pry yourself from your cottage in the country and rejoin proper society.”

“Lady Danbury,” (Y/N) bowed, smiling as politely as she could. “You think little of me, I would never dare to miss one of your illustrious eves. My mother always spoke fondly of them—as truthful as she decided to be with me, that is.”

“A shame your mother isn’t joining us, those nasty headaches of hers will surely do her in.”

“Father sent for a tea from France,” (Y/N) recalled from her last correspondence with her parents. “I believe it was a recommendation from you, if I am not mistaken?”

“Your parents would do well from listening to me from time to time, I should hope you take the same advice,” Lady Danbury smiled, looking directly at (Y/N), gaze narrowing. “Do enjoy yourself tonight, dear. One tends to forget oneself whilst in a marriage.”

A footman ushered her into the great hall, handfuls of married women of the ton flocked to the walls, drinks already in hand. A few familiar faces flitted her memory as she walked past. Lady Green and Mrs. Harrison, both far too eager to set her up with their respective sons in the last season, smiled kindly as she nodded towards them. Dowager Countess Fairbanks was eagerly replacing her empty glass with another, the loss of Earl Fairbanks was still fresh in the public eye, it seemed. Then, there was Lady Kent, smoking away in the corner, grateful no men were around to stop such nonsense.

“Mrs. Bridgerton! I did not expect to see you here!”

(Y/N) turned to the cheery voice, belonging only to the Duchess Hastings herself.

“Your Grace,” (Y/N) smirked, addressing her sister-in-law properly.

“Daphne,” the duchess corrected, as she had many a time during (Y/N)’s courtship with Benedict. “I must say, I hardly think anyone expected your presence tonight. Surely my brother couldn’t have found it in himself to allow you to escape for the evening easily.”

“I shall spare you the sordid details of my trickery,” (Y/N) said with a murmur, her voice laced with a secret. “Considering they involve your brother and whatever little clothing he possessed.”

“Oh please,” Daphne waved. “You are married, I hardly think it is much to guess you and Benedict have been in such a state thus far.”

“If I may be so honest,” (Y/N) giggled, accepting a flute of a bubbly drink from a server, “he was the one who begged me to attend this evening. I was more of the mind to stay in and continue to enjoy our library here in London.”

“I did not know Benedict’s bachelor lodgings possessed a library.”

“They did not, which is why we purchased a new estate not too far from your Mama’s,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “‘Bachelor no more’, I believe were his exact words when he showed me the deed. It’s quite a lovely place. If I did not prefer the country so much I think I would like to stay here year-round.”

“I expect an invitation for tea sometime, then,” Daphne cooed, clearly overjoyed at her new sister’s happiness. “I assume there’s an adequate number of rooms?”

“Enough for a proper studio for Benedict’s leisure, a modest library for myself, an enchanting dining room and…” Her glass raised to her lips nervously. “I believe that to be all.”

“No nursery, then?”

“You Bridgertons and baby-rearing,” (Y/N) said, nearly sputtering her drink. “I say, you’re already on baby three, is that not correct?”

Daphne nearly radiated with joy at the mere mention of her children—a doting mother in every regard. “Oh yes, number three will be joining us in due time,” her hand grazing over her apparent bump. “But I believe you neglected to answer my question.”

“I think I am in need of far more drink to even entertain the question, dear sister,” (Y/N) downed the rest of her drink, hoping the dim lighting did an adequate job hiding her growing flush.

“Very well,” Daphne conceded, still holding her small bump as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “I believe Kate has begun in the game room if you wish to join me in finding her?”

“Spending my night with my darling new sisters? Without my husband or your brothers to muck up our conversations and vex us? I must say, that might be your best idea yet, Your Grace.

The duchess merely laughed as she led present company into the ballroom—now outfitted with many tables to accommodate the games of the night’s festivities. (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, clearly taken aback by the sheer sight of it all. Wives and widows alike, smoking and drinking over every inch of the transformed ballroom.

“I can’t imagine how you’ve managed to come to many of these things,” she shuddered in awe, leaning closer to Daphne.

“I haven’t,” Daphne said truthfully. “I’m usually back at Clyvedon with my family, it just so happens I’m in town on other business this go around to not ignore Lady Danbury.”

While it was difficult to get the Bridgertons all under one roof—with each new marriage and child that task became even more daunting—the brood did get together recently to celebrate the christening of both Edmund and Belinda. Anthony’s first and Daphne’s second. It wasn’t much of a shock that Daphne shared the news of a third Basset at the christening, either.

“Regardless,” (Y/N) took her place at a game table, sitting beside the duchess. “I’d much appreciate the evening to move swiftly, lest I spend more time away from home than I need.”

“Eager to get back in the bedroom with Benedict?”

The new Viscountess Bridgerton, Kate, spoke up behind the ladies as she took it upon herself to be seated next to her sisters.

“I was thinking more along the lines of his study,” (Y/N) hummed, feeling herself grow warm with honesty. “Perhaps our library? We do have a handful of new rooms to enjoy and christen, I think.”

“I recall making a similar promise to Anthony after our honeymoon,” Kate reminisced, smiling wickedly. “Makes me miss such a time in my marriage.”

“Miss a time?” (Y/N) laughed, accepting a drink from a roaming server. “You and Anthony only have been wed a bit over a year. Surely the flame has not died out?”

“No, no, not died out,” Kate quickly corrected. “It’s just, now with Edmund in our care, our flame has dimmed a bit—exhaustion keeps us both at bay to get at it like we once did.”

“Simon and I had a similar take after Amelia and Belinda,” Daphne chimed in.

“Yet here you are, awaiting your third child in three years,” Kate barked with laughter.

“As you said, sister,” Daphne sipped her lemonade, “it merely dimmed.”

If her face had blanched, the dim lighting of the game room had the entire part of disguising her discomfort at the idea—the mere idea that her want for Benedict could possibly wane.

“Dimmed,” (Y/N) repeated.

“Say, it’s been a few months since your wedding,” Kate noted, “do you and Benedict have plans for children soon? I expect with your new house a nursery is just begging to be filled.”

A polite laugh escaped her lips, humor long forgotten. “We haven’t much discussed the matter of children.”

“Oh, come off it!” Kate admonished. “Surely you and your husband want to aid in the Bridgerton grandchildren numbers? I recall Anthony mentioning an old wager between them on who would have the most children."

“A wager—you’re not serious?”

“Oh, that was merely a jest between brothers, I’m sure,” Daphne said, placing her steady hand on (Y/N)’s. Even in the candlelight, she could tell her newest sister-in-law was having no part in this conversation. “And knowing my brothers, it cannot be held to any regard.”

“Anthony seemed serious enough about it when I was carrying Edmund,” Kate shrugged. “No matter! We are here to play cards, yes?”

It was hard to pay attention to the game at hand—literally. With doubt and endless thoughts swimming through the new Mrs Bridgerton’s head, her glass never emptied and her mind never ceased. She won a sizable amount of money somehow—Daphne mumbled something along the lines of ‘rotten cards’ as she pushed the notes and coins to (Y/N)’s pot.

“You’re sure you do not wish to spend the night here?” Lady Danbury offered much later in the evening, just as nearly every guest had left. Only the Bridgerton ladies remained. “I can have a guest room made up in a blink.”

“Ben will be anxious for my arrival,” (Y/N) slurred, trying to remain upright. “I shan’t keep him waiting.”

“I thought we intercepted enough of her drinks,” Daphne whispered, words only meant for Kate.

“She must have snuck a few on her way to the chamberpot,” the viscountess realized, albeit a bit too late.

“I can handle my drinks just fine,” (Y/N) said, trying to cross her arms. It only took her two attempts. “Honestly, I just want to get home to my husband, thank you.”

“I will ride with her to her estate,” Daphne offered, already getting in (Y/N)’s carriage. “My carriage will follow close behind and I will retreat as soon as I see her enter her home safely.”

“What a good sister you are,” (Y/N) cooed, hand cupping Daphne’s face lovingly. “I wish I had a sister like you.”

“If you remember anything, let it be this, please just write to me in the morning,” Kate sighed, giving up hope on the cause. “Lest you want an angry visit from me tomorrow after you break your fast.”

“Get home safe,” (Y/N) listed, “write to Kate, do not make her angry. I think I got it.”

“Perhaps we should pin a note to her dress?” Lady Danbury laughed.

“I shall tell one of the maids to remind her,” Daphne said. “So she has no excuse.”

“You lot are being awfully nice to me,” (Y/N) said, stepping up into the carriage. The footmen were doing most of the work. “Nicer than I deserve right about now.”

“You’re family,” Kate said simply. “Besides, I reckon we have a part to play on just how much you’ve drank…”

“Quite,” Daphne nodded. (Y/N) began to look rather green. “Lady Danbury, I don’t suppose you have a pot or vase you don’t care much about?”

Wordlessly, a butler came running, holding a rather ornate bowl in his hands. After passing it off to the duchess, (Y/N) took it quickly and held it close to her head.

“Do make sure Mrs. Bridgerton cleans it thoroughly before returning it.”

—

The sunlight hurt.

In all of her years on this planet, the sunlight had never hurt as much as it did in this moment. A errant afternoon in the park, perhaps, leaving her skin a tad bit warm to the touch, but never did it sting like this.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Benedict sighed, walking over to her side of the bed. When had she gotten in bed?

“Unfortunately,” (Y/N) groaned, somehow managing to pull herself up to be seated. Her husband—doting as he was—had a tray of food and a pitcher of water waiting for her. “What’s this?”

“Charcoal,” Benedict tried his best to make it sound appetizing. By the look on his wife’s face, it had failed. “I had Cook mix it with some marmalade on bread to help with the taste. You need to sop up the booze somehow, love.”

“I didn’t drink that much,” (Y/N) lied, knowing full well she couldn’t fool even herself with it.

“I have never seen you in such a state,” Benedict nearly whispered, setting the silver tray on her lap. “I already sent correspondence to Daphne to thank her for insuring you got home safely.”

She took a hesitant bite of the bread. It wasn’t as awful as she imagined. Left much to be desired, sure, but it would do the job.

“I sent to Kate,” Benedict continued. “Told her you would meet her for tea later this week, as you obviously needed your sleep this morning.”

Another bite of the bread managed to go down before she reached for the glass of water in Benedict’s hand. “Thank you for that.”

“I’m still at a loss, however,” Benedict sighed. “What exactly went on at Danbury House?”

“I believe I need far more charcoal bread to entertain that conversation.”

“(Y/N).”

“It was a ladies night,” she chewed, trying her best to swallow her bite. “I cannot share what lewd gossip possibly came from it.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, beginning to wring his wrists mindlessly as he searched for the correct words to say. She hadn’t seen him do it since the day he proposed. Benedict Bridgerton was anxious.

“You said something, last night,” he finally confessed.

“I reckon I said a lot last night,” (Y/N) laughed lightly, polishing off her unfortunate breakfast.

“As I was trying to get you into bed, you kept mumbling a bunch of incoherent nonsense,” Benedict smirked lightly, “most of it made me laugh.”

“Glad to be a never-ending source of your entertainment.”

“You mentioned something about a baby.”

She didn’t dare look up at him.

“A few times, actually,” Benedict said. “Now, I don’t know what came of it, perhaps Daphne’s new addition sparked such an interest or you are with child now but—”

“But you wish for a baby,” (Y/N) finished for him, clasping her hands together. “Soon, yes?”

“What?”

“You purchased a new estate,” her hand motioned to their large bedchamber, “with various new rooms to fill with Bridgerton babies. A nursery already set up by our staff is only just down the hall. It’s only natural you expect that of me, given our honeymoon is over.”

“I bought our new home because my bachelor lodgings had nothing you loved,” Benedict corrected. “You yourself said you wished for an extensive library—I merely acted on those wishes.”

“Everyone expects us to have a baby soon,” (Y/N) groans, head in her hands. “All night I kept getting bombarded with questions and speculations about it! Most of it came from my very own family! Sure, I can handle a bit of gossiping from ladies who have nothing better to talk about, but my new family?”

“I had no idea—”

“It was the sole reason I had no desire to go last eve!” (Y/N) finally shouted, as if she meant to reach the heavens. “I know what is expected of me as a wife but what if—what if I don’t wish for that?”

“You do not wish for children?”

“No!” (Y/N) shook her head. “Well, maybe? Augh! I do not know!”

Benedict’s weight shifted on the bed, having now sat by his wife’s legs. “You do not need to know.”

“Of course I do,” she gasped. “I was raised for two things—to marry a respectable man and to have his respectable babies. One of those things I accomplished without much of a second thought—”

“I’m glad you thought so little about marrying me,” Benedict jested.

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“It made you smile, so I think the comment was well worth it.”

It had made her smile, she realized. The near-permanent frown of the morning seemed to have eased away with her husband’s jest.

“Every time someone asked me about it,” (Y/N) finally admitted, “I found another drink to drown myself in. I don’t believe anyone but perhaps Daphne really saw what was happening.”

“Does the idea of children really cause you such anguish?”

“It’s just—we’re so happy now,” (Y/N) took Benedict’s hand in her own. “I don’t want to muck up the joy and elation we have in each other by bringing a baby into the mix so soon.”

“We never really spoke on the topic,” Benedict said. “In our courtship, I mean. Usually a topic such as that one finds its way onto the stage, but somehow we evaded it.”

She held her breath.

“Truth be told, I never really gave children much of a thought, if at all,” Benedict chuckled, “far too interested in other pursuits. But, that’s not to say such a topic hasn’t been on my mind of late.”

“Has it?”

“Well, with my new nieces and nephew running around—crawling, I suppose—it may have sparked interest in me, yes,” Benedict looked directly at his wife. “But, for all intents and purposes, having a child requires two people and if you have any hesitancy in the topic—no matter little or seemingly small—I do not wish to further the endeavor.”

“What if I am never ready?” Her voice was small, the sound nearly dissolving against the down of the bedding.

“Then we will live a perfectly happy life regardless. You with your books and me with my paint,” Benedict squeezed her hand. Full of love, full of support. “More importantly, we will live such a happy life together.”

Perhaps it was the headache, or the pain from the bright morning sun, but (Y/N) felt the tears she had been holding back finally spill down her cheeks. Without even a second thought, Benedict pulled her into his arms and allowed her to cry, rubbing her back with thoughtful circles. He had somehow already moved the tray out of the way, as if he was preparing for a reaction like this. He knew her too well, knew her better than anyone could ever plan to know her. This thought only made her cry harder.

“What did I do to deserve you?” (Y/N) asked no one in particular, sniffling as she tried to compose herself.

“I rather think I should be asking you that,” Benedict said softly, kissing her brow.

“You truly do not care if I never decide to want children?” (Y/N) asked again, needing to hear her husband’s answer one more time.

“You could decide tomorrow and change your mind a hundred times and I will always be in your corner,” Benedict said seriously. “That is what a husband does. That is what I do for you.”

She smiled.

“Although, I will need to take special care in ensuring you do not become with child accidentally—we’ve been lucky thus far, but I do not consider myself much of a betting man…”

“Were the races last week an oversight, then?”

“Ah, but that was a sure thing,” Benedict snuggled her closer, “what was merely a point to best my brother ended up with us having a healthy amount of spending money! More paints and books in our possession. A win-win if I ever saw one.”

“Kate mentioned something last night,” (Y/N) tried her best to look up at Benedict, but his tight embrace made it difficult. “Something about a bet you and Anthony had regarding children?”

“Oh,” his cheeks flushed, “that.”

“So it is true?”

“In the sense we made such a bet? Yes,” Benedict nodded. “But we made that bet years ago—back when the only idea of us having children regarded heirs for the title, never fathoming we’d do it out of love.”

“What did you wager?”

Benedict smiled, finally pulling away from his wife to look at her directly. “Five pounds.”

“That is all?” She nearly shrieked with laughter. “With such a serious bet I truly would have thought you would have put more on the wager.”

“I suppose I am still expected to pay up one day,” Benedict said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I shall gift it to him on Edmund’s eighteenth birthday?”

She smiled at the thought. “I think that would make an excellent present.”

“Because even if we are to have any children,” Benedict continued, “and that is still very much up in the air, surely Anthony and Kate will be constantly going at it to rival my dear Mama for the title of most Bridgerton babes.”

“Giving him a win regardless,” (Y/N) said. “I believe you’re right.”

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel this way about children,” Benedict said, “I never want you to feel as if your voice does not matter. We are equals in this marriage—partners—in every sense of the word.”

“I may one day change my mind,” (Y/N) amended, choosing her words carefully. “But as of right now, I think we’re perfectly suited the way we are.”

“Well suited, indeed,” he agreed, pressing another kiss to her cheek. “But, I do think this morning calls for a bath—as much as I adore your natural musk, my love, I already had the staff begin to warm water up for you.”

She took a moment to sniff herself. She smelled of sick, smoke and booze. How Benedict was not repulsed was beyond her. “Oh. I suppose a bath is… ideal.”

He rose from the plush bed, outstretching his hand for his wife to take.

“A bath for two, I should mention,” he grinned wickedly. A grin she had loved from the minute she met him. A grin that made her feel wanted and safe, all in the same breath.

She took his hand.

#Benedict Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x Reader #Bridgerton #Bridgerton x Reader #reader insert #fluff #is this self indulgent? perhaps #I'm very much on the fence about children like reader is #children can be a blessing!! but not everyone wants one #anyway... enjoy!

587 notes · View notes