#did my best on mittens

[tribbles-the-lesbian]

🎉Congrats on 2K @lizaisdrawing 🎉

Wallace and Wally meet one of the kitties behind the Tribbles siblings: Mittens!! Truly some movie magic for her to be so calm 0_0

First fake collab that I've ever participated in and I'm glad it's this one!! I love this au and the designs and art style just itches a part of my brain and makes me giddy~

I just want to hug them all as tightly as I can and ramble along with them all!!!

[milkweedman]

guy who is about 6 weeks deep into a forum post on which way beaver fur should lay when making gloves with no clear good answer: wow i am glad i bought a beaver pelt this can only go perfectly with no problems

[somethingsomethingrenga]

I really wanted to draw them in Miya's school uniform :3 Also baby version, because middle schoolers are basically babies to me anyways

Poor Langa forgot he doesn't need his winter wear at his new school - but Reki saw they were both wearing green and decided they were besties!

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hiii I really love the one with the harbingers where reader calls them words of endearment from their homeland, can you do one where reader cooks for them food from their homeland? pantalone's part was so cute <33

✦ You cook them their favorite home meal, based on their homeland

(Or trying to guess what food the not-yet-playable characters might like based on their region, culture, or language. ) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ It is to no one’s surprise that Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, would easily drop everything to grant your needs. Just blink and the world’s spoils are at your feet, bestowed by your beloved. Expensive clothing, jewelry, art pieces, weaponry, or lavish dishes. With his money and status, plus being a connoisseur of the ancient lores of Teyvat, The Jester can easily acquire anything you require on a silver platter. 

But this time, it was you who tried to gift him something on a silver platter.

On an unsuspecting day, Pierro returned home only to be greeted with a strong scent of baked goods. The smell wafted all around the living quarters, warm and sugary. Glancing curiously, the Jester marched to the kitchen, where he found you grumbling to yourself. You stood with your oven mittens, a tray of voluptuous Kanelbullar presented in front of him; some were cut as you tried to take an analytical bite of the cinnamon rolls.

“Trying your hands at familiar recipes, my cherished?” - The man asked with a welcoming glance while you mulled and judged the taste of your cooked goods.

“Ah, Pierro, you’re right on time. Here, try this one for me. Does it resemble traditional cinnamon rolls?”

When the Jester took a bite, even his icy eye widened for a moment. A wave of nostalgia and warmth lanced his memories, ones he thought were long forgotten. The cinnamon rolls you baked were not the average confectionaries one could easily purchase, as the taste resembled traditional Khaenri’ahn Kanelbullar. A simple treat that all children and adults used to enjoy in their free time.  

“Well…? Oh no, don’t tell me it’s that bad?” - you awaited his response, but Pierro quickly shook his head.

“It’s rich and potent in taste, but not too sugary. Just like the ones in our Homeland… I didn’t think replicating such intricacies was possible. What did you add this time?”

Your eyes light up. Finally, some progress. “Really? I’ve been mulling over it for hours, I thought my taste pallet was going numb. I tried to find any local ingredients that might add the flavor of saffron and cardamon.”

“Like the golden Saffron…? They were a local specialty back in Khaenri’ah. Although some variants exist in Teyvat’s soil, they are not used as cooking ingredients here.” - Pierro pondered, amazed at your ability to combine other local spices to imitate the taste of the past.

As both of you mulled over how to achieve the most accurate results for these traditional Cinnamon Rolls, half of the tray was already gone.

“Although now that I think about it, my divine, I don’t think it would be an issue to send an expedition to obtain that rare spice for you. Especially if the result is such exquisite home pastry.”

✧ In this house, Il Capitano is the master chef. The man is proficient in the art of survival, thus, his skills in outdoor cooking are especially shown. From simple meat and vegetables, the Captain can come up with the best meat skewers you ever ate. Not to mention the topic of sustenance and growth is intertwined with a good diet. A man his size and capabilities puts immense care into outdoor survival and health.

But even a strong Captain deserves some spoiling for his hard work. 

After a wearying day spent honing the skills of his Fatui troops, a group of soldiers that will prepare for an upcoming expedition, Il Capitano was greeted with a surprise visit from you. You arrived right on time for their break, and as always, the Fatui soldiers couldn't help but eavesdrop on the Harbinger’s exchange with his beloved…

“I brought you your meal for today, Bife de chorizo. You need lots of protein.”

“Thank you.” - The Captain stood obediently, holding the lunchbox you brought.

“With Pico de Gallo and avocados. I also put some almonds and walnuts as a snack.”

“I understand.” 

“You are preparing for another important expedition. You must take care of your body after such intensive training, Cappy.”

“You are right, you are right.”

“And I don’t want to see anything left from the lunch boxes. Make sure to eat all of it, okay?”

“Understood!”

It sure was a sight. One would think the Harbinger was the student as he stood nodding vehemently while you scolded him. With one hand on your hip, you gave him an earful as you checked up on him, generously providing him a full-course meal neatly packed in a mealbox.

The Fatui soldiers were slightly jealous. Even they could easily tell that behind that pitch-black helmet, Il Capitano was absolutely joyous to have his beloved visit him and provide such mouthwatering nourishment. 

✧ Today, you were ready to tackle and kill Il Dottore. Why? Because that man barged into your kitchen and confidently announced himself as the culinarian for today’s dinner. A simple and kind gesture, right? You would rather starve than have The Doctor implode your kitchen again.

“Stop exaggerating as if I let your Serenitea Pot house crumble. It was just a little fire.” - Dottore defended himself, watching closely as you made him stand back from the stove. 

“I had to replace the whole walls, Zandik!”

The two of you stood in the kitchen, with the Harbinger peeking from behind your shoulders as you claimed dominion over the frying pan. The whole day, he was made watching you prepare Sumeru Kibbeh meatballs, since the last time he decided to dabble in the art of cooking, your house was put at stake.

He was a scholar, not a chef, unfortunately. But The Doctor is not ashamed to admit his impatience and lack of skill in the kitchen. Hence, he helped you as much as he could while you diligently taught him how Kibbeh is properly made. He remained silent but pleasantly subservient. The sight of your sleeves raised, hands tactfully molding the Kibbeh was oddly amiable. Especially when your face was so focused on the task, he couldn’t help but stare. 

Yet every time you fried the meatballs and set them aside on a pan lined with paper towels to drain, a sneaky hand would try to steal some. You’d slap his hand away.

“Nope. Hands off! Wait till dinner”

“They’ll end up being consumed anyway. I’ll just have a small tas-”

Slap!

And it continued for a long while, all the way to the end once you finished cooking. When the two of you finally sat down and began eating, Dottore would often remain silent. You were too busy relishing the dish, unaware of the Harbinger’s appreciation for your home-cooked meal. Sustenance is just a waste of time that the human body must go through to gain its energy. But it’s not the same when he is sitting with you casually, the warm afternoon sunlight wrapping the dining table, and the warm food steaming with an appetizing aroma.

For him, eating with you was different. It was simple, but it was home. 

✧ Scaramouche may huff and scoff all he wants, but when it comes to appraising your Unagi Chazuke, no master can compete with you. Perhaps because he is a puppet, but Scaramouche has a delicate pallet. He despises strong flavors and always preferred simpler dishes, to appreciate the unique flavor of a singular ingredient. He would never admit it vocally, but he would often crave your chazukes, and it was easily written on his grumbling face.

“Come on, just say it.”

The Balladeer lamented.

“Say it. My home cooking is the best, and you just want me to cook for you today.”

“...I won’t. I don’t have use in consuming any human meals.” - he mumbled in response, arms crossed. You sighed and with a wide smile, you turned away.

“Oh well. Guess you don’t want any, huh…? And here I thought I could prepare your favorite Unagi Chazuke today. But I guess it’s foolish-”

“No, Wait-!” - The Harbinger wished to bite his tongue but it was too late. He already called out to you in a moment of weakness, and your goofy grin only widened with his desperation. 

He gave up. With reluctant embarrassment, the Balladeer admitted your victory - “If you may… Can you prepare another one of your signature Chazuke? Please.”

And that’s how you two ended up by the dinner table. You couldn’t just deny him after such a heartfelt request. You prepared the unagi meat and rice diligently, showing him how to prepare green tea to add mild bitterness to the salted rice. Topping off with some dried Nori leaves, and sesame - two bows of Unagi Chazuke were ready and looking artistically grandiose.

Light and sublime, that’s what Scaramouche thought. A true definition of soul food, as he held his bowl and chopsticks close. A rare but sincere smile would always grace his features whenever he ate your cooking, but he of course would conceal it by clearing his throat.

“Hm, okay fine. Maybe your cooking is adequate after all. Especially when you don’t make it too sweet.”

You’d laugh at his reaction. At the end of the day, it was you who taught him how to cook what later would become his signature dish, even if his identity as a Harbinger was wiped away. 

✧ Being the richest man in Teyvat like Pantalone means dealing with lots of bureaucracies and business. Sometimes, after a prolonged day in the office, the sight of stacked papers becomes dreadful and negotiations with the Snezhnayan elites may go fruitless. Thus, The Regrator would often slum by his desk, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and sigh in exhaustion.

Now what would the richest man in Teyvat do to relax after a bad day at work? Go to the most expensive five-star restaurant? Perhaps purchase a fancy drink that costs more than his subordinates' monthly salary? No. He would head straight back home, where he knows you are awaiting him with open arms.

A single look at him and you would know he is fatigued. Leaning up to embrace him, you plant a tender kiss on his cheek - “How about I make us a quick snack, hm? You can go and take a shower in the meantime.”

Pantalone would try to conjure up a faint smile and nod. As he winds down for the day, subconsciously he knows your home cooking is like a balm to his soul. No matter how many exquisite restaurants he tried, he’d easily sacrifice all of them for a bite-full of your culinary.

And here you are, merrily handing him his childhood favorite - Mora Meat Roujiamo. A simple meat sandwich, but a staple street food in Liyue’s culture. That’s all the Harbinger desires after a tough day at work, as he gobbles the sandwich wrapped with a paper towel.

“Made your favorites. I added some extra meat since I know you like it juicy.” - you gave Pantalone soothing pats on the back as he ate up.

“You’re a lifesaver, honey. You would not believe how frustrating work has been today,”

Pantalone would rant and confide in you about his work. He would rather do that than delve into the nostalgic feeling that Mora Meat sandwiches gave him. It was indeed his childhood favorite. Yet it also reminded him how in the distant past, when food or money was scarce, starvation and desperation were his only companions as a lowly child. Thus, on better days when he acquired some change just to purchase simple Mora Meat - these sandwiches felt like a king’s feast.

Such an unadorned dish, but one that brought warmth and sustenance to a starved child, telling him that everything would be okay. Today, this starved child is the richest man in Snezhnayan. Nevertheless, he still relished these sandwiches from your hands like divine wealth, telling himself once more that everything would be okay. 

✧ Tartaglia was bedbound for some while, bandaged heavily after a massive battle he faced during one of his missions. The young Harbinger would never tell his family where his scars hail from, except for you and his father maybe. But after an earful of scolding, you took care of your reckless boyfriend and sighed.

“You made me worried, you know. I don’t want to see you move a muscle around the house these days, are we clear? You must recover first.”

“Y-yes, captain.” - Childe chuckled humorously, suppressing the soreness his cuts provided around his body. “It’s just… there is only one remedy that could save a fallen soldier like me.”

“Hm? What is it? Do you need something, Ajax?” 

“Please, dear… come closer.” - he said with a pained expression. 

You did so he could whisper to you what he wanted. Your concern was only heightened, oblivious that his dramatic words were playing you - “The secret to my healing… is…”

“Yes?” - you leaned even closer.

“... Some yummy food.”

You blinked at him, and Tartaglia immediately gained a comically “passed out” expression on his face, as if your cooking were his last death wish. You let him plop to the pillow and gritted your teeth - “Why you little-...! Ugh, you’re lucky I am worried about you. You just want me to pamper you.”

“Oh, come on, is that such an unrealistic request? You told me not to move a muscle and I would receive your scolding no matter what. Please, sweetheart, just anything you would like - cook it and I would happily gobble it up!”

You crossed your arms. You hate to admit it, but his puppy eyes were working effectively and if his appetite was returning, that means he is on a good path of recovery anyway.

“Fine… I’ll make something nutritious and easy for your stomach.”

Tartaglia's eyes lightened up in an instant. He was a simple man - if you cooked him something, he would drop on his knees for you instantly. That day, you pondered whether you’d make him some Piroshki or Borscht, but he needed something light. His health was your priority, after all. Even though Childe fancied himself a master at concealing his painful whinces, you are no fool. You always notice them.

Thus, your beloved was presented with Ukha fish soup. A warm bowl with fresh herbs, imported calla lily, and nutritious fish.

“Easy now, I know you like Calla Lily Seafood Soup, since you often had it in Liyue… So I decided to go with the local version of it. Now make sure to eat all of it, or you won’t feel better.”

Like an obedient child, Ajax felt pampered and delighted. Lunch by the bed? His sweetheart feeding him? The injuries were worth it as he happily ate the Ukha fish soup.

“If getting injured makes me taste food more worthy than the gods themselves, maybe I should get wounded more often, haha- Ow!”

Your response was another fistful nudge to his shoulder.  

Kanelbullar - in Swedish, Cinnamon Rolls Bife de chorizo - in Spanish, Argentinian beef cut Pico de Gallo - in Spanish, Mexican salsa/dip Kibbeh - in Arabic, bulgur parcel stuffed with minced meat filling (in Genshin, they just called it meatballs lol) Chazuke - in Japanese, green tea poured over a rice meal (Scara's signature dish)  Mora Meat - had to look this one up, apparently Genshin is referencing RouJiaMo (肉夹馍) meaning “meat in a bun". Ukha fish soup - in Russian, also known as fisherman’s soup. Childe’s signature Calla Lily Seafood Soup is probably a variation made with Gēng found in Chinese cuisine. But there is a Slavic variation that reminded me of his signature dish. 

[hanniebaeee]

Lil' Lix - Christmas Love

Pixie Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: Nothing other than lots of fluffy flufff!

Genre: fantasy au!, established relationship, FLUFFFF!

Summary: Winter is here, and it's also Felix's first Christmas with you!

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

a/n: I don't know if I've ever written such a fluffy thing ever 😅 Pixie Felix is a weakness, and this one is very close to my heart... Enjoy!!

Part 1

For someone who once lived in a magical, sunlit glade, winter in a concrete jungle was literally a nightmare for Felix, your pixie lover. He was currently swaddled in a cocoon of blankets, being dramatic as hell.

His cute freckled nose peeked out as he glanced at you, giving a pitiful sniffle.

"Y/N," Felix whined, his voice muffled. "This is it. When I’m gone, will you cry pretty tears for me? Will you make a little shrine to honor our love?”

“Babe, you’re not dying.” You said with a grin. “You’re just melodramatic.”

“No, I’m serious,” he insisted, glaring at you with the last shred of his dignity. “The frost has claimed me. This winter will be my end.”

You sighed, brushing a strand of his golden hair back. He was up in a second, his shimmery wings fluttering as he moved to nestled into your neck. He rubbed his face against your warm skin and you flinched as his cold nose grazed you.

"Felix!"

"You’re so warm," he murmured, his lips brushing against you. "Did you eat a fire crystal as a child? Are you secretly a fire spirit?!"

"No, I’m just not tiny, Lixie," you said, nudging him gently.

Felix huffed, crossing his arms, mumbling, “Lucky you.”

---

Though you joked about this, you knew Felix was genuinely struggling with the cold, and every night his icy little hands and feet snuggled against you, making you jump with the chills.

You had to come up with something (no Barbie clothes didn't help, thank you), so that his threats of “using the last of his magic to ignite himself” could be taken off the scene.

That’s when you had a brilliant idea - knit him some clothes.

You pulled up a beginner’s YouTube tutorial, grabbed some yarn, and got to work. It wasn’t pretty. The first few attempts were disastrous. But then, things got better. You couldn't help but squeal in delight, because it was just that cute!

Felix, perched on a spool of yarn, watched your progress with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, looking at the long needles in your hands with suspicion.

“Making you clothes,” you said, focused on a particularly tricky stitch.

“Wait, you can make clothes?” He tilted his head, a strand of golden hair falling into his freckled face. “Like, you don’t just summon them or something?”

“Baby, have you seen me summon anything?”

Felix tapped his chin. “You've got a point. Carry on, my love.”

---

After a few days of hard work, you held up your creations: tiny sweaters, hats, mittens, socks, and even a scarf. They weren’t perfect - one mitten was slightly bigger than the other, and the beanie did look a little weird - but they were warm and made with love.

“Y/N, these are… these are…” Felix’s voice cracked, and he placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “Is this what love feels like?”

“Come here, you drama queen. Let’s try these on.” You laughed, holding up a sweater.

He hovered in front of you, wings fluttering as you slid the sweater over his head (you even made slits for his wings). The snug fabric hugged his tiny frame, and his freckled cheeks glowed pink as you tugged the beanie into place.

“Well?” you asked, sitting back to admire your work.

Felix spun in the air, his hands running over the soft yarn.

“I love it! I love it!! It's so warm!!” Felix sang in happiness. “I'm not cold anymore!!”

“You look like a cozy little marshmallow, Lixie” you teased, and he grinned brightly before flying straight into your face and cupping your cheeks with his tiny hands.

“You did all this for me? Y/N, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Like, ever.” he said gazing into your eyes lovingly.

“Anything for you, baby,” you said, his sincerity making your heart swell.

He pressed kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your lips, so many all at once.

“I love you so much. You’re so smart and sexy -”

“And a terrible knitter,”

“No, no. You’re a brilliant knitter. These are perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not allowed to ever leave me.” Felix announced, pressing a soft kiss on your upper lip. “Ever.”

“Wow. Bold.” you said, raising your eyebrows.

“You love me,” Felix said smugly, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “I really do.”

You usually put up a fake tree. Easier to manage and all that. But this year, you decided to bring in a real tree, because you wanted Felix to have a really authentic experience. His first ever Christmas. So you go out with your friend Minho and get one.

The tree stood tall in the corner of your living room, its fresh pine scent filling the air.

Fairy lights were strewn across the floor, and the table was piled up with ornaments, tinsel, and glittery decorations. Felix’s eyes glittered with joy as he eyed all the sparkly decorations like they were treasure.

“Wait, so people just… bring a tree inside their house for this holiday?” Felix asked, hovering in front of you with wide, curious eyes. “And decorate it with shiny stuff?”

“Yes,” you said with a laugh, untangling the lights. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

Felix held up a glittery star ornament that was almost as big as he was.

“This is amazing!” he sang, clutching the star to his chest.

“Well, I did pick the sparkliest ones for you,” you teased, glancing over at him. “I thought you’d like them.”

“I love them. This is already my favorite holiday!!”

---

Once the lights were finally untangled, Felix took it upon himself to help string them around the tree. And he also wanted to hang the ornaments (he didn't want to part with the glittery stars and baubles).

He zoomed around the tree, carefully hanging them, occasionally stopping to admire his work.

“Do they have to be evenly spaced?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Well, not really…”

“Great, because I’m putting all the shiny ones in one spot,” he announced, clustering the most glittery ornaments on a single branch.

“Felix, no!”

“But it looks so sparkly!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he held up another ornament. He was glowing - his eyes twinkling under the fairy lights. It was impossible to scold him when he looked so genuinely happy.

When he was finally done, it was time for the tree topper.

“This goes on the very top. Do you want to do the honors?” you asked, handing him the golden star.

He grinned and took the star, clutching it like it was the most precious thing in the world. He flitted up to the top of the tree, and carefully placed the star.

“All done!” he called, before flying back to admire the sparkling tree. “Y/N, this is amazing.”

“I'm so glad you liked it, Lixie.” You said with a smile. “Your first Christmas should be absolutely magical,”

Felix floated back down to you, his tiny hands resting on your cheeks. “You’re magical.”

“Oh, please,” you said, laughing as you blushed under his adoring gaze.

“No, I mean it,” he said softly. “You didn’t have to do all this, but you did. You brought a whole tree into our home just so I could experience this holiday with you. You’re the best, baby.”

You cupped his tiny hands in yours, smiling.

“And you make everything feel magical, Felix. So, I guess we’re even.”

Spending Christmas with Felix had been a truly beautiful experience, because he was in awe of absolutely everything. The food, the hot chocolate (which he demanded every ten minutes, because why not), the snow and obviously, the tree.

And then came the gifts. Felix snuggled closer to your neck in his knitted sweater, vibrating with excitement. His wings fluttered so fast as you reached for the little package you knew he had put under the trees last night.

“Open it, open it!” he chirped, his cheeks glowing.

You smiled, carefully unwrapping the small, neatly tied package. When the paper fell away, you gasped.

Inside was a necklace - a delicate pendant shaped like a heart, intricately carved from what looked like wood but felt so smooth and otherworldly. Within its center, nestled in a cavity of swirling patterns, was a tiny, glimmering stone. When light caught it just right, it shimmered.

“Felix…” Your voice was barely a whisper as you turned to him, wide-eyed. “This is… this is pixie magic, isn’t it?”

Felix looked shy but proud, scratching the back of his head as his wings fluttered nervously.

“Yes,” he admitted softly. “It’s not much - nothing like the magic I could make back home. But I’ve been working on it for a while. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Your heart squeezed. You knew how difficult it was for him to conjure magic in the city, so far from his enchanted home. It drained him and left him fatigued to use his magic. This pendant wasn’t just a gift; it was his love.

“It’s more than perfect,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. You slipped the necklace over your head, the pendant settling against your chest snugly. “Felix, this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Before he could respond, you leaned in, cupping his tiny face in your hands and pressing a soft, lingering kiss on top of his head. Felix’s wings fluttered madly as his cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

“Okay, your turn!” you said, grinning as you placed a larger, carefully wrapped box in front of him.

Felix blinked, his pink cheeks still flushed from your kiss. “For me?”

“Of course. Go on, open it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With his tiny hands, he tore through the wrapping paper, his curiosity growing with every layer he peeled back. When he finally lifted the lid, his reaction was epic.

He froze and his mouth fell open, because inside the box was a miniature garden - a lush, vibrant fairy garden filled with tiny plants.

There were cuttings of honeysuckle, foxglove, thyme, and other herbs and flowers you’d researched and found to be dear to pixies. Patches of soft, rich moss filled the gaps, creating a miniature glade that looked as if it had been plucked straight from Felix’s home in the woods.

Felix’s hands trembled as he reached out to touch the moss.

“This… this is…” His voice broke, and you could see that he was trying to keep tears from falling.

“I know you miss home, Lixie,” you said softly. “I tried to make it as close to it as I could. I thought maybe this could help...till we find a way...”

“You made this?” Felix turned to you, his honey-brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Yes, baby,” you said, your heart aching to see the pain in his eyes. “You deserve to feel at home, Felix.”

He let out a shaky laugh, clutching a tiny cutting of honeysuckle to his chest.

“You knit for me. You make me hot chocolate. You let me take over your Christmas tree. And now this?” His wings fluttered wildly again as he shook his head in disbelief. “You’re… you’re perfect. I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, laughing softly.

“No, seriously,” Felix insisted, floating up to meet your gaze. “You’re my wife now. That’s it. Decision made. I don’t care what human traditions you have - we’re married.”

You burst out laughing, cupping your hand around him to gently hug his tiny frame. “Oh, we are, aren't we?”

“Yes!” he declared, his freckled cheeks glowing again. “You’re mine. Forever. I’m never letting you go.”

But the best gift of all?

Waking up to the sound of soft singing. It took you a moment to realize the voice was coming from your balcony. Sleepily, you shuffled over and peeked through the glass door, careful not to make a sound.

There he was - Felix, hovering over one of your plants that, its leaves glistening with dew. Felix was holding a tiny little watering can - you’d put it in his garden as you'd made it - and carefully collecting drops of dew from the larger potted plants.

He tilted the can to sprinkle water gently over the moss and flowers in his garden, his movements slow and careful.

“Good morning, honeysuckle,” he sang, brushing a tiny hand over a leaf. “You’re looking lovely today. And you, foxglove -”

His voice was warm and full of love as he spoke, and he sang softly in a language you didn’t recognize. It was so melodic, weaving through the air like a magical breeze.

Your heart clenched at the sight. He was so utterly devoted to his little world, the kind of magic you couldn’t put into words, the kind that made you want to hold him tight and never let go.

With a soft smile, you made your way back to bed, because your heart was full knowing that he was happy. And you drifted off to sleep again feeling completely blessed.

Tags: @velvetmoonlght @moonchild9350

[dylsluvrs]

ryomen sukuna x reader | college au [18+]

touchdown ch.2 boundary king!

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 chapter. 2/?

ᡣ𐭩 word count. 1.5k

ᡣ𐭩 a/n. hi my babies!! official chapter 2 of touchdown is out now! i’ve had a lot of uni assignments to do so i haven’t been able to update, but i’m done for christmas as on the 17th so i’ll have more time to write! i hope you all enjoy this chapter and pls know all your reblogs mean so much to me!!

nav. masterlist

Your hands shook steadily from the cold of the November air, your mind having skipped over the mittens laying on your dresser ready to be worn, thus leading to your predicament. You struggled holding onto the files, notebooks and tape recorders you needed for the day’s interviews, and your brain was so scattered you didn’t register the sight before you. The football field. The exact place you were looking to avoid after last night’s run in with the king of assholes. “Hey! Princess!”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You began to move quicker, willing your legs to carry you as far away from the football field as humanly possible. But he was quicker. he caught up to you instantly, with a tap on your shoulder. You spun around, and there he stood, his signature cocky smirk gracing his lips as he stared down at you. “What do you want, Sukuna?” His smirk twisted into a scowl at your attitude. He huffed, taking a side glance towards the rest of the team packing up their gear to leave practice. “Come on, l/n. I told you I needed a favour.”

“And I told you i’m not interested. Get one of the sorority girls to do it.”

“You and I both know if I give one of those bitches a chance, they’re gonna think it’s real. I need someone who won’t get attached.” As much as you wanted to let out a snarky comment at that, there was logic in what he was saying. You wouldn’t be interested in Sukuna if he was the last man on Earth. So instead, you let out a resigned sigh, finally meeting his gaze. “What’s in it for me?”

“You wanna interview the team, right? I’ll make it happen.” Your breath hitched, and you hoped he didn’t notice. (He did.) You’d been wanting to interview the football team for your class for months, and the only person you could get to agree was Satoru, under the ‘best friend privilege’ category.

“Does that include you?” You needed the captain to be in on this or you may as well not bother with the rest of the team. “I’ll be first in line, princess.” You rolled your eyes at the pet name, but held your hand out anyway. “Okay. I’ll do it. But we need rules, Sukuna. I’m not doing this without them.” He kissed his teeth, but nodded nonetheless. And thus came about the rules of your game.

Princess and Sukuna’s Rules:

1. Attend all parties together

> attend most parties together

2. Minimal PDA - hugs, hand holding, ass grabbing, SOME GROPING

3. NO KISSING!!!!

“Are you fucking kidding? Have you ever been to a party? No one in this fucking place is gonna believe this shit if we don’t make out at parties.” The urge to punch him was getting stronger as your arguments about the rules went on, and you were close to losing your shit with him. “It’s non-negotiable, Sukuna. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. No fucking kissing.” His hands fell across his face, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. “Okay, I’ve got another one. You can’t flirt with other girls like Ronnie did in can’t buy me love. It’s gonna be too obvious this is fake if you do that.”

“What the fuck is can’t buy me love?” Your jaw dropped. This son of a bitch didn’t know one of the greatest love stories of all time. “Are you kidding? How have you never seen that movie? It’s pretty much the same thing as what we’re doing, but Ronnie, who’s the nerd version of you, gets too big for his boots and starts trying to fuck Cindy’s friends, and that’s how everyone finds out it was all bullshit.”

“So you’re getting possessive over me already?” His smirk only grew as he looked at your flushed cheeks, and you could feel the tips of your ears burning under his gaze. “You want everyone to know this is a load of shit? No fucking flirting. And no snitching.”

“First rule of fight club, princess.” Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He could see the confusion in your eyes and it only served to anger him.

“You’ve never seen fight club? Right it down, woman. I’m so making you watch it.” He ripped the notebook from your hands, scribbling down ‘make princess watch fight club’. In turn, you snatched the notebook back from him, your neat handwriting a stark contrast to his. ‘make asshole watch can’t buy me love.’ You both nodded. A silent agreement that a movie night was in order for the two of you.

“You drive?” You shook your head without looking up from your notebook, beginning to draw small doodles hearts around the words to pass the time. “I’ll pick you up for my games. Got a practice jersey you can wear.” You nodded, a quiet agreement that this should be added to the list of rules. You begin to write it down, before stopping in your tracks. “Wait, when are your games?”

“Friday nights, why? Got something better to do?” He had a teasing grin on his face. He knew what the answer would be. He’d seen you creeping out of Gojo’s room in the early hours of friday mornings before. “I work till five, is that okay?” He nodded, stuffing some chips in his mouth that he’d stolen from your bag.

“Games don’t start till seven, girl. Thought you’d know all this, miss journalist.” You huffed, ripping the chips away from him and eating them yourself, a sly smirk on your lips. “They were on saturdays at five last year, asshole.”

“I’m impressed. I still think we gotta kiss though, princess. Make it real believable.”

“Choke.” You grinned at him. His eyes narrowed but you could see the slightly playful glint hiding behind his red irises.

“Fine. But you gotta let me at least grab your ass. I’m a physical guy.” You offered him the rest of the chips, slightly smiling at the way his laidback expression faltered into happiness at the sight of food. “You can grab my ass all you want, Sukuna. It’s probably the only time in your life you’ll touch one that isn’t made of silicone.”

“Ouch, babe. I don’t like fake girls. The fake girls like me. All girls like me.” You scoffed, placing your notebook in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. He followed suit, throwing his gear bag over his body and following you away from the football field. “There’s a party tonight, you gotta come. First step to making everyone think we’re fucking. I’ll take you with me, sit you all pretty on my lap, get everyone thinking you’re my girl.”

“Okay. My roommates going so i’ll get a ride with her and see you there, yeah?” He nodded along with what you were saying, constantly tugging the strap of his gear bag from under his armpit. “Sounds good, princess. Who’d you wanna interview from the team first? Me?”

“I’m gonna leave you until last, if that’s okay? I wanna go for Geto first, he’s probably got the most going on with the tattoo shop, the team and being an art major.”

“Make an order, send it to me, i’ll get it done. You won’t get no problems from the guys.” You smiled, before leaning over to grab his face, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek, leaving a bright lipstick mark just under his cheekbone. His hand instinctively went around your waist, as his head tried to turn to capture your lips with his. “What the fuck?”

“Look to your right. No! Don’t make it obvious, asshole!” His eyes fell to his right, spotting Choso and Nanami not too far from the two of you, watching you with surprised eyes. “Gotta make it believable right? Speaking of…I need a nickname for you. No girl calls their boyfriend by their last name.”

His eyes narrowed. There was only two nicknames he ever went by, and one of those, you definitely weren’t allowed to use. The other, appointed to him by the rest of the team, and commentators watching the games. The king of curses.

“Just use my first name.” You groaned, wrapping your arm around his bicep as you walked when you realised the two team members were still watching the two of you. “Ryomen is such a mouthful.”

He smirked down at you. “Damn right I am.” You shoved his chest with a small laugh bubbling in your own. “What about Ryo?” He hated the way he enjoyed the sound of the nickname rolling off of your tongue. It made him think how he could get you to say it more often. And how desperately he wanted to hear you say it in a sickly sweet voice as you fell apart—NO!

“Okay, princess. You can call me Ryo. I’ll see you at the party, yeah?” You nodded, giving him one final kiss on the cheek, ignoring the tingle it sent down your spine.

“See you later, Ryo.”

taglist: @kyo-kyo1 @kenmacantakemeaway @coldluminarykoala @sukubusss @clp-84 @ieathairs @toratsue @mocha-the-muse @livinggxd3adgirl @gojoscumsluttt @sukuxna0 @gaychaosgremlin

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In The Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, social dejection, mentions of religion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your Christmas is set to be a lonely one, but you do your best to share the cheer with your only friend.

Character: Arvin Russell

Day Seven of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - cottage!core 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The tension is something you’ll never be used to. The silence is as bad as the hushed voices and the sneering side looks. It's all so suffocating. 

So much as you might’ve earned your judgement, it cannot make them righteous. What was it the pastor extolled; ‘let he who be without sin...’ And why is it that the stones they cast are aimed at you and not the man who joined you in your misdeed? The very one who cozened you into the act?  

Henry still sits on the town council, he still goes home to his wife and other children, he still gets a ‘good morning’ or a ‘good day’, and none bat a single eye along the pew. You can’t even get the same from him these days. He’s a stranger now that your dresses are too tight and your gait is wider and wobbly. Now that his adultery has grown inside of you and continues to, he runs from it. 

You pay at the counter for your meagre fare. Janie fired you not long after the minister’s scolding and none-so-subtle remonstrance of straying innocence. Like your mother and father, she abandoned you to your dejection. You would not stain her Christian mantle. 

The shopkeep, Ted, packs up your goods in the bag without a word. He drops your change on the counter and turns away as you gather it up. Despite that, you still thank him. You lift the bag and hug it above your bump. 

You keep your head down as Esther steps up to the counter with her basket. She makes a comment about the holiness of the coming holidays. Of how Jesus’ birthday should be kept sacred. You know she means you to hear but you don’t show that you do. 

You step out into the chilly winds as they swirl around with a gust of powder. You nearly collide with another as you do. The chuckle that comes with the near-catastrophe eases your nerves. In an instant, the weight is scooped out of your arms. 

“There ya’are,” Arvin greets. He’s the only person in town who talks to you.  

In fact, he’s the only reason you have a place to lay your head. He did up his old shed so you could live there for a while. A barter you insisted on. What would people think if you accepted his invitation to stay in the spare room? Surely worse than the already do. He does not deserve to be tainted by you. 

“You all done for the day?” You ask as you keep your arms crossed. 

“Oh yeah,” he answers brightly, “what’d you get? Anything good...” he sniffs the top of the bag, “I smell cinnamon.” 

You chew your lip, “yeah...” 

You glance at him. He wears his fleece lined denim jacket, the collar greyed with age and a button missing on the right chest pocket. It’s not really enough for that kinda cold. Knockemstiff lives up to its name quite often and the winter will be sure to freeze your bones. 

“Sorry, I’m being nosy,” he chuckles. “You want some candy? Got some in my pocket. Mr. Callahan sent them in with Edwin.” 

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you blow into your woolen mittens. It’s bitter these days. “Um, I was hopin’... I could make ya dinner tonight. Since ya done so much for me. ��Fraid I don’t got much else to give right now.” 

“That’d be awfully nice,” he accepts with a bounce in his step, “here.” He shifts the weight of the bag into one arm and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a long shape wrapped in brown paper, the top twisted and tied with ribbon. “Butterscotch.” 

“Arvin, I told ya--” 

“I got lots,” he insists. 

You take it with a thank you. You continue down the packed snow. He’s entirely oblivious to the way Charmain passes with a glare but you feel it in your chest. 

“I was thinking, before the baby comes,” you swallow as the thought bubbles up from the pits of constant dread. “I should leave.” 

“Leave?” He wonders aloud. He looks over at you as snow gathers in his hair, the cold nipping pink his cheeks. He’s two years older than you but looks and seems much younger than you. “Where to?” 

“I got an Aunt a few townships over. She’s the only one still answering my letters. She never had no kids of her own. They all... none of ‘em made it, ya know? I been writing to her and that.” 

“Oh,” his disappointment tweaks in his throat. “Well, you don’t gotta, you know? I don’t mind ya stickin’ ‘round.” 

“I mind. You been so kind already. Once I got the babe, no one gonna take me then neither. No work here, and I’ll be lucky to get a pew on Sundays.” 

“Yeah, well, all these folks be saying they’re godly and how do they act?” His tone edges hotly. “Ain’t godly to turn a soul out. My mama always said so. No soul’ll make it through this world with a dent or two, but the lord’ll forgive.” 

“Mm, she sounds like a nice lady,” you say. 

“She was,” he sniffs. “And so I wouldn’t be puttin’ no shame on her memory by bein’ selfish, ya know? So’s as long as you need it, the shed is yours. I told ya, though, there’s a room inside.” 

“No, no,” you loosen the ribbon and peek inside the paper. The candy stick of twisted sugar is all shades of caramelly brown. You smell it and it plucks at your bottomless hunger. “I don’t mind it. Pa never had the stove goin’ less the snow was past our knees. He always says, if you’re cold, put another sweater on.” 

“Huh,” he scoffs darkly. 

“What?” 

“Yer pa’s the reason you’re in my shed,” he harrumphs. “Sorry for sayin’ it, but I wouldn’t take no advice from a man who’d disown his own blood. He’s the one brought Henry ‘round. They still gettin’ drinks down at the tank.” 

That information is more chilling than the cold. You didn’t know that. You try not to hear things about your father or the man who put this curse in you. 

“I...” he begins crisply, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t gonna tell ya.” 

“Woulda found out soon enough,” you shrug and shove the butterscotch stick in your mouth. You suck on it pensively. It’s sweet but you can hardly enjoy it as your eyes burn with a glaze of tears. 

“So,” he coughs, “what’s for dinner?” 

You pop your lip off the candy, “it’s a surprise,” you say. 

“Oh, I like surprises,” he smiles, not that he ever really stops. Not around you. 

“Well, I hope you like this one,” you drone. 

💝 

You wash the plates from dinner as dessert bakes in the oven. The smell of cinnamon fills the house as you hear Arvin tinkering in the next room. He’s always messing around with something mechanical. You’re not always sure if he’s fixing them or just taking them apart. 

You dry and stack the dishes away. The old house is cozy, quaint. You know it belonged to his parents. It’s still strewn with their memories. As if he’s preserving them in those walls. So you do your best not to disturb it. 

You take the pan out of the oven. The rolled-out dough is perfectly baked and the colour is pristine. The shape resembles their namesake; elephant ears. It’s only dough, sugar, and cinnamon, but so so delicious. Your grandmother used to make them. Despite your current predicament, you’re nostalgic for the simper days. 

You put one on a plate and peek at the doorway. You pause to dig out the parcel you hid under the sink then bring both items out to the front room. You keep the latter behind your back as you approach Arvin. He sits on the floor in front of the burning firestove as he pokes at an old clock with a screwdriver. 

“Here ya go,” you offer him the dessert. “I could make some coffee or tea?” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he puts down the clock and tool, then wipes his hand on the cloth draped over his knee. He reaches up to the take the plate. “Smells good.” He brings the dish down to examine the pastry, “what is it?” 

“Called an elephant ear. Not super fancy.” 

“Looks good,” he grins. “And what’s that?” 

He lifts the baked dough and bites into it as he angles his head as if to see around you. You bring your hand out and present the parcel. 

“Merry Christmas,” you say. “I know it’s not much, and a bit early but it’s gettin’ real cold.” 

He places the plate on the rug and claps his hands off as he chews. His dark eyes sparkle as he takes the bundle wrapped in brown paper. He brings it over his lap and carefully unties the twine. You sway on your feet and rub your stomach as you watch anxiously. 

He uncovers the knitted scarf and cap. He already has thick gloves that he wears for his work. He feels the wool and examines it quietly. You’re suddenly very unsure. 

“You made these? For me?” He looks up. You nod. “Wow, it’s... you lined the cap?” 

“I had a few old pieces I repurposed,” you shrug. 

“It’s...” 

“Not too much. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t make too much these days. People only hire me if no one knows and it’s gettin’ harder to sneak around.” 

He huffs and shakes his head. He lowers his chin and pets the scarf. “It’s everything.” He continues to examine your work. “I hope you don’t mind, my gift’s not ready yet.” 

“Oh, Arvin, you don’t gotta get me nothin’. You done enough.” 

“I want to,” he says. “Now,” he lays down the wool on the rug neatly and grabs his plate. He uncrosses his legs and stands. “Why aren’t you havin’ some dessert? You need to sit down. Let that baby rest. He mustn’t sleep very much with you titterin’ around all the time.” 

“He’s already titterin--” you go to argue and stop with snort. “I think he knows we’re talking about him.” 

You feel your stomach as the baby kicks. Arvin watches your hand on your belly as his brows rise up his forehead. “You think it’s a boy?” 

“Could be. Not too sure. Oof.” You twitch as the baby kicks harder. Then wince again as Arvin puts his hand on you without warning. It’s surprising but not unwelcome. His warmth seeps through your dress. 

“Oh!” He exclaims as the baby beats on your insides. “I can feel him.” 

“It’s a bit early,” you reach back to brace your hips, “he usually waits ‘til I’m in bed.” 

He keeps his hand on you, watching your belly as the baby continues his dance. He seems awestruck by the ripple under your skin. You’re more exhausted of it. 

“I’ll have your present ready soon,” he says. “Promise.” 

💝

Arvin’s truck rumbles up to the house. You were surprised when he drove it into town today. He doesn’t usually start it unless he’s going to fetch firewood or going off for long trips. 

You open the shed door, a blanket around your shoulders as you peek out. His headlights shine through the greyness. It’s still early by your count, unless you lost track again. 

He hops out and stomps through the snow. He waves at you as his hair curls out from under the cap you made him. He wears it every day. You’re happy for that. 

“Merry Christmas,” he calls out. 

“Christmas... it’s still two days away,” you stay behind the door to shield yourself from the winds. 

“Two days!” He claps as he approaches. “Since you gave me my gift early, I got yours ready too.” 

“Mine?” 

“Mmhm. You’re not the only one who can do surprises. So pack a bag.” 

“Pack...” you wonder. 

“Ah, ah, just get a bag, alright?” 

You can see him jittering in excitement. You hate to dampen that but you also feel bad. You made him a hat and scarf. He’s got something planned out that’s gonna at least cost him gas and his time. 

“Oh...” you murmur. 

“Don’t,” he wags a finger. “Really, come on! I wanna get there by dark.” 

“Alright, I’ll be fast.” 

You gently close the door and retreat. You can’t deny him. His words trouble you though. By dark? How far are you going? You don’t want him to do too much. 

You don’t have a lot to take. A few dresses that still fit, some stockings, your sole pair of boots, your coat, and other things just in case. It doesn’t sound like you’ll be coming back tonight. 

You come out in your coat and boots as Arvin keeps the truck idling. He meets you near the hood and takes your bag before he helps you up into the front seat. He gets in the other side and puts your bag between you. 

“Do I get a hint?” You ask. 

“Nope,” he shifts into gear. “Just hold tight.” 

💝

It’s a few hours before Arvin stops. Your eyes scour the sentinel pines all around and fall upon the painted wood of the cabin’s face. The porch pillars are stained a dark blue as the siding stands as white as the snow. It’s only the edgework along the window frames and door that make it visible amid the winterscape. 

You gasp, “Arvin?” 

“Surprise,” he exclaims. 

“What...” 

“My grandfather built this place. Ma’s dad. I been workin’ on it,” he proclaims. 

“Workin’ on it?” 

“Yep! Ma wouldn’t want you raisin’ that boy in a shed.” 

You mull his words and stare at the cabin. “Arvin, my aunt--” 

“I know, she’s a nice woman by the sounds of it. She can always come see us but you know, not many place around that’ll be as nice as her. Not when’s they see a mother with no husband.” 

You shrink down. He’s right. 

“But I’m not--” 

“Like I was saying,” he interjects, “you’re gonna be a mama. Means you need a proper house.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to argue. You don’t have any to offer as you reel in disbelief. Why would he do all this for you? It’s not his baby. You’re not his problem. 

He comes around and offers his hand. You climb out, gripping him tightly, as you flick away your tears. You sniffle and keep your head down as he leads you across the snowy yard. 

“You’re upset?” He asks as he kicks snow off the steps. 

“I’m... surprised,” you croak, trying to hide your face. “Arvin, it’s too much.” 

“Not much at all,” he counters. “But I got a new stove in and the fireplace real nice since I redid the bricks. And I got it all wired up to a gas generator.” 

“Oh,” you puff out as you climb the steps, still latched onto him. You hiccup as your tears flood over. 

“Oh?” He echoes. 

“Arvin,” you babble behind your hand. “Why-- why would you go and do all this for me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He tugs you toward the door. 

“But...” you choke on your words. 

You kick off your feet before you enter. He moves behind you, guiding you from behind with his hands on your arms. He stops you in a dark doorway. He lets go of you and you listen to him shifting around the dimness. He shines a flashlight into the front room. 

“Once I get the lights on, it’ll look better,” he assures. 

You shake your head, “it’s too much.” 

“Nothin’s too much,” he argues again. “Look, you need this place and you need me. You need a husband, don’t ya?” 

“Husband? Arvin, you can’t--” 

“I wanna.” 

“But--” 

“Baby boy’s not mine. No one else needa know. Them folks in Knockemstiff, the don’t go so far. And the next one will be mine. Maybe a girl--” 

“Next one?” 

“Uh huh, gonna give this one lots of brothers and sisters,” he puts his hand on your stomach. 

“I...” your heart sinks from on high. 

He’s quiet, measuring the silence as you do too. You peer into the front room then wince as he turns the light in your direction. You shield yourself as it shines in your eyes. 

“Well, you gonna tell me no?” His voice is low and silty. “Cause I don’t think no one’s gonna take you away from me. Ain’t no one else want you.” 

It’s like a knife sinking into your gut. Your frown and grab his hand, trying to shove it off your stomach. Why would he say that? He twists free of your grasp and clings to you instead. He turns the light under his chin so it casts his features in a sinister glow. 

“Without me, you and that baby’d be frozen to the side of the street,” he sneers. “All’s I’m tryna do is give you everything, you could at least do the same.” 

[toovaeloe]

maybe, baby!

you feel sick and your boyfriend automatically assumes you’ve got a bun in the oven because he has a debilitating case of baby fever

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

cw: mention of morning sickness and throw up (very light), Gojo (yes he is a content warning)

established relationship; fluff drabble

wc: 645

Satoru’s been pretty preoccupied the last few months, you’ve noticed.

First it was when he was lingering in the toy aisle of the store.

When you had pointed it out and teased him about it, called him a man child and all, he had scoffed with an equally playful smirk and fired back some jest.

But then you noticed it again when he dragged you to the baby clothing store while you two were shopping at the mall.

“Look, y/n!” He had beckoned you, hands pinching the socks of a pink bear onesie. His lips were wobbling in an exaggerated pout, his eyes watering as he turned to face you looking like he was about to ugly cry. Not that ‘ugly’ was really within his jurisdiction; he was the most ethereal ugly crier to the point it was almost irritating. But you couldn’t be irritated with him at the moment. Not with how adorable he looked so wistfully teary eyed right now.

“Look how little the feet aaaaarre!” He’d whine, thrusting his face into the crook of his elbow as a couple of sobs took him.

Needless to say you had to drag him out of the shop. But it was more like you guiding him out; patting him on the back and soothing him as he cried about how cute the tiny baby mittens were.

And one night you had come home to him sitting at the kitchen table with all the lights off, the only illumination the pale light of his screen on his face as he intermittently clicked the keyboard or scrolled. His eyes were laser-focused and unblinking as you peered over him to see what he was looking at,

It was an array of tabs; some of them overfilled carts on online catalogs of baby supplies and formula, others articles on symptoms of pregnancy, afterbirth, and postpartum depression…and Reddit..?

“r/pregnancy, how to comfort my wife when she hates my guts at 17 weeks pregnant” !?!??

Yeah. He admitted to mayhaps, perchance, having just a liiiiitttle baby fever. He did his best to not be too overbearing about it. But this is also Satoru Gojo we’re talking about.

One night while the two of you were simply cuddling in bed, arguing over if Levi Ackerman or Erwin Smith was better, you suddenly felt an odd wave of nausea. You’ve felt off all day…maybe you ate something bad and it gave you a stomachache?

No, you were going to throw up. Right now.

Satoru noticed the odd expression that had settled on your features, but before he could react you were already clambering out of bed and booking it toward the bathroom. He was there in a matter of seconds by your side as you hurled your guts into the toilet bowl, rubbing your shoulder and hushing you with gentle words and praise. But when you blearily looked over to him…he had the hugest grin on his face. You have no words.

’Fuck is bro smiling about!??

He didn’t acknowledge your dumbfounded expression, only beamed up and pumped his fists in the air.

“Yaaay! I’m so excited to be a dad!!!” He cheered.

He read on some online forum that morning sickness was a symptom of pregnancy and that it could happen practically any time in the day despite the name. This had to be it, right??

You sat there completely bewildered as he continued cheering ”Yay!!! yay, yaaaay!!!” Probably the happiest any man has ever been to witness his girlfriend hunched over a toilet bowl and spewing her guts.

You were still in shock as Satoru began rustling through your bathroom cabinet, pulling out— a box of pregnancy tests!? When did he even buy those—

“Here, sweets,” He’d usher it gently towards you with that goofy exuberant smile still plastered on his face.

“You should take one right now!”

a/n: I did say I was gonna post it awhile ago and completely forgot about it 😭! So here it is, Ü

i need gojo to disappear from existence— fr, he’s a disease i hate him sm

everyone have a great day!!

[cherrygirlfriend]

ice cold pairing: stanford!bsf!art donaldson x iceskater!reader synopsis: you injure your foot while ice skating, your best friend takes care of you. warnings: fluff! wc: 700 this is the first time in a while i'm writing for another fandom but this idea feels so art coded... it's also very me coded because i literally slipped and injured my foot to the point i couldn't walk properly for two weeks. or the time i fell down the stairs and broke my ankle. bottom line is; i'm as clumsy as the mc of a wattpad story.

being on ice felt almost like a second nature to you, and art loved watching you skate, whether it was for an ice show or for a skating competition, watching your white skates almost blending in with the ice as you turned, spun, and jumped in a way that caused his heart to jump in his chest so naturally, he thought that it'd be a great idea to take you out to a skating rink.

you blew on the hot chocolate you held in your hands, covered by a pair of white mittens decorated with adorable pink snowflake patterns, "you do know that i skate every day?" you said with a chuckle, your brows raised and your cheeks stinging from the cold.

"yeah, but you never skate with me." he shrugged, sitting down to put his skates on his feet; honestly, he was sure he was going to fall, not having gone ice skating since he was a teenager himself; he actually had to borrow patrick's ice skates. luckily, they shared the same shoe size.

"have you thought it's because i skate every day?"

"yeah, but you play tennis with me." he quipped back, making you roll your eyes, "i just thought it'd be a fun idea!"

"it is a fun idea." you shrugged, finishing the last of the hot-now-lukewarm chocolate, before placing the mug down, starting to put on your own skates, ones you always wore when you practiced, "i just like giving you shit for no reason."

"of course you do." he chuckled, the two of you making small talk as you tied your respective skates to your feet, hoping the warm liquid would soon start taking effect and warm up your body.

you rose to your feet, holding your hand out to your boyfriend expectantly, "are you ready to embarrass yourself and fall flat on your ass, donaldson?"

"we'll see who's falling flat on their ass."

"did you put a curse on me, or something?" you mumbled, letting out a hiss as you tried to step on your swollen ankle, art stuttering and trying to get you to stop as he sat you down on the bench next to the rink and took off your skate along with wool sock, a nasty, purple spot starting to form on your ankle. "how bad is it?" you asked, and art could tell how desperate you were feeling, how badly you were hoping, praying it wasn't broken.

it all happened in a split second. you'd been doing a pirouette, something you did tens, if not hundreds, of times a day, and suddenly, you were on the ground.

"i'm pretty sure it's just twisted." art said, both of you letting out nearly identical sighs of relief. art, for your health, and you, for your skating.

"thank god." you sighed, "i haven't gotten properly injured while skating since i was, like, thirteen. i have no idea how this happened.

"maybe you just deserved to fall on your ass." art shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes and smacking his arm while exclaiming that he wasn't funny.

the moment you got home, art basically carried you onto the couch while you kept complaining that you were going to be fine, that his fussing wouldn't do any good, but the blonde immediately put three throw pillows under your foot and bringing an ice pack wrapped in a towel, placing it on your slightly swollen ankle.

"i think you should get this checked tomorrow, just in case." art sighed, "i'm just worried-"

you took his hand, bringing it to your lips and placing a small kiss to the back of it, art's eyes widening slightly, "what was that for?"

"for being fussy."

"obviously." he rolled his eyes, "i'm gonna put on some tea, and we can watch anything you want."

"anything?" you asked with a small grin, making him shake his head.

"i'm not watching another low-budget horror movie."

"you said anything!"

and before he knew it, your foot was on art's lap, an ice pack over it as he massaged your ankle, a half-drunk cup of tea, christmas cookies and a bottle of aspirin placed next to the sofa as you snored while cuddling up to a pillow, art's stanford hoodie covering you, while the blonde was trying to ignore hostel still playing on tv, instead focusing on watching your serene face.

[solaiced]

CASE 14: NANAMI KENTO LIKES TO PAINT!?

!content!: cumplay, married life, nanami does NOT know how to bake, more sentimental than i anticipated, and lots of fluff.

wc: 1,4k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Whenever Nanami had a bad day, you strove to make him happy.

Come home late from overtime?

Dinner's on the table, his favorite, and a hot bath awaits him.

His coworkers were annoying?

Massage and kisses.

Now, you weren't a housewife by all means, your job was simply more lenient on hours.

So, of course, it was a surprise when you came home late for the first time in your marriage.

You throw your shoes off, landing in the abyss that you called a closet, eyes droopy from fatigue. You're so tired, that you forgot about your husband, who must’ve come home from work before you.

You drop your heavy bag and huff.

“Are you tired, my love?” You hear Kento’s voice from an unknown place in the house.

“Sorry for being late, Ken.” You call out, walking to where you think you heard him, the kitchen.

There he was, the most perfect, flawless man that you managed to wife up. Your husband. Dressed in your white apron, now stained with mysterious brown marks. He turns to you, spreading his arms invitingly.

“Welcome home.” He graces you with his perfect smile, dimples on each corner of his lips. Gift from God, he truly is.

You crash into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck while his wrap around your waist, bringing you flat against him.

“Thank you, darling.” You smile, kissing his lips. Kento tilts his head, thinking the peck would be longer, but ends up stumbling, mouth open.

“My kiss?” He asks, like a puppy who did a trick and didn’t get a treat for it.

“I gave you a kiss?” You joke, hands framing his cheeks. “Kidding, come here.”

You pucker your lips and he crashes his on them, pulling you closer, no space between you both.

He pulls away momentarily before kissing you again, hand behind your head to make you sure don’t pull away.

At some point, you try to, gasping for air. Kento backs off, looking at you with the most devastatingly loving eyes, you’d die.

“How’s that for a kiss?” You ask, hands on his chest.

“Perfect.” He remembers something, turning around, “I need to show you something. Since you’re the one who came home late this time, I made you something instead.”

He turns back to you, mittens on and a cake pan in hand. It was… dark. Kento sure was a cook, but when it came to pastries or baking… he wasn’t the best.

You gasp, surprised by his action.

“Kento… you did have to…” No, seriously, he shouldn’t bake. He sucks. He puts the pan down, taking off his mittens and putting a fork in it, picking up a big piece of the cake(?) and bringing it to your mouth. You reluctantly obey, taking the fork in.

You try to not wince, it’s obvious he mixed something wrong. There’s a clump of flour at the back of your throat.

After chewing, you cough, hiding your face.

“Are you okay?” Kento immediately puts the fork down and places his hand on your upper back worriedly.

“I-I’m fine.” You stutter, wiping your mouth. You straighten, and turn to him, smiling.

“Was it that bad? I’m sorry.” He cups your face and kisses you, peppering kisses on your face.

“I’m fine, Kento.” You kiss him back, humming contentedly. He taps your thigh, signaling you to jump, once you do, he wraps your thighs around his waist and supports your weight with his hands.

“Where are we going, my love?” You giggle, arms around his neck.

The blond man kisses your arm and starts walking, “Our bedroom. I’ll make up for almost poisoning you.” How did you get so lucky?

“Hm? And how do you plan on doing that?” You instigate, curious.

“Painting you.”

——————

Apparently, ‘painting you’ wasn’t what you thought. Apparently, ‘painting you’ didn’t mean that Kento would immortalize your beauty on a canvas. No, you were the canvas. And the paint was his cum.

Your husband suppresses a whine as he pulls out and cums for the nth time. His head feels so light. You weren’t faring any better, hips twitching and legs shaking. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were having a seizure.

“My love…” Kento whispers, the smallest tears slipping out the slits his eyes became. You turn your head slowly, trying to gain more lucidity.

“Yes, Ken?” You respond breathlessly, chest heaving.

He slips a hand down your stomach, feeling your mixed fluids starting to dry. He uses the tip of his finger to write something, and you jerk, shivering from his light touches here and there.

“K-Ken!” You whine when his finger becomes a hand, trailing down to your clit and slapping it.

“It’s unfair… Must you be so pretty?” Kento frowns, other hand planted beside your head to balance his body over you.

“W-what-“ You jerk when he repeatedly slaps your clit punishingly.

He stops suddenly and moves his hand to your breasts, writing his name across your chest, as if he was claiming you.

“You’re mine, okay?” Kento squeezes your tit, planting a kiss on your nipple. You nod, hand searching for his cock.

“Inside, again,” you beg. “I want you inside, please Kento, you’re gonna kill me.” A sob rips out of you, you didn’t even realize you were crying, poor thing.

Your husband takes his hands off of you, wrapping it around his length instead and putting the near to your fluttering entrance. He slipped in with ease, from how wet you were.

The noises you and Kento let out were harmonious, completing each other. Once he was completely sheathed inside, he groans, head tipped back so you could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows.

“Are you okay?” Sweetest man, always asking how you were, even though he was doing much worse, sweat dripping down his powerful biceps, forehead and chest. But god, he was so attractive to you in this exact moment.

You place a shaky hand on his shoulder, digging your nails in unconsciouslyy. “I’m fine, move, Ken.”

Kento’s hand lifts your thigh, the ring on his hand cold against your hot skin.

“Be good and wrap your legs around me, my love.” You obey, shivering from the pleasure, the way your husband filled you up so deliciously.

“Good girl,” he huffs, pulling out until only the tip remained and plunging the rest inside after a second. Your jaw drops, releasing a mess of incoherent moans.

Kento mutters your name in a broken whisper, hiding his red face in your neck. His hand gropes your breast, covered in his semen like he was trying to mark you up.

“Harder, Kento.” You beg, swallowing the thick wad of saliva that had built up inside of your mouth. He obliges, tip smashing against your g-spot.

Kento was a very vocal man, not bothering to muffle his moans as his cock twitched inside of you. He rubbed your walls with the ridges and veins of his length, producing friction you couldn’t find in any toy.

Meanwhile, your husband kept whispering your name and little praises, rubbing your clit with his thumb and coating your skin in his saliva and cum with his other hand and his tongue.

“Pretty girl…” Kento whispers, kissing up your jawline to your lips. “Do you mind if I paint you from the inside, this time?”

However, you were too engrossed in his frantic thrusts and light touches, bringing him closer by the shoulders.

“You-fuuhh- You better.” He chuckles at your late response and rolls his hips into your mellow cunt, wrapped comfortably around his aching cock.

“Okay, okay, cum with me, sweetheart, please,” Kento begs, unable to contain his sounds, even if he wanted to.

The slick you were releasing made it all too slippery, so, when you both came, Kento’s thick cock slips out and paints your stomach and breasts, instead of your pussy.

You recover slowly, panting and blinking away the stars in your eyes. Your husband scowls on top of you, wiping, or rather, smearing, his fresh cum all over your body.

“What’s wrong, Ken?” You ask, wondering if you were unsatisfactory.

“Nothing, just… We’ll have to do it again. I slipped out.” He grumbles, pecking your lips and actually wiping away your drool and tears.

“Kentooooo…” You whine, but he knew you wanted to.

[impish-baby]

Can we have some more Valerian pretty please? Just a few crumbs or anything you're willing to give

Hi, anon! You can have some general headcannons for him while I work on part two of his fic! ^^

Valerian headcanons - vampire caregiver - 🦇🥀

🦇 - doesn't have a preference for how his little one refers to him! He can be papa, momma, baba, doesn't matter to valerian. They will get a kick out of being called something like gramps though

(forewarning, any intense name calling might end up with your mouth washed out with soap, so maybe it's best to stick with a proper title. They know cursing can be fun to little ones, but they aren't raising an impolite child!)

He will call you a number of different pet names, but he prefers the classics like sweetheart and darling! His favorite thing to call you though is little prince/princess or some variation of that

🥀 - one of their favorite things in the whole world is dressing up their baby! Valerian takes great care in curating outfits for you, sometimes it makes you feel more like a doll than a person. "Oh, look at my little bat! You look so very lovely in this darling.." If you have long hair, the vampire is all over styling it! Especially loves adding bows and cute little hairclips if you'll let him (even with how overbearing they are, you do get some say in your wardrobe! If you prefer more masc, fem, or neutral styles your attire will reflect that)

🦇 - you'll never long for anything with him (other than your freedom)! Spoiling you is the greatest treasure, nothing is too much for his little royal. They get very passionate about you writing a list to Santa with all the things you want, even gets those little toy catalogs for you to circle (when you first arrive your room is already filled with things you enjoy, as creepy as that is. If you're good you can even go to the shops together and pick out more!)

🥀 - patience is a learned skill, and they've had a very, very long time to learn it. It takes a lot to anger or upset the vampire, so you can get away with quite a bit. Trying to harm yourself is completely out of the question, however. Any attempt will have you thralled for a good while, locked up in a crib or playpen depending on the time. "Now, you know better than that dearest. Come on, maybe you need some mittens on those little hands since you can't seem to not scratch yourself.."

🦇 - with that, punishments aren't very harsh and you'll have to push quite hard to receive one. Usually it's things like a time out or having to write a paper about what you did and why it was wrong, but it'll have to be drastic to get that far. Seeing the usually giddy vampire actually cross with you might be enough to scare you away from misbehaving again anyway

🥀 - valerian does want you to love him and stay of your own volition, he'll wait as long as it takes. You have all eternity together after all, dearest! Papa loves you, and you'll learn to love him, even if that's a hundred years from now

(a/n: it makes me so happy that people like them!! :> Feel free to ask more about him if there's something you'd like to see or are curious about.)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere V + H: Aizawa Shouta and Hizashi Yamada

These two are the villains and you the henchman 

A couple of villains perfectly prepared to take on the army of heroes 

You’re probably one of many 

Hundreds of henchmen under the villains are meant to be nameless and faceless 

Just a pair of helping hands to whatever scheme these two seem to come across

“Sirs! I have something important to report!”

“WHAT!? What’s the matter?”

“Out with it! Tell us, then.”

“Mittens…she…”

“Our cat? Oh yeah, you took her to the vet, right? So what’s the matter?”

“She…”

“Go on! We can take it!”

“She’s…”

“...”

“She’s pregnant!” 

“Eureka!!” “So, my suspicions were correct.”

“Congratulations! I’ve brought a cake to celebrate, the awesome news!”

"Wow that's awesome of you!" "Thank you, (Y/n)."

It's your focus on them as people that make them realize your worth

Unlike your coworkers who easily clock out the moment their hours are enough, you stay

Always asking if they’ve eaten, drunk enough water, or if they’ve been able to get to their laundry this week

First, its a key to their private home just to feed the cats

But then it's a meal plan of what they’ll want for dinner

Then the type of detergent for their clothes

And at this rate, they should will just start moving you into their guest bedroom

You’ve just become such an important part of their lives they can’t imagine their lives or their villainy without you:

Shota did a double take at the mass of eager minions he was prepared to lead. Not seeing a familiar face smiling and saluting among them. It would be unnerving if he didn’t remember that there were chores that he and Yamada assigned; it’d be safe to assume that’s where you there. 

“Uhm babe, did you see (Y/n) on the cameras?”

“No, but I was going to. Did you?”

“Yeah…”

A look of worry and unease was on Yamada’s face, he pulled out his phone pulled up the feed of multiple cameras, and turned the screen to his significant other who had a bad feeling. The feed was clear, and a video of the cats and kittens walking around the house was sped up as the hours continued on. The speed-up footage seemed to slow as you stumbled into the room, wobbling haphazardly as the felines crowded around you as you prepared their food. He watched as you jerked and jumped to what seemed like sneezing. You eventually left but the thought of your state alone was upsetting.

“They’re…sick.”

“Yeah, but what’s worse they didn’t even say anything to me! What about you?”

“No.”

The couple grew silent, enveloped in an unnerved feeling as they looked at their beloved henchman through the screen. Shota was the first to look away, reaching for a device on his belt that held a blinking moving dot. He noted the time on his watch, humming to himself as he adjusted his cape.

“We’ve got time to catch our kitten, but we must be quick.”

__________________________________________

You felt despicable. More than your stuffy nose and rising temperature, you felt despicable with yourself. For getting yourself sick in the first place. How could you be the best henchman you could if your body wasn’t working correctly? It made you feel even worse.

You couldn’t properly serve the couple after they so lovingly offer for you to stay in their home. Granted they were awfully adamant about that going so far as to start moving your clothes and other things into the guest room in their house. But who were you to question their kindness when you were just a mere stepping stool to their villainous success?

Deep down you couldn’t help but let your insipid doubts creep in. Like why your heart beat so fast when you walked in to find the couple going through your fridge. Or when the couple send an uplifting photo of your ex being waterboarded. It shouldn’t strike fear into your heart that your employers were so involved. You were being ungrateful. That’s what got you sick. Your unwillingness to let them further involve themselves in your life is to blame for the weakness in your immune system. You’re not sick from stress…right?

“Here’s your medicine! Hope you get better hun!”

“Thanks, miss.”

Thanking the old woman as you retrieved your medication from over the counter. Trudging out the pharmacy you planned to begin the long trek back home. Completely unaware of a flashy hero stopping their route to slowly float next to you.

“Oh troubled citizen! May I be of assistance?”

The loud question grated your ears as you refused to focus on anything other than keeping awake. 

“No. Go away.”

“But dear citizen I cannot for you seem to need help!”

You groaned at their insistence reminded of the enemy your employers were especially not fond of…infact—You finally looked with familiarized malice at the shining mass and recognizable hair at the hovering super-powered individual. 

“You’re that one hero…aren’t you?”

“So you know of me? Good! Then you have the honor of being under my care!” 

“We don’t think so.”

The monotone and distorted voice of The Eraser had you both looking up at the villains in shocked stupor. Both were fully decked out in their villain armor menacingly standing still in broad daylight. The Mic was uncharacteristically silent further upsetting your already flipping stomach. It didn’t seem that the hero felt any semblance of that though.

“You two? My it seems you have the most uncanny sense for where I am! Perhaps you’re stalking me?”

You could tell he was rolling his eyes under his visor but the villain still reached a gloved hand out to you. 

“(Y/n) come with me, I’ll be taking you to our home, now.” 

You didn’t know why your feet weren’t moving or why your hands shook as you reached out. Or why your heart was pumping so fast. Perhaps that was why you let the hero put an arm out in front of you as he lightly shoved you further behind his back.

“Do not hark their villainous temptations (MY/n)! They only wish to unsettle me with a hostage–” 

His heroic declarations were interrupted by the sudden closeness of The Mic their speaker enhanced mouthpiece dangerously close to their exposed ear.

“Don’t you dare touch them!”

The hero cringed further keeping you behind him as he backed up. Holding the side of his head he swung it back and forth between the villains. With an unexpected battle cry he opened his palms towards the villains before frantically shaking it when he found no reaction.

“W-what is this?! Why can’t I–?”

“Did you forget who you were fighting? Idiot.”

“Wellll the idiot is realizing just how much of a moron he is maybe we’ll grant some mercy.”

“M-mercy?”

“Yup you give us our lovely (Y/n)! And we won’t immediately squash you to bits!”

“Immediately?”

“Do I hafta keep repeating myself? Just give us the kitten we’ll be up on and on our way! Okay?”

“That is until we return to beat you to a bloody pulp for so much as talking to them. See (Y/n) this is why you should just stay home, it just means more carnage for everyone else. Besides you’re so sick I bet you can’t even think straight, come home (Y/n).”

“Yeah precious how about we just go home…”

“You want watch us obliterate him would you?”

[predestinatos]

cinnamon taste ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙ — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader

summary: your best friend showing up at your apartment isn't the only surprise you had that day

tags: best friends to lovers, giddy and shy charles, sooo much fluff, christmas vibes, improvised and creative mistletoe confession

words: 2.6k

note: someone requested something along these lines and i had sooo much fun writing it!! my heart is full and warm... rlly hope u guys like it too and happy holidays for those who celebrate

The scent of cinnamon and apple filled your lungs as you entered your apartment door. You congratulated yourself on the good choice of incense, apparently, but also punished yourself for seemingly leaving the music on while you were out. Jazz-y Christmas songs were playing softly, your living room feeling like a daydream of warmth and coziness.

But that dream was soon shattered upon the realization that you had brought your phone with you – there was no way it was still connected to Bluetooth. Someone was in your house.

Before you had time to panic as you removed your gloves and jacket, a figure appears before you and spins you in the air, embracing you tightly. At first, you screamed, terrified. But then the figure placed you on the floor, continuously repeating “it’s me it’s me I’m sorry” while giggling.

You immediately recognized the voice – your best friend was wrapped in an apron, glasses on and remnants of flour on his messy brown locks. Immediately, your heart went from racing to galloping, fear replaced by happiness. However, before you could show the good part, you punched him slightly in the chest, the hit clearly not producing any sort of damage. “You are such an idiot, Charles! You almost killed me” you said, although a smile was creeping in your lips and eyes as he pulled you for a hug.

Despite how long you’ve known each other, the hugs always felt the same: earnest, meaningful, his heart beating next to your ear, hands wrapped around you like a warm caress. It felt like this when you were 10 and played together, when you were 15 and snuck out together, and now this. You weren’t expecting to see him, especially not this close to Christmas day.

“I thought I’d do something with the spare key you gave me when I crashed here for a few weeks,” he said, as if reading your thoughts, already jumping between wondering how he got in and when he did it. His eyes, filled with affection, seemed simultaneously nervous, registering your face as if in analyzing it carefully.

Before you had time to ask, he pulled your arm and guided you to the kitchen – your own kitchen – warmly telling you “I have a surprise.” You followed him and as you entered the small marble kitchen, the scent hit you even harder. It smelt of comfort, of a cozy campfire feeling, of sweet bakeries opened and filled with decorations, all inside your house. The kitchen itself was slightly messy, hinting at its use, and Charles stood in it proudly, grabbing some mittens to remove the delicious smelling content from the oven.

They were cookies, made in all possible shapes and sizes – some unidentifiable, as he clearly did them by hand. The image of them filled your heart, your best friend placing them on the counter as he checked if they were ready to be eaten, almost like a postcard waiting to be stilled in time. “For how long are you staying?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

That fear proved itself right as you saw his expression change suddenly, the smile leaving his eyes and remaining only on his lips, an attempt at feigning comfort where there could possibly be none. “The day after tomorrow” he said, after a small cough, acting as if it was nothing, trying to lessen the pain of not knowing when you’d see him again.

Just for that moment, you decided to shrug it off as well, to ignore the elephant in the room that were the less than 48 hours you had to enjoy each other’s company, the knowledge that the old times of friendship won’t come back. “Better eat all of those until then!” you said, in your best effort to showcase as little sadness as possible.

You opened one of your cabinets and removed two mugs from it, one of them farther away than expected. On your tiptoes, you reached for the red mug with a big C on it, with “clumsy” written underneath in small letters. It was reserved especially for Charles, a small part of him that remained untouched from the moment he left and would only be touched again when he came back – which wasn’t often. Upon seeing it, his smile lit up once again, dimples showing on his slightly flushed cheeks, his upper arm reaching to fix the glasses he was wearing as his hands were busy sprinkling cinnamon all over the biscuits.

Placing the just made hot chocolate on the small glass coffee table in your living room, you waited for Charles, who showed up holding a plate decorated with all of his creations, which he placed next to your mugs.

You wrapped around blankets as you sat on the floor, mimicking simpler times, nostalgia running through your veins as the liquid you drank ran through your throats. Charles’ eyes scanned your living room again, “did you decorate this all by yourself?” he asked, as he analyzed the matching patterns in your white Christmas tree and how well they fit with the honey tones of the decorations scattered carefully around the room.

“Depends,” you replied, smiling, “Do you like it?” He looked at you then, the same nervousness returning to his cheeks, red from something that couldn’t be the cold, given the warmth inside your apartment. For the first time since you knew him, his eyes studied your face in a way that made you look away timidly. “Yes it’s amazing” he replied, answering the question as a way to break the sudden tension, but creating an opposite effect.

“A friend helped me” you confessed to him, shrugging. “I don’t think you know him, he-” you were about to begin, but Charles’ eyes shot to you and then quickly to the content inside his mug, fidgeting as he did so. “He and his girlfriend, love decorations and had some extra stuff from their last year so they added a lot to this” you explained, emphasizing the word ‘girlfriend’ as if it needed to be, as if you owed your best friend an explanation or seal of approval that you weren’t aware of until now. You knew it was necessary, however, when you saw his shoulders relax at your words, chest rising and falling softly underneath his sweater.

You rested your head against his shoulders reassuringly, letting him know that he wouldn’t miss any detail of your life, that you’d always make sure to update him on everything. You weren’t sure that’s what he wanted but you hoped he would understand the sentiment behind it, and you were sure he did when he laid a soft kiss on the top of your head.

His body smelled of cinnamon itself, sweet and lovely, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer by the arm, feeling his warmth which you hadn’t for so long. “I missed you, Charlie” you said, smiling to yourself. “Me too, silly” he replied whilst slowly pushing you away and getting up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You looked up at your best friend, feeling the cold spot from where he previously was, as he ran hurriedly to one of your spare rooms – which could be called his room since that was all the use it had. “Why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll open on Christmas? I don’t want to jinx it!” you yelled from your sitting place, biting one of the tree-shaped biscuits he had prepared, amazed at its taste and softness.

he came back holding a small box in his hands, carefully wrapped and decorated with a red ribbon at the top. Pride was written all over his smile and gaze as he sat down in front of you, handing you the present as he grabbed one of his own biscuits. “Because,” he said, in between bites “this is very important and urgent” he continued, giggling excitedly. You could tell from his tone that his voice was overly excited, almost acting, but you didn’t want to push him, not when he stared at you anxiously, eyes big and expectant like a puppy. His giggles were quickly replaced by sudden seriousness as soon as your hands started unwrapping the present carefully, not even wanting to ruin the package.

You were faced with a box, beautiful and cushioned, its surface gorgeously reminding you of wine nights with the company of the man who seemed not to be able to sit still in front of you. “Open it” he said, swallowing hard and nervously, leaning closer and closer with your every movement. You complied, your own curiosity threatening to jump out of your mouth, hands shaking as Charles’ own breath seemed almost irregular.

Inside it, you saw a delicate crystal, green, red and clear, in the shape of a plant. Not a plant – mistletoe. It glistened beautifully and its fragility fascinated you. It was beautiful, and you remained speechless as you examined it. “Charlie it’s-” you started, though you had no words to describe what you were feeling. Of course, the gift was absolutely mesmerizing, a small token that was impossible to not notice. Yet, you didn’t exactly know what it meant.

Charles gave you no time to think about it before he moved awkwardly, getting closer to you, closer than usual even for you two. “Listen, I… Do you want to hang it somewhere?” he said, the question so sudden, like a window that opened quickly and let all the cold wind inside the room. You looked into his eyes and found yourself still unable to speak, resorting to a simple nod as you got up, the box still resting in your hands, and he followed your movements.

You decided to hang it carefully in one of the tallest branches of your Christmas tree, where the lights hit beautifully and made it the centerpiece, stealing all the attention from the star at the top. “It’s beautiful” you finally managed to say, along with an earnest thank you, and you were about to turn back to the warm blanket when his fingertips stopped you by softly resting on your wrist.

“Wait,” he started, barely moving. All movement you could witness came from his nostrils as he exhaled deeply, his gaze completely focused on you. “I need to tell you something” he continued, looking up at the gift he had just given you. Following his gaze, you realized what he meant. “Oh. Oh this was for someone else- it’s fine Charlie mistakes happen-” you began, rising to your tiptoes in order to remove the ornament, almost laughing at your own silliness.

Once again that night, Charles stopped you, laughing warmly. “God, you’re so silly sometimes,” he told you, and despite the cold toned color of his eyes, they expressed such warmth it took your breath away. “No, this gift is for you. That’s what I mean,” he said, stumbling across his every word, “I gave you this because you’re the one I want to experience this with. The whole mistletoe kissing thing. Maybe this is silly…” his hand flew to his neck awkwardly, reminding you of when he was younger and in high school, trying to impress some girl he had a crush on.

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, nor what it could mean for your friendship in general. But you were sure you wanted to experience that moment with him as well, feel him closer to you than you ever did, your every muscle begging you to act. “Do it then” you dared him, your own nervousness coming out. You thought about how silly it was, your nervousness, given how old you two were, how much you had witnessed together, the moment so out of the ordinary yet seemingly so predictable, as if it was destined to happen.

At that, Charles’ eyes widened, but his whole body went into action. His hand went to your cheek as the other pulled you by your waist, eyes falling on your lips as if everything moved in slow motion. You placed your own hands on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat as his lips fell on yours, so soft and familiar despite how unknown it all was. The sudden smell of chestnuts and ginger intensified as the room seemed to transform, how despite the warmth you almost felt snow falling on both of your bodies. Charles couldn’t get enough of you, his hand going from your cheek to the back of your neck, begging you for more, for the moment to last for as long as possible.

Like a magnet, your own hands caressed and pulled his hair incessantly, reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere, as his heartbeat stabilized in calmness and comfort in how well your lips fit on his. His closeness was intoxicating, and you felt dizzy from how good you were feeling with his sheer presence, how right everything seemed to feel, how effortlessly he got you in your best mood.

Pulling away, you saw a smile which you had rarely seen in Charles’ face. It happened at his most happiest moments – when he won races, when he beat you at rock paper scissors when you were kids, when he got the best scores in spelling bees – it reached every muscle in his body and yours, so contagious was his cheerfulness.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, giddy and red from shyness, looking so innocent all of a sudden, despite his grip still on your waist. “I’ve been so confused, especially since the last time I stayed over. No one can make me feel like you do, and this is so hard to explain, and I don’t know how it got to this point but I have been thinking about it every day, about how good I feel when I am with you, how I just get so incredibly happy and-” you quieted his rambling by giving him a shy peck on his lips, giggling at how he stood motionless after it, eyes widened and eyebrows raised.

“I love you too” you told him, meaning every word, anxiously looking forward for the rest of your life.

[eczlipse]

ICE SKATING DATE - P.S.H

summary : after a while, your boyfriend finally agrees on bringing you to his old skating rink.

pairing : boyfriend!sunghoon x girly!femreader

genre : fluff, quality time with your boyfriend ++ established relationship.

warnings : nicknames (baby, hun, princess ++) .. kisses— lowercase intended.

wc : 1.5k

after months of begging, your boyfriend had finally decided to bring you over to his old skating rink. he had always declined before hand— not to be mean, more willingly because of your safety. eventually, since you wouldn’t stop nagging about it he gave in.

sunghoon failed to make it seem like he didn’t think it was a big deal— he’d gone overboard and bought you figure skates along with leggings and fuzzy socks. he was definitely more excited than you were internally.

- here, hun. these’ll keep you warm…

he hummed as he handed you your gift. you smiled up at him and put them on. the both of you got ready together and packed some things for your date. sunghoon made sure to pack any snacks you may have needed there as well as extra mittens. it had already been past 11pm, and the both of you weren’t tired at all.

you both began walking out of your shared apartment as sunghoon closed the door behind you, holding your needs. taking the elevator down, you couldn’t help but ask him a question.

- is anyone else gonna’ be there?

you smiled, he tugged onto your scarf, looking down at you and answered.

- no, just the two of us. i might’ve booked it for us only tonight—

at that you squealed into your boyfriends arms. he was perfect, he never missed to surprise you in anyway and he was so caring. this surprise just made you even more excited.

- oh my god! really? hoonie you’re perfect—

the elevator then opened letting you two out and walking to the car. he then placed your things in the backseat. then, opening your car door, letting you sit first followed by himself. you smiled at his act of service as he started the car.

the car ride was quiet, you had taken a small nap to gather more of your energy whilst your boyfriend did the hard work of driving in the dark. upon arrival, you couldn’t help but notice how huge the building had been. making you wonder how the rink would look. sunghoon guided you to the entrance, then brought you over to the changing room.

- uh— this is it , this is where i used to change all the time.

he recalled while placing your things down. he sat down next you and began tying up his skates.

- i can’t believe you’re really letting me see this, babe. this is all so interesting.

you hummed at him, staring at him for a moment then blankly at your skates. sunghoon then realized you were a rookie at this, you wouldn’t know how to tie on your skates properly—

- ahh, do you need help? i’ll help you.

he kneeled down to you and began putting the figure skates on your feet. untying and retying it tightly, he made sure they’d be tight enough to your liking. a smile lit up on your face as he looked up at you every now and then, verifying if you were comfortable. god, he was perfect.

- thank you, you really are the best!

you said softly. after a couple seconds, you attempted to stand up— you had almost fell, grabbing onto his tall figures jacket, you yelped.

- okay now, how am i supposed to make it to the rink babe.

you chuckled, still holding your grip on him. he couldn’t help but laugh at your behaviour a bit— you were so adorable to him, the way you acted, your beauty and especially that laugh of yours.

- how bout’— i carry you there, hm? that good enough for you, princess?

he cooed, as he bent over for a piggyback. you playfully hopped on and whispered him a little ‘thank you’ in his ear making him smile even more. you weren’t heavy to him, your small frame made it easier for him to touch you in any way physically as well as having fun with you.

as you both arrived to the ice, he set you down on the concrete slab infront of of the ice. he held your hand tightly before making any sudden movement.

- you ready ?

he smiled at you, grip tightening on your hand.

- i— um, yes okay. please guide me ?

you stuttered. at that he brought himself and your legs to the ice. you held onto his hand in order not to slip and fall. he glided around as you held the hem of his coat, forcing you to follow along. your body couldn’t let you move, you’d been to scared to even take a step— or at least glide on the ice.

your boyfriend skated infront of you and took out his hands, indicating you to hold on to both of them. you placed your hands in his as he slowly backed himself up, getting you to take ‘baby’ steps.

- try and follow my lead, slowly take some mini steps— okay?

he spoke softly, you nodded and began attempting to glide a bit. you held onto him tighter if you felt as if you would fumble or slip— as you slowly got used to the feeling of the ice, he let your hands go sending a wave of surprise through your body and a smile forming on his lips.

you attempted to keep going towards him, smiling between each step you took. he then pulled out his phone and took a couple cute pictures of you, you posed and laughed. sunghoon couldn’t help but laugh at you too, he glided in front of you and took your arm. you followed his lead because, obviously he was the professional.

- i think i’m getting better honestly.

you chuckled as you glided away with him almost slipping.

- hm’ yeah i think so too… sure—

- are you mocking me ?

you cocked your head,

- no’ you just aren’t a pro yet, babe.

he laughed to himself and at you.

- i’ll literally do a spin right now— let me go!

you skated away rolling your eyes.

- be careful—

before he could finish his sentence, you attempted to do a turn. you honestly had just shifted your body slowly in a 360, hands in a pirouette position. then you glided right back into his arms.

- are you proud of yourself?

- i think i did pretty good, if i say so myself.

you gave him a smug look after that ‘performance’ of yours. he laughed at himself and spoke again,

- i mean wow, you might actually be better than i thought. guess i have some competition now, hm?

you nodded at him confidently, crossing your arms.

- now you do something cool ! go, i wanna see you twirl.

you empathized on the ‘twirl’ as he brought himself away from you. your beautiful boyfriend then began spinning casually and into a sit spin. his skills shocked you, you gasped a hand covering your mouth. he slowed himself down and got back up next to you.

- that was, beautifully done oh my—

- told ya’

he winked playfully at you. sunghoon then cupped your face and leaned in, feeling your soft skin. your lips met, as the initial touch of our mouths sent a shiver down your spine. the kiss deepened, as he pulled you a little closer. your bodies pressed tightly against each other. the cold air outside being forgotten, as the warmth between you grew intense.

you shared this intimate moment on the ice, surrounded by nothing but the sound of your heavy breaths and the occasional soft laughters.

- you’re perfect,

he said, you couldn’t help but blush at his words and cover your face. you slapped him playfully and hugged him.

- do you want to go home ? get some hot chocolate ?

he asked you, rubbing his thumb on your cheek, staring at you very lovingly.

- mm’ sure. let’s stay a while though, i like this.

you smiled. after a while you both skat around and got tired as time passed by. you then mutually decided to go ahead and go back in the changing rooms to prepare yourselves to go back home.

- this was so fun, let’s do it again soon! please ?

you cheered while getting your boots back on.

- of course, anything for you.

he hummed, carrying all of your things as he opened the door for you.

you both made your way to the car and made a stop near a small coffee shop, luckily it was still opened.

- hey, can we please get two medium hot chocolates please ?

he asked, the cashier hummed and within a few minutes he gave you both your hot chocolates.

your boyfriend and you spent your time in the car rambling about his old skating buddies, life and more. you listened carefully to what he said and each detail. at some point, he eventually drove into the apartment's parking area and got out, opening the door for you. as you got home, you both took off your winter clothes and plopped yourselves on the sofa. you cuddled him, while trying to find a movie to watch to end the perfect night you had both spent together.

[nylaboon]

hi there! can you please write akito with a reader that has a crush & its suuuuuuper obvious about it, so he can't help but tease reader and get them super flustered? thank you!

Rabbit Hole — Akito Shinonome

"Gonna be a smitten mitten till the day you die?"

— in which An gets you to confess to Akito.

akito shinonome x fem!reader

tags: fluff, characters might be a little ooc, probably shit lmao i wrote this at one in the morning, cut me some slack

note: i literally squealed when i read this request i love akito sm

You've been in school for nine years, yet you still struggle with paying attention in class. It wasn't just the teachers who had poor teaching tactics, which didn't help you activate your brain for the remainder of the day, but it was also the lack of sleep you got each night. You spent more time scrolling on social media than you did working on your homework. It was the poor attention span that troubled you. It was your fault, though. You knew you should've been responsible enough to better yourself in these situations. You were getting to that age, anyway. Soon, you would be independent and no longer under the wing of safety connected to your parents.

But until then, you would continue to feed off your friends.

It helped you get things done faster, so it couldn't have been that bad. You weren't entirely dependent on them, but only just a little. Both An and Mizuki were in the same class as you, so that gave you even more of a reason to slack off whenever they attended. They didn't really mind, either. It just gave you three another reason to hang out after school, therefore it was more of a blessing than a curse. Sitting in the corner booth of Weekend Garage, sipping on piping hot coffee, chowing down on sweet treats, and praying to whatever god up there that one of them had the answers to the homework. It was the highlight of your year.

This afternoon was the same as any other. You rested your chin against the table, tapping the end of your pen against your workbook and staring off into space while An yapped Mizuki's ear off about whatever the hell they were talking about. Another part of your guys' "study session" was that it always took at least thirty minutes for you all to actually get to work. It was a lengthy process, but you still somehow managed to get work done.

After yawning and raising your head from the table to lean back comfortably against the booth seat, An switched her attention from Mizuki to you. She smirked pridefully and played with a strand of her hair. "Y'know, y/n, me and Akito did some talking during practice yesterday, and—"

"What did you do?" You asked in horror, slowly sinking down the seat. An shook her head, a sign that your fear was unnecessary. "I didn't say anything, okay?" She took a large gulp of her coffee before continuing her explanation. "We just played a little game of 'what if'."

"By 'we played' do you mean you forced him to answer your questions while he tried to get work done?" Mizuki interjected, to which An rolled her eyes playfully. "Yes, but that's not the point. The point is..."

She paused, leaving you in suspense. Her mouth stayed open for a bit, before shutting—but there was still a smirk on her face. You raised an eyebrow. "The point is?"

She shrugged. "Actually, I'll let you find out on your own."

You couldn't help but get butterflies from that sentence alone. Whether they were good or bad was unknown, but it made you feel nervous, nonetheless. "C'mon An," you begged, "don't be evil..."

You turned to Mizuki, desperation written on your face. "Do you know anything?"

"No," she answered, "nothing for sure. But can I offer my two cents?" You nodded eagerly and waited for her to speak again. "He never snaps at you, but he sure does tease the hell out of you. Odd, don't you think?"

"Right?" An agreed. "He even snaps at Toya sometimes, and that's his best friend."

"What if I just get Ena to put you on?" Mizuki questioned, to which you immediately declined her offer. You chuckled humorlessly and played with the hem of your shirt. "Absolutely not! She would totally make fun of me until the end of time. Maybe even criticize my taste in guys, if she's feeling extra mean..."

Mizuki scoffed and mocked you. "As if she can't already tell you're crushing on him."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you can't act normal around him for the life of you," the bluenette answered for her. "He doesn't even have to be in the room. We could just be talking about him and you'll start giggling like a little girl."

"No, I don't! I didn't even giggle today!"

"Yeah, because you were too busy trying to not have a panic attack over whether I told Akito about your feelings for him or not," she countered, to which Mizuki agreed.

"Yeah, it's, like, painfully obvious how bad you have it for him. I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. Maybe that's why he teases you so much."

If that was the case, you wouldn't know what to do. If he already knew, then why wouldn't he just tell you instead of making you wait so long for a fifty-fifty answer? The thought made you want to throw up. Not that it was bad, but it was nerve-wracking. It would be nice if he did know, but what if he didn't feel the same? What then? You placed your hand on your stomach and pouted subconsciously. "All this stress is making my stomach hurt."

"And all this pussying out is making my head hurt," Mizuki joked. Meanwhile, An was scrolling on her phone, barely paying attention to the conversation now. "C'mon, y/n! I'm sure if you tell him, he'll be nice about it."

"No, he won't," you whined. "Guys are never nice about this stuff. The last time I confessed to a guy, he told the entire class and they all made fun of me for a month."

"That was in primary school, y/n..."

"So what? It still happened!"

"Y'know what?" An spoke up as she tidied up her area, putting her books and pens back into her schoolbag. "What if we help you practice a confession?" You raised an eyebrow and asked what she meant. "Mizuki will cover your eyes, and I'll pretend to be Akito. Then, you work your magic and confess!"

"Why does Mizuki have to cover my eyes—?"

"Because it'll help you focus on envisioning his presence." It didn't take a genius to know that she completely pulled that claim out of her ass, but you chose to just let her get away with it. "C'mon, y/n! It's getting sad watching you drool over him without knowing if he feels the same or not."

You let out a defeated sigh and threw your head back. "Okay, okay. We can practice, or whatever."

Little did you know that agreeing to her idea would be the best and worst decision you've ever made.

As to why you were doing this outside was a mystery. Maybe it was to avoid getting weird looks from people inside the cafe, but it was equally as bad—and probably worse—to do outside the building. You stood in front of An, awkwardly rubbing at your arm to distract yourself from the pure embarrassment you felt every time someone walked past you three. Mizuki and An, however... You really needed their confidence, because they did not seem to give a shit about gaining people's attention.

"Alright," An said cheerfully, "close your eyes and just imagine that I'm Akito. Mizuki, you cover her eyes so she can't see for sure." Mizuki did as she was told, lightly cupping her hands over your eyes. With that, An cleared her throat and spoke up a second time. "Are you imagining him?"

"Uh," you muttered nervously, "sure, I guess." It took a while for her to speak up again, but you assumed that she had gotten distracted by her phone again. "Now say what you have to say. Don't think about it; just let it flow out."

"...An, this is stupid."

"Trust me! It'll help!"

You sighed and took your time to think. Let the words flow out, you thought. It couldn't be that hard. It was like you were talking to yourself. All you had to do was just forget about An and Mizuki, and you were good. You imagined a world where everything was perfect. A world where it was just you and Akito, for the time being. A world where no one could make fun of you for expressing yourself. A world where everything went your way. You clenched your hands into fists and swallowed hard, preparing to vocalize your thoughts and feelings.

"...since you're totally Akito," you began sarcastically, still finding the whole concept to be ridiculous, "I guess now's the time to finally tell you about how much I'm soooo in love with you, and how annoying it's been to have to deal with these feelings, knowing damn well that I was way too scared to actually tell you about them without my friends forcing me to. And I guess I have to talk about how irritating it is to have to deal with your teasing without knowing if it's platonic or not. And I guess I have to talk about how this is probably a huge waste of time because I know that I'll just pussy out when I actually want to try to confess to you."

You could hear Mizuki sigh behind you. "You're not taking it seriously, y/n!"

"What's the point? It's not like I'm gonna tell him anything anytime soon, so what's the—"

During your mini-rant, you pulled Mizuki's hands away from your eyes and opened them. Instead of An standing in front of you, she was beside Akito, who was now where she stood before. You felt your entire body freeze up at the sight of him. Not only that, but your heart fell all the way down to your ass. He was smirking at you, seemingly finding the situation to be amusing.

"—That's the point," Mizuki finished for you. Not that you were even listening. You were too busy trying to not start hyperventilating. "Why are you here?" You timidly questioned. He was supposed to be at work, so why the hell was he here now?

"I'm on my break and An told me to come here," he answered smugly, not once breaking eye contact other than to blink. "What was that about you being soooo in love with me?" Your jaw clenched and your head became light. Is this what dying felt like? Because, honestly, you were hoping that your next breath was your last.

"It was just a joke," you blurted out and internally cursed at how stupid that lie was. Akito sneered and let out an 'uh-huh'. You weren't getting out of this easily, so you might as well just give up. "Akito," you muttered, "don't do this to me."

"I already knew before this," he admitted nonchalantly. "I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell me."

"It would've taken longer if An didn't set me up..." Maybe your crush on him was obvious, as much as you didn't want to believe it. "Can you just, like, tell me what you think so I can rest easily tonight?" He nodded and laughed a bit with that same annoying grin on his face. "I think you're cute, or whatever."

An let out an excited squeal before you could even process what he said. "And I think that you should come clean about this beforehand so we could actually…y'know."

"I don't know," you replied, to which Mizuki quickly spoke up with a grin of her own. "He wants you!" Akito sent her a glare but didn't deny it.

"You're making this a lot less enjoyable for me," he advised the girls. "But I guess that's one way to put it." It felt like the entire world was crumbling beneath your feet but in a good way. You couldn't help but play with your fingers as a nervous tic, but despite your anxiety, you were smiling. Wide. Before you knew it, you walked up to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Akito was caught off guard, but only for a bit. He eventually wrapped his arms around you as well and applied a sweet kiss on the top of your head. It was like a dream.

"Thanks, An…" you mumbled against his chest. You totally owed her after this.

written by @nylaboon

[dumpster-fire-sapphic-failgirl]

“Vi didn’t get a win in all of Season 2. She lost every fight!”

Vi isn’t made to win fights. Vi blocks with her face. She wins because she takes the hit so other people don’t have to and she gets up again and again and again

Vi saved Cait at the memorial. No, she didn’t land the showy blow with Jayce’s hammer, but Cait would still be dead if she wasn’t there, bare knuckle boxing a shimmer goon

Vi technically beat Jinx in their showdown. But Vi *won* by protecting her sister and the undercity kid

She came out on top in most of the montage brawls. But it wasn’t a win, bc it wasn’t *for* anything. And it didn’t hurt enough until she started blocking with her face again

She was winning the slap fight with Jinx until she sucker punched a child for biting her so that was really a draw at best

She won the fight with War/Vander. She saved Isha’s life with that punch. She went ten rounds with a genetically modified nigh immortal killing machine. She stopped in an act of faith for Jinx. And got her sister and father back. That’s a win.

Vi lost when she tried to bare knuckle box against spears. Pro tip: The greatest boxer in the world will lose against a company of spear fighters. If you’ve just got your hands, you will not win against spears. Accept the L. Survival becomes the W. Bonus, she did protect Jinx from the blast.

And then everyone lost in the final battle. Vi held her own in the first half by surviving. Her and piano man were the only ones not dead by the time the Undercity Armada and Magic Mel showed up. And then everyone lost to the perfection bots except Ekko. and Ekko did arguably cheat a little.

Anyway, had enough of the libel about my angry oil slick and her over designed bitch mittens. Vi won. So many times. When she saved someone she cared about. When she got back up after getting knocked down. Shielding the people she loved.