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Rules

I pretty much only write sickfics and hurt/comfort, fluffy caretaking type things, so please only request those!

Need prompt ideas? Check out my prompts tag!

Age Policy

I am very much an adult, and I have no interest in interacting with minors on here. That being said, I don't plan on posting NSFW stuff (always subject to change) on my blog. I will not be spending time investigating everyone who interacts with my content or follows me, but I would prefer that you self-select and stay away if you are a minor. Thank you! ♡

Pairings I’ll write

arcane pairings

Caitvi

Melvika, Melvi, Melcait

x Reader pairings:

Caitlyn, Vi (arcane)

Valkyrie, Natasha, Yelena (mcu)

Olivia (svu)

Alex (supergirl)

♥︎ Will not write

NSFW/Smut

Incest

Self harm, eating disorders

Graphic violence, life-threatening/terminal illness

Characters under 18 (exception: will write platonic powder & vi fics)

Men, sorry lol

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On a typical day, you wake up to the sound of a punching bag being thoroughly pummeled. 

You’re used to it by now, the familiar sound of Vi boxing in the garage while her morning pump-up mix plays from the cheap sound system in there. The two of you have a well-established routine, Vi with her morning workout, you with your coffee and a book. It’s predictable. Comforting, even. 

So that’s why you’re so surprised to wake up this morning and find Vi still fast asleep next to you. 

You blink a few times to clear your vision, then a smile takes over your face. It may be unusual, but you love slow mornings with Vi on the rare occasions she decides to sleep in. She’s sleeping on her stomach with her pink hair strewn messily across her pillow, her face relaxed and her freckles showing in the morning light. You take a few moments to just look at her, admiring the woman you get to call your girlfriend. She’s all muscle and grit when she’s in the ring, but here in bed with you, she’s soft and sweet and all yours. It makes your heart swell with fondness. 

After yawning and stretching, you decide to get up and head to the kitchen. You’ll bring Vi breakfast in bed for a change, instead of her doting on you. 

By the time you return to the bedroom carrying a tray with toast, fruit, and scrambled eggs, Vi has woken up and propped herself up against the pillows. You can’t help noticing she looks particularly bleary this morning, as if she’s had a hard time waking up. Her training schedule has been intense lately as she prepares for an upcoming match, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you smile softly, setting down the tray on the end of the bed and climbing in next to Vi. You wrap your arms around her middle and cuddle up to her with your cheek pressed to her shoulder. “Brought you breakfast.” 

“Thanks, baby,” Vi says, her voice still rough with sleep. She coughs to clear her throat, then grabs a tissue and blows her nose, sounding congested. 

You lift your head, frowning at her. There’s definitely a pink tinge to her nose, and your eyes drift toward the pile of used tissues that have already accumulated on her nightstand. 

“You feeling okay, babe?” you ask gently, sitting up so that you can get a better look at her. “You sound all stuffy.” 

“Fine,” Vi replies, as you knew she would. She kisses you on the cheek before grabbing a slice of toast and swinging her legs out of bed. “Got to start training, I’m behind. Thanks for breakfast, princess.” 

Her tone is nonchalant as she wolfs down a piece of toast, heading toward the ensuite, but you can’t help the twinge of concern in your stomach. You know your girlfriend well enough by now to recognize the signs that she’s getting sick. 

But getting Vi to actually admit it? That’s a whole other problem entirely. 

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You try not to worry about Vi too much as you go about your day, but it’s hard. Your girlfriend’s tenacity is one of the qualities you love most about her, but you’re also well aware of how it can lead to Vi pushing her limits far further than she should. Particularly when she’s got an important goal on her mind that she’ll do anything to reach, like the upcoming fight. 

You get about halfway through your morning working at home before you decide to check on her. You’ve been working in the office and you haven’t seen your girlfriend at all, probably because she’s still training out in the garage. She usually does a morning workout at home, eats lunch with you, then heads to the boxing gym to train with her coach. 

Swinging by the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a protein bar in case Vi is hungry, you make your way out to the attached garage. As you expected, Vi is working out at her uppercut bag, her motions smooth and rhythmic. 

But as you get closer, your chest tightens with concern. Under the sheen of sweat, Vi is unusually pale and her eyes look glassy. Her nose is also bright red and the nearby trash can is practically overflowing with tissues. 

You sigh, setting down the snack on a side table and coming over to Vi, laying a gentle hand on her muscled shoulder. 

She turns quickly to face you, pulling off a glove and plucking her earbuds out of her ears. 

“Hey, baby,” Vi says. She’s clearly going for casual, but her voice is scratchy and hoarse, and she looks dead on her feet. 

“Hey yourself,” you say, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. “Why don’t you come inside? I’ll make us some lunch.” 

Vi pulls her phone out of her gym shorts to check the time. “It’s only ten-thirty babe,” she frowns. She coughs into her elbow and the sound elicits a sympathetic wince from you. “I usually get at least another hour in before I take a break.” 

“I know,” you sigh, resisting the urge to reach up and feel Vi’s forehead. “Come in anyway? Please?” You look at her with wide eyes, an expression that you know she finds impossible to resist. 

Vi gives you a look that tells you she knows exactly what you’re doing, but she hangs up her gloves anyway and follows you inside. 

In the kitchen, Vi immediately slumps down into a chair, looking unusually fragile with her clammy, pale face. 

Your heart tugs, and you gently settle yourself onto her lap. Her arm automatically comes up to your waist to steady you, and you brush a kiss to her temple, tucking pink hair behind her ear. 

“You aren’t feeling well,” you say. It’s a statement, not a question. You trace your fingers over her jaw. “And you need rest.” 

Vi sighs, which turns into a cough. You rub her back while she works to get it under control. 

Vi’s sky blue eyes are red-rimmed and weary by the time she finally looks up at you. “I have a huge fight in two weeks.” 

You nod, brushing your thumb over her cheekbone. “All the more reason to rest now and let your body fight off whatever this is before it gets worse.” 

There’s a quiet pain in Vi’s gaze. You’ve seen it before, and it makes your chest ache that much more. 

You shift in her lap, bringing Vi’s head down to rest against your shoulder. She goes easily, slumping against you, exhaustion practically radiating off her. 

You start stroking your fingers through her hair, gently breaking up the sweaty tangles. You kiss the top of her head. 

“It’s okay to rest, sweetheart,” you murmur into her hair. “It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human.” 

Vi makes a quiet, uncertain noise. She doesn’t lift her head. “It feels weak.” 

“I know,” you hum, keeping your strokes on her hair rhythmic. You can feel the tension easing out her bit by bit. “But that doesn’t make it true.” 

Vi lays against you for a beat, quiet falling in the intimacy of the kitchen. 

“My whole life, I’ve been a fighter,” Vi finally says, looking up at you. Her eyes are shining over-bright and the pain in her face is easy to read. “That’s what I’m good for. I’m a protector, I’m the muscle… My whole damn career depends on it.” 

You nod, still stroking her hair, waiting for her to continue. 

“When I can’t be that –” Vi’s voice catches, breaks. “If I can’t be that… I don’t know what I am.” 

You smile sadly, kissing her hair again. “First of all, sweetheart, we’re talking about a few days off to recover from a cold, not the end of your career.” You chuckle softly, and Vi’s mouth twitches. 

“And,” you continue, “you are so much more than just a fighter. Sure, you’re tough as hell and an amazing boxer, but that’s not what I love you for. I love you for this, Vi –” you put your hand over her heart, “– not what you do or how many matches you win. I love you because you’re funny and brave and kind and because you care way too much about the people you love. I love you because you’re shit at video games and you laugh at dumb Tiktoks and you give me the best hugs I’ve ever had.” 

You lean in and kiss her lips, germs be damned. “I just love you, Vi Lanes. And I would really love it if you got your sick ass in bed. Got it?” You smirk at her, tenderly brushing hair out her eyes. 

Vi ducks her head, blinking quickly and rubbing a hand over her eyes. But when she looks back up at you, she’s smiling. 

“Did you spend all morning thinking of that little speech?” she grins, raising her eyebrows. 

You laugh and slide off her lap, offering a hand to help her up. “Maybe. Now, bed.” Then you look her up and down and amend, “Well, shower first, then bed.” 

“You saying I stink?” Vi smirks, crossing her arms. 

“I said no such thing.” 

“You implied it.” 

You roll your eyes, lacing your fingers between Vi’s and tugging her toward the bedroom. “Enough arguing, sickie. Get clean and get in bed, those are your orders.” 

Vi laughs softly, following you down the hall. 

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You cannot deny that you’ve lived a sheltered life. As the youngest daughter of the king at only twenty-two, you are free from most of the royal duties and obligations that plague your older sisters. Both of your parents have always seen you as their little darling who can do no wrong, and they rarely say no to you. You’ve been able to lead a relatively carefree life in the safety of the castle, taken care of by a plethora of staff. 

But there is one person who doesn’t have a problem saying no to you. 

Caitlyn puts her hands on her hips, standing tall, her feet firmly planted. “Absolutely not.” 

“Caaaiit,” you whine, pouting. “I’ll wear a cloak! I want to go frolic in the snow for a while. It’s so pretty!” 

Caitlyn doesn’t budge. “No. You’ll catch your death.” 

You roll your eyes and flop down onto a settee dramatically. “You sound like my mother.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, the queen has good sense. Shame you didn’t seem to get any yourself,” Caitlyn says dryly. 

You huff, but you’re not actually offended. If it were any other royal, it would probably be improper for the princess’ personal knight to talk in such a brazen way. But you’ve known each other for years at this point, and Caitlyn feels more like a very protective friend than a staff member to you by now. 

And Caitlyn does not have a problem letting her opinion be known, especially not when it comes to your safety. You think she’s ridiculously overprotective, but you have to admit that a part of you likes how she looks out for you. You’ve found your eyes lingering a lot more on her lately, on the curve of her defined shoulders, or the particular silky blue of her hair. Your heart seems to beat a little faster every time she enters the room. 

“It’s the first snowfall of the season,” you say, looking up at Caitlyn with wide eyes that usually get you whatever you want. Caitlyn doesn’t move an inch. “You know how I love to make angels in the fresh snow!” 

“The tailor has not yet finished your new winter coat,” Caitlyn says firmly. She retrieves a blanket and tucks it around you. “You have a delicate constitution and I won’t have you catching cold. You’ll stay inside where it’s warm until you have the proper clothing.” 

“Delicate constitution,” you grumble, crossing your arms. “I think I’m perfectly hardy, thank you very much.” 

Caitlyn raises a dark eyebrow and says nothing. 

“Fiiinee,” you sigh, flopping back against the pillows. “Can I read a book or is that too strenuous for me, since I’m such a delicate flower?” 

A twitch of Caitlyn’s lips could almost be interpreted as a smile. “I’ll retrieve your novel from the library,” she says, slipping from the room. 

You still plan to sneak out into the snow after everyone has gone to bed for the night, but Caitlyn doesn’t need to know that. You’ll be just fine. 

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“I’m dying,” you moan, laying a hand across your eyes. “I never thought it would end this way.” 

Caitlyn, who’s sitting on the edge of your bed, gives a quiet snort. 

“You are not dying. You’re ill,” she says patiently, more than used to your dramatics by now. She hands you a glass of water. You take a sip and hand it back. 

“With a cold that could have easily been avoided, mind you, had you simply listened to reason,” Caitlyn adds. 

You squint an eye open and grin slightly. “Reason’s no fun, though.” 

Caitlyn gives you a dry look. “And this is?” 

“No,” you admit, wincing after a sharp cough makes your chest hurt. 

Something in Caitlyn’s expression softens, just a fraction. She pours you a cup of tea from the pot on your nightstand, then adds a generous spoonful of honey, stirring it carefully. She checks the temperature of the teacup with the back of her hand before handing it to you. 

“Here, love,” Caitlyn murmurs, helping you sit up a little to drink the tea. “For your throat.” 

You take a sip, giving a grateful hum at the soothing warmth. You look at the woman who hasn’t left your side for nearly two days now and give a tiny sigh. 

“I…I’m sorry you have to look after me. Again.” The playfulness has gone from your voice and you stare down into your amber tea. “I know I can be…a lot.” 

Caitlyn makes a thoughtful noise in her throat. Then, to your surprise, she leans in and kisses you tenderly on the temple. Your head skips a beat. 

“You are not too much for me,” Caitlyn says, tucking a lock of hair behind your cheek. Her lips curve in a lopsided smile. “For someone else – perhaps. But me? Never.” 

Your throat feels oddly thick and you can’t think of what to say to that, so you drink more tea instead. 

Caitlyn rubs your shoulder when you cough again. “Just get well, darling,” she murmurs, pulling up the blanket so it's covering your chest. “Then we’ll return to arguing about good sense,” she smirks. 

You laugh softly. “Fair enough.” 

It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, Caitlyn never leaving your side.