#mittens thoughts i guess

[kumomist]

would paimon asking ‘melusines can paint?’ be ableist or racist…

[we-re-always-alright]

Finishing that crochet blanket really sapped all my desire to work on knitting so much so I played and replayed PIKMIN 3 just to avoid thinking about yarn. And now I have two baby blankets I should be working on and a ton of beer mittens to make… need to find some motivation…

[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. 

[leona-hawthorne]

happy 1k!! may i please have latte art? ☕️🫶🏼

i’m a ravenclaw, fave class is probably charms with mattheo 💕 eeeek i’m so excited!!

thank you for requesting pookie, i love u sm 😚🤍 i loved writing this one, hope you like it 💌

1k celebration navigation latte art

ミ★ FEEL IT… mattheo riddle

You stumbled through the damp underbrush of the Forbidden Forest, mittens clutched in one hand, the other holding your wand to light the narrow path. You weren't expecting to run into anyone out here, especially this far from the castle—unlike you, most students didn’t seek solace in the quiet of the woods after sundown. That’s probably why you were surprised to spot a familiar dark-haired figure standing alone beneath a patch of moonlight, his wand raised as he muttered incantations under his breath.

Mattheo Riddle.

You’d seen him around—a Slytherin with a reputation for being brooding, intense, maybe even a little intimidating. But right now, he didn’t look intimidating. He looked… frustrated, wand aimed forward as though he was attempting something challenging. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stepped closer, careful not to make a sound. When he attempted the spell again, you caught a glimpse of silvery smoke swirling from the tip of his wand, a Patronus charm trying to form.

It flickered, then faded, leaving him scowling, muttering a curse under his breath.

Without thinking, you cleared your throat. “You’re close, you know. But you’re missing something.”

He startled, eyes flashing as he turned to face you before he sighed in exasperation.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm, though you could sense a flicker of embarrassment beneath it.

“Not much,” you replied, stepping closer despite the warning look he gave you. “I just thought I’d offer a suggestion. Charms is… kind of my thing.”

He scoffed. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “No, not really. But I do know that if you want to cast a Patronus, you’re going about it all wrong. You’re trying too hard. A Patronus requires more than technique—it’s about feeling. You have to immerse yourself in your happiest memory. Like, really feel it—imagine it in detail, every single sensation.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking half-amused, half-irritated. “What makes you think I have any happy memories?”

“Come on, you must have at least one,” you replied, stepping closer. Without waiting for permission, you reached out, gently adjusting his hand to tilt his wand up. The brush of his hand against yours was warm, steady, but you felt him tense under your touch. His gaze flickered to where your hands touched, and you could practically feel the shift in his breathing. He was trying to keep his cool, but you caught the way his shoulders squared, the faint flush in his cheeks.

He was looking at you now, something unreadable in his gaze, as if he was trying to figure you out. “This doesn’t feel like Charms class,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“It’s not,” you replied, holding his gaze with a playful smile. “But let’s pretend it is.”

He breathed in, then closed his eyes, his face softening as he focused. You watched as his fingers tightened around the wand, as if gathering his resolve, and then—suddenly—an enormous, shimmering silver lion erupted from the tip, prowling protectively around the two of you before disappearing into the trees.

For a moment, he stared at the place where the lion had been, a little awestruck. Then, slowly, he turned to look at you. 

“A lion?” you said, arching an eyebrow. “Interesting for a Slytherin.”

Mattheo chuckled, a warm sound that somehow felt as intense as the rest of him. “I guess there’s more to me than meets the eye.” He hesitated, glancing at your hand still resting on his. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you replied, stepping back to leave.

“Wait,” he called after you, his voice low, but with a surprising urgency. “What’s your name?”

You looked back over your shoulder, giving him a small smile as you replied, “Y/N.” And then, before he could ask anything else, you turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest path, leaving Mattheo staring after you, utterly spellbound, his Patronus glowing softly in the moonlight as he watched you disappear.

[fandomaddictwut]

Some student at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: Mr. Logan, you’ve been alive for a long time, right?

Logan: Sure, kid. Since sometime in the early 1800’s. Why?

Student: Is there anything you miss from back then? Not like a person, y’know; we all miss people. But something you thought was gonna be around forever, or at least a long time, and it just isn’t now.

Logan:…what?

Student: Y’know, like a place or an animal or something. Maybe a food or a kind of transportation or a style of clothes or whatever. What’s something you miss from the past that’s not an individual person?

Logan: Oh my god. I…never really thought about that.

Logan: Um…passenger pigeons were pretty cool, I guess. I liked steam trains. Not great for the environment, but they were pretty neat. Also, old-school bananas tasted way better than whatever tf passes for bananas now. And Yellowstone before cars was…indescribably beautiful. And hand-knit socks and mittens? So comfy, but I don’t know anyone who does that anymore.

Student: Aw, shit. There was so much cool stuff. And it’s all, like, gone now. :(

Logan: Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to be a downer. Just…the world’s a lot different now. Not bad; just…different.

Student: …Yeah. I mean, healthcare is way better now, so I’m glad I live in the present. But that stuff…I’m sorry I missed it.

Cut to that student learning how to knit/sew/handicraft and making Logan and the other teachers and students handmade gifts. They’re not really good at first, but they get better and more intricate as the years go on.

Logan gets a pair of gloves with little button holes made for his claws to go through without ruining them. Storm gets a beautiful lacework shawl. Charles gets so many hats with pompoms and wears them with pride. Jean loves her infinity scarf, and Scott is so ecstatic over his little fair isle patterned earmuffs. Remy gets a playing card themed cropped sweater, and Rogue squeals with delight when she gets the softest, most beautiful pair of gloves she’s ever seen. And everyone gets custom hand-knit socks, even Kurt (that’s when the student first got into pattern creation: not a lot of two-toed sock knitting patterns out there, so they made their own).

Idk, just…fluffy x-men learning cool stuff about the past and keeping it alive in the present, just because.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism x Reader: Happy Holidays!

G/N. Soft fluff. (All my blorbos - Gun Park, Goo Kim, Ryuhei Kuroda, Jake Kim, Vin Jin, Samuel Seo)

Gun Park - Hat

For the man that could buy pretty much anything, you opted to go for homemade. A personal touch.

Issue is, your personal touch is pretty shitty and shoddy. Gun still accepts the hat with a straight face and heartfelt thanks even as you tell him he doesn't have to wear it.

Why wouldn't I, he thinks. You have spent your time and effort making this for him and he appreciates it. Even if it isn't quite his... taste.

.

.

"What is that on your head?" Goo exclaims, torn between bursting into laughter and abject horror at the crimson bobble hat Gun is sporting. Ends of his hair poking out, and the colour highlighting the red of his windswept cheeks and nose.

"Fuck off."

"I think it's cute," Crystal grins as Goo whirls around and screeches.

"Cute?! Gun Park? Have you lost your mind?"

"Like you can say anything with those ridiculous mittens."

"My mittens are not ridiculous!"

Ignoring Crystal and Goo devolving into slinging insults at each other, Kouji glances at Gun and chuckles, opens his mouth to tease-

And is intercepted by a look from Gun, and a warning. "Shut it if you want to live."

Kouji's mouth slams shut.

.

.

Goo -  Mittens

"Tasteless," Gun sneers, and Goo kicks his ass for it.

"Tasteless," Kouji sighs, and Goo throws his laptop out the window.

"Tasteless," Crystal laments, and Goo- well. Goo can't exactly do anything. That's his boss's daughter, and nepotism is kinda a thing.

So he snarls, nostrils flaring and calls her tasteless too.

.

.

"I. LOVE. THESE!" You screech, high and shrill when you yank the mittens out of the box.

Tasteless huh, Goo thinks smugly as you cover him in kisses, No surprise it's everyone else that has no taste.

Birds of a feather truly flock together where you and Goo are concerned. Birds of a feather will also be able to keep their hands warm with their couples mittens too.

A conjoined monstrous thing, that allows you two to keep holding hands through the bitter Seoul winter. Keeping your fingers intertwined and an objectively OTT display of PDA. That you had to be touching, can't even bear to keep your hands to yourself for a moment, that you would need such an accessory.

Goo thought it was perfect when he laid eyes on it, if the way you two are always attached at the hip is any indication.

You clearly think so too, when Goo unwraps his own gift-

-Delighted and cackling, pulling out the same duplicate mittens.

.

.

Ryuhei Kuroda - Card

"Y/N!" Ryuhei calls you from down the hallway, waving enthusiastically before striding over.

"Here," he grins, handing over a card, "Happy Holidays. Hope you like it!"

.

.

The card sits on your desk. It's somewhere between cringe and cheesy, and utterly charming.

On the front is a (badly) hand drawn picture of you and Ryuhei, signed with his signature in the corner. Inside, a couple lines of explicit filth accompanied with sickeningly sweet declarations and too many hearts and kisses to count.

You blame it on the festive period. That's the reason you're feeling so soppy and sentimental, why every time you look at the crappy drawing you can't help but smile.

.

.

Ryuhei blinks, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, "You kept it?"

"Yeah," you peer at the card in your periphery, "I like it."

"You like it? Really?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

You hear Ryuhei mumbling something about how someone (no prizes for guessing who) would always just dump them in the trash without opening.

"...And they weren't even lewd," he sighs, then perks up, any gloominess dissipating and eyes practically sparkling, "But that's all in the past."

Absolutely delighted, Ryuhei leans over your desk, practically lying across it, and punctuates each word with a kiss, "You!” MWAH “Like!” MWAH “It!” MWAH

"Yeah," you smile fondly at your idiot, cupping his face, "I like you too."

.

.

Jake Kim - Gifts

Jake shrugs off his jacket and loosens his tie. It's been a long day. Actually, it's just been a long goddamn year.

He runs his fingers through his hair, ready to jump in the shower and straight to bed when-

Gift bags and presents cover his coffee table and a 'DO NOT OPEN! IT'S NOT FOR YOU!' sign catches his eye.

Huh. That is undoubtedly your scrawl, but if they're not gifts for him then...? He fires off a quick text.

Jake: hey, did you leave some presents at mine?

Y/N: yeah!

Y/N: i did some shopping and grabbed some stuff for your big deal boys

Y/N: and lua ofc

Jake, jaw dropping open at your thoughtfulness: really?

Y/N: yep. sinu and yeonhui too btw.

Jake: are you serious??

Y/N: yeah.. is that not ok?

He’s rendered speechless. And that you might even think that you have overstepped or any such nonsense is ridiculous.

Jake: wow

Jake: it’s more than ok

Jake: you didn’t have to

Jake: i appreciate it.thank you

Y/N: 😁 its just some small bits and pieces. i didn't think you would have time

Y/N: i left some food for you in the fridge too 🥰

His breath hitches and stomach grumbles, your message reminding his body he hasn't had anything since this morning.

Jake starts to type-

I can't believe-

You're the best-

I'm so lucky-

You're too good to-

I don't know what I would do without-

None of them feel right.

In the end he settles for something far simpler.

He dials your number, hears the question in your voice when you pick up.

And pours everything into three words, "I love you."

.

.

Vin Jin - Cheonliang

Vin opts for casual and nonchalant, pretends it's something that he thought of rather than something that he has wondered about for the last few weeks.

(Used Mary as a soundboard and she had thought it was a good idea, and if Mary thinks it's a good idea then it definitely is.)

It was a passing thought, at first. A small seed planted and grown until all Vin can think about is how nice the holidays would be with you, how cool it would be to show you where he grew up.

He can't ever escape the awful memories there that still haunt him, but... maybe he can create new memories too.

With you.)

"If you're not doing anything for the holiday break," Vin keeps his eyes on his phone, scrolling now and then to keep up appearances, "Want to come visit Cheonliang with me?"

The question is casual. Easygoing. Breezy. His voice doesn't crack at the end. He's not holding his breath waiting for your reply. He doesn't desperately wish you would say yes, and hasn’t already planned the days with you in advance.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Vin forces himself to shrug, "Might be nice."

"I would love to!"

Vin takes a peek in your direction, double checks he didn't just hallucinate your agreement or that you're joking.

He didn't, and you're not. All he sees is excitement painted over your face and a wide smile. You know how much this means.

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, a weight lifted from his own. Equally anxious and thrilled to show you every part of himself.

.

.

Samuel Seo - Gift

"This would look good on you," Samuel shows you a piece of fine jewellery on his phone. It's exquisite. A bit too much for everyday wear (of course Samuel would pick this out, he himself is a bit too much), though it really is stunning.

You tell him it's beautiful.

He pauses, studies your face, then clicks the screen off. Back to square one. "You don't love it."

It's not accusatory, just a statement. But he feels like he needs to get this right. Your first holiday together and you deserve the world. He wants to get you something, really spoil you, to show how much you mean to him.

You take in Samuel's face and can't help but giggle. Him trying to remain unaffected except for a small, telling pout.

"I would love it if you got it for me," You shuffle over until you're sitting in his lap, "But I don't need it."

He wraps you in his arms, adjusting until you're both comfortable, "What do you need?"

"Nothing," Grinning, "I don't need anything else."

"Fine, then what do you want?"

"You."

Your cheesy response earns an eye roll and a reluctant huff of laughter, "You got me. What else do you want?"

"Nothing," you repeat, leaning in and lifting his glasses off. "You're enough."

You pepper his face with kisses until Samuel melts into a puddle; all thoughts of proving his love with price tags and money completely forgotten.

[tiredfox64]

BI HAN X FEM FIGURE SKATER READER?? I man cold man..reader who's constantly in the cold come onnn

History Maker

Prior notes: Of course I see it, I THOUGHT OF IT BEFORE! Also no one call me out on the title.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Figure Skater! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: I’m holding onto the edge I can’t skate

Liu Kang has gained all his champions, you being one of them. You would have never guessed that your ice skating skills made you a potential fighter. Your flexibility, the ability to stay stable and balanced, strong legs, and grace were all aspects of a great fighter. Liu Kang has made no mistake. You might doubt yourself but he sees potential in you. You just need the right mentor.

That’s why Liu Kang unexpectedly dropped in to see Bi-Han and ask him to be your mentor. Bi-Han questioned why he didn’t send you to the Wu Shi Academy with everyone else. The answer is simple, Artika is a better environment for you. Liu Kang has already allowed you to mess around in the area. Bi-Han was not happy with Liu Kang making a decision without consulting him. He got up and told the fire god to show him where you were.

It didn’t take long for them to find you. They followed the music that was coming from the frozen lake. Bi-Han makes his way toward you with annoyance before turning into curiosity.

You moved so gracefully on the thick ice. Your skates left marks on the frozen lake and left bits of shaved ice behind. It was surprising to see you weren’t wearing extra layers. All you had on was a long-sleeved shirt, bootcut pants, and mittens. Gotta keep yourself from getting hypothermia. You started sliding backward on the ice without even looking. You took a deep breath before launching yourself into the air. You spun quickly. One revolution, two revolution, three revolution, four revolution! Four revolutions before you landed on the opposite foot. You kept moving on like you didn’t do a lutz jump. A jump that many would cheat at. Not you, because you’re that good. So good that you caught the eye of the Lin Kuei’s grandmaster.

The cherry on top was when you finished off your routine by doing a camel spin. You lifted your left leg to make a perfect 90-degree angle as you spun on the other leg. You looked so graceful, you were unlike anything Bi-Han had seen. You lowered your leg and brought yourself to a stop. You noticed Liu Kang was nearby watching you with a proud smile on his face. Bi-Han was next to him, staring in awe but it was hard to tell since his eyebrows were still furrowed. You skated up to Liu Kang and asked who Bi-Han was.

“This is the Lin Kuei’s grandmaster, Bi-Han. I was hoping he would mentor you if he so desires.” Liu Kang looked at Bi-Han for confirmation. After what he saw he already made a decision.

“She has potential. It is clear to me that she will fit right in.”

His stance on you changed pretty quickly. He would have refused to deal with you if he didn’t see your wonderful display of skills. But now that he has seen, he can’t let you go.

You were fine with working with him. You just had one condition. You wanted to use the lake whenever you wanted so you could keep skating.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Your time with the Lin Kuei was beneficial. Actually your time was mostly spent with Bi-Han.

The environment was perfect for you. A frozen lake that you could use every day to practice skating. The ice was so thick you never feared falling through. Even if there was a risk, Bi-Han was always there to watch you. He enjoyed watching every special jump or spin you could do. Not only was it impressive but it was majestic. That doesn’t distract him from the fact that he is supposed to be training you.

One of your strengths, as he pointed out through observations, was your flexibility. You could make a straight line with your legs while standing on one foot. You could do a split with no struggle. You could almost make your foot touch your head while standing on one leg. That one is his favorite stretch since it allows him to get close. He liked to “check your form” which meant he’d come up to place a hand on your waist and your thigh. You might have felt him squeeze your thigh once or twice but you weren’t sure. You were more focused on keeping your balance.

You two were very compatible, not much of a shock there. It was a deadly duo that consisted of ice. He can control ice; you can control yourself on ice. A clever trick you guys could perform is when Bi-Han made a path of ice that you can skate on quickly before kicking your opponent at the last second. It catches everyone off guard with how fast you came towards them. It was fun to do, you can’t lie about that.

It became a habit for you two to take walks. You would skate on the ice while he would walk around the lake’s edge. Some of those walks would be quiet, other times you would go on about how you have improved both in skating and fighting. Once in a while when you were close to him he would take your hand and make you do a spin. The first time he ever did that to you, you tried your hardest to stop yourself from giggling. It was romantic you can’t act like he didn’t charm you in that moment. He liked getting a look an all-around look at you.

There was nothing that Bi-Han wanted more than to have you for himself. There was no other woman in his life that had drawn him in like you had. The compatibility when it came to fighting already made him see you as a worthy partner. Ever since the first time he laid eyes upon you, he wanted you. Your beauty and grace were that of a swan’s, but you had the strength and control of a warrior. You were also someone who didn’t pull away from his touch. Not a flinch or a shiver. You acted as if his body wasn’t cold. To you he never was. You never felt like his personality was cold either since he treated you better than everyone else.

The tournament was soon, meaning you wouldn’t need training anymore. It would be nice to return home once the tournament was over but at the same time, you didn’t want to leave. You adjusted to Artika quickly. You fell for Bi-Han quickly. You didn’t want to leave this all behind. Neither did Bi-Han. Perhaps it’s best to establish a relationship now before it’s too late.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You were on your usual walk, him walking at the side while you skated on the lake. You were in your usual spunky mood. You were spinning and giggling as you glided. It didn’t show on Bi-Han’s face but he was thoroughly enjoying you enjoyment.

“I never asked you before, but is there anyone waiting for you back home?” He asked.

“Just my family. But they rarely see me anyways, so this doesn’t make a huge difference.” You replied.

“There is no one back home that is lucky to have you for themselves?”

You knew what he meant by that. He was asking if you were dating anyone. You grew excited by this, in hopes of him wanting to ask you out.

“Nope, no one is lucky. Why do you ask?” You spun around with a smile on your face as you waited for Bi-Han’s answer.

“No reason.” He replied bluntly.

He kept walking before taking your hand into his. He spun you around to face forward again. You thought you made the wrong assumption until you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders. He never let go of your hand. He doesn’t want to let go.

Bi-Han’s not gonna ask you out in the usual way. This is his way of asking you out and making you his girlfriend. His hands are on you, that’s enough to prove that you are his. That move he just pulled was weirdly smooth and slick like ice. Don’t expect less from him. Just appreciate that he did this for you. For his new, special, gorgeous, and talented girlfriend.

After notes: You know I started this and then I didn't know what I was doing. I added the audio cause I felt like it worked idk you don’t have to work with that. I'm hoping I made some sense. If I didn't...damn. Adiós!

[yutxsgf]

I deeply love to imagine Bakugou as the grumpiest person walking on the earth when he grows up and pursues his heroic dream. But every grump needs his sunshine gf that's terrible at something.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

"It's done!"

An ash-blonde tuft of hair peeked out from the kitchen doorframe before moving out from behind the wall with his softened scowl.

You glanced over your shoulder behind you at the tall male, smiling softly as you beamed him a loving gaze.

"Gonna pass me one or keep smilin' at me?"

He crossed his arms, a faint smile making its way on his lips before he began striding towards your bent figure as you took your homemade cookies out of the oven.

"Can't I do both?" You hummed before hissing when you accidentally touched the hot pan with your non-mittened hand.

His eyes barely widened before he quickly made his way over to you, looming over you as he stood behind you with your wrist in his overly large hand. "Idiot." He mumbled before rubbing your hand with his calloused fingers.

You huffed, rolling your eyes before pointing down at the cookies on the pan.

You were pretty adamant on learning how to bake. Why? Because you were absolutely ass at it. But that never stopped Bakugou from encouraging you and supporting each and every one of your pastries. But of course, since you weren't the best at baking, you can only guess how they'd come out.

"They look great, honey." He mumbled, kissing your cheek before taking a dark obsidian black, supposedly chocolate chip cookie.

You smiled brightly at your boyfriend as he took a hearty bite out of your cookie, your happiness never deterring as he kept a straight face.

That was all that mattered.

"So.. how are they..?" You whispered, turning around to face him as you craned your neck up.

He hummed in thought before throwing the rest of the cookie in his mouth and sticking his thumb up with approval.

He swallowed, clearing his throat before pointing behind you at the cookies, "Gonna give 'em to the group, that okay?"

"Of course!" You smiled, "Can I come? I wanna see their reactions and take some tips."

"'Course baby, go get dressed." And with a light tap on your behind, you were off to your shared bedroom with a small skip in your step.

"What are those." Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, pointing a slim finger at the cookies in a small zip lock baggy.

"My cookies." You replied before Bakugou could, glancing up at the charcoal in your boyfriend's hands.

The group froze before simultaneously nodding together. You took nothing of it, but Bakugou did as he sent a deathly glare to each of them.

"Go on, pick one." Bakugou grumbled, keeping his stone cold glare as he carefully opened the bag and spread it large enough for their hands to fit through.

Sero and Kaminari gulped, clearing their throat before reluctantly taking the so-called cookie from the baggy. Ashido, Kirishima, and Jirou following soon after.

"Hey, babe, can you go get us some water over there?" Bakugou asked quietly, pointing to the water dispenser near the corner of his unnecessarily large office.

You happily obligated, nodding before shuffling over to the dispenser with your fluffy winter boots.

"One negative thing, 'n I'm slitting all of your goddamn throats."

"Yes, sir." Kaminari and Sero saluted foolishly as the rest froze, seemingly lost in thought as they stared at your cookie. wondering how in the world did it get that bad.

You quickly came back with both arms full of plastic cups filled with water. Bakugou was quick to set the cookies down on his desk and grab all the waters from your grasp.

When you smiled expectedly at them, they all glanced at each other before sighing and taking a reluctantly large bite.

"They're– They're um.." "They're awesome!" Kirishima finished for Kaminari, nudging his arm behind their bodies before gulping down his bite.

You happily squealed, jumping up and down before hugging your boyfriend at his neck.

And then, he smiled.

"Say a thing, and I'll kill you."

[luveline]

I am humbly requesting a steve zombie au where the reader gets hypothermia hehehe😌

ty for ur humble request babe ♡ steve zombie au —steve freaks when you show symptoms of hypothermia. fem!reader 2k

"Steve, I think there's something wrong." 

Steve raises his head to show he's listening, keeping his gaze on the map. You say it through shivers, sleeves pulled down over your makeshift mittens. "What's wrong, honey?"

He's noticed you aren't yourself today, and he thinks a soft tone is the least he can give you. The stupid map in his hand is tattered, creased down the middle from folding and unfolding. He thought getting to Michigan would be easy, walk in one direction and keep on, but you both need to eat and rest and the weather is too cold to go any further. He needs to find a residential, tonight. 

"I feel off. I'm tired and I…" Your mumbling drifts off. 

Steve shoves the map under his arm, "What? Tell me." 

"Cold," you say, slurred, offering your hands. "I can't feel my fingers." 

You're wearing socks over your hands, the best gloves Steve could offer. He takes them with a severe frown, unhappy when the cold of your skin permeates through. You're ice. 

"And you don't feel well?" he asks, feeling up your arm to your neck. 

Steve digs under the layers of your shirts, hoodie, coat, feeling for your pulse. It feels alarmingly slow. He'd never guess from looking at you how slow your heart is pumping. 

Steve doesn't know everything, but he knows you're not supposed to be this cold for this long. You shiver as his fingers warm your neck, a pained hum coming from the very back of your throat as he pulls you in for a hug. 

"Okay," he says, rubbing your back even though he knows it's pointless. "Don't worry. We can't stay outside anymore, huh?" 

Steve aches to have to drag you down road after road, stretches of streets littered with little protection to offer. The roadside stores here are rocked by the elements, windows smashed and ceilings caving in. You're stumbling by the time a crop of houses appear in the distance, lethargic. Steve thought it was bad that you were cold, of course, but this is a more primal fear. You're not cold, you're freezing, actively freezing. 

"You're okay," he says again, his gentlest reassurance. "Sweetheart, just a few more minutes. See that house, the big brown shutters? That's where we're going. Can you do it?" 

"I can do it," you murmur. 

"I know, but it's my turn to ask stupid questions." 

Dead trees line the street, a planter of flowers by the door turned to crisps. Steve props you against a beam of wood holding up the angled porch roof and opens the screen door. He tries the handle on the interior. It's locked, a good sign. 

He's admittedly feeling the adrenaline of your imminent demise. Furious with the world and circumstances and himself for letting this happen, Steve kicks the door down with three big kicks. The bang rings like a shot through the entire neighbourhood, he imagines, but there's no time to worry about it. 

"You have to–" little gasp, Steve's head hurts, "have to sweep the house," you say as he pulls you inside. 

If there's something in here, he has to risk it. Out of options. 

He's as softhanded as he can manage dropping you into a seemingly intact couch. The room appears untouched from whoever left it, rather plush, it's a room Steve would've liked to live in. 

He grabs your face. You meet his eyes, startled. 

"I'm going upstairs for blankets. If something happens, you yell for me as loudly as you can. You don't have to say anything, just scream. Seriously." 

"Yeah," you say breathlessly. The last street of walking and the few steps has exhausted you. 

"Don't sleep," he says severely. 

"No, I won't." 

Steve dumps his bag on the floor. He backtracks to the porch to grab yours and wedges the splintered door closed using your bag as a temporary stopper. 

You must be hypothermic, cold for days, too cold to sleep last night, and it's all Steve's fault. We can do it, he'd said, just another push. He hoped for better standing further out of Indiana. None of it will matter if you get sick. 

He spins to walk up the stairs, falls weak and rushes back into the living room to check on you. 

"Everything's okay," he says, taking your face again into his hands and kissing your forehead. It's purely selfish. 

You touch his elbow. "I know." 

Steve takes off his jacket and puts it over your lap. The house is vaguely warmer than outdoors but it's far from enough to make a difference to you. Heart in his throat, he bounds up the stairs and onto the landing, an L-shape with one bedroom straight in front and four doors on left. The smell of gore coming from the closed master bedroom explains how it could be this clean; it wasn't uncommon at the start of the apocalypse for people to lock themselves in, kill themselves and their families. He has no interest in seeing it, nor unleashing the mould spores that come with decomposition. Whatever blankets were in there are worthless now. 

He takes a left and opens the door with a slam. A teenage bedroom not unlike his own back home, a simple comforter on the bed. He grabs it and tosses it on the landing, dipping into the second room. Bathroom, nothing worth having. The third room is a utility room with a jackpot of folded sheets, towels, padded quilts, and a comforter rolled into a log. He throws everything onto the floor and forgets the fourth door, arms fit to burst with fabric as he descends back downstairs. 

"Steve?" you ask.

"Yep, yes. I'm here." He drops the blankets at your feet. "Are your clothes damp?" 

"I think… no." 

"I'd tell you to take off your jacket," he begins, shaking the biggest comforter out over you as he talks, "but I want as many layers as possible. Come here, sweetheart. Lift your back a little." He tucks you in like a pastry. "Good. Good, thank you, sweetheart." 

"You're being very nice," you mumble, your eyelashes twitching like you've dimes weighing down your eyelids. 

"I'm always nice." 

"No," you say, your head falling back into the couch cushions. It's a family couch made of soft fabrics, not the showy leather piece you'd expect in such a mammoth lodging. "You're okay, though." 

Steve piles blankets on top of you. The cold is eating at him too, his nose stiff, his hair standing on end as gooseflesh ripples over his arms. 

When you've been sufficiently sandwiched, he feels your face again. You're already warmer, his hand creeping down into your shirt to feel for your pulse. Ropey. 

"Sweetheart, I need you to try and perk up," he says, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

"Not feeling perky." 

"Ah, but you're always perky. You're my sun, 'cos I'm so awful," he says, panic lining his plea. "You are. I'm going to make you something hot to eat." 

"Hot air?" you ask, slinking further down into your hump of sheets. 

"I think we might be in luck." 

He speaks too soon, really. The cupboards are lackluster. The can of soup he'd been hoping to find doesn't materialise. But there's a small can of ravioli, enough salted fish to make any tom cat happy, and a jug of water beneath the sink. He looks at it and sighs in relief. You have two litres of rainwater in your bag, and that had been the rations. This is one less thing to worry about. 

Steve makes sure that there kitchen door and the patio doors in the lonely dining room are locked, taking a big cooking pot from the pantry (depressingly empty bar a bag of sugar spilled on its side and a sack of grain) and a saucepan from atop the stove. He checks the gass but he's never that lucky, resigning himself to a typical campfire when it doesn't work. 

"Steve, put it back on," you say as he comes back in, your eyes a little wider, slightly more alert. You've pulled your arms out from under the blankets, with his jacket in your hands. 

Steve has kissed you before. You haven't talked about it out loud —he'd like to think a lot has been said in hand-holding, in spooning, and in you hand carding through his hair. He's eager to kiss you again, dumping his findings to hold your wrists. "Thank you," he says, kissing you clumsily, your lips cold. "Now put your arms in. I'll pull the blankets up." 

"Can you kiss me again?" 

"I'm trying to make you some hot water." 

"I'm warm enough already. Please?" 

Steve kisses you again. This time, he closes his eyes, puts his hand against your jaw. The sound of your lips pressing to his seems loud in the quiet. 

He pulls away with a final peck. "Are you feeling warmer?" 

You blow breath up your face. "Bet so." 

Steve rolls his eyes and turns away to make a campfire in the stolen pot. He'll boil some water in the saucepan for you to hold like a risky hot water bottle, and make some warmed ravioli. It'll be sweet. And tomorrow, if you're feeling better, he'll scavenge for supplies in the neighbourhood. Tonight, he'll burn the kitchen chairs. They don't need them anymore. 

"Settle in," he says, opening his backpack for the fire starters and matches. "We'll stay for a while, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay. Sorry for the fuss." 

"Are you kidding?" He can't look at you. He'll probably cry. "It's cold. You were cold, and we didn't– I knew your coat wasn't good enough but I just thought… well, it's my fault. It is. And I– I care about you so much," —he says it in a rush, true but unused to admitting his feelings to you or anyone— "I can't do this without you. I'll take better care of you, I swear. It won't happen again." 

"You know what would really warm me up?" you ask. 

Steve turns on his heel. "Let me make you something to eat." 

"Not hungry, just cold." 

Steve tamps down a giddy smile into one more respectable. "Let me feel your pulse," he relents, lifting the heavy layer of blankets to climb inside. Its roasting, the warmest he's felt in weeks, and your arm is alive as he slides into your side. 

He puts his hand against your neck, waiting for a steady bump. 

"Am I cured?" you ask. 

Steve sighs in relief. "You're cured." 

You wrap your arms around him. Life with you and in this situation is an endless rise and fall. Something shitty happens, you scrape by, and, as a victory, he gets to hug you in the end. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Steve asks. 

"You just said I was cured, Steve," you mumble, digging your face into his shoulder. "Just. Stay here. Keep feeling me up." 

"Not what I'm doing." 

[schoenpepper]

Back for the holidays, I guess

Intro: Traveling back to your small hometown was meant to clear up your thoughts regarding your engagement. A tall, handsome, and slightly sadistic mer eel makes that a bit difficult.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, kinda yandere jade but not really

Masterlist

Jade's Birthday Countdown

“You’ll be leaving tomorrow?”

Jade looks at you with an emotion that you might almost mistake for sorrow, the red plaid scarf you’d given him for Christmas whipping about in a flurry of tiny snowflakes. His hands, clad in a cute pair of knitted mittens the two of you had bonded over by the fireplace, come up to cup your frosted cheeks in its fuzzy warmth.

You nod. “I can’t stay here, Jade. He’s waiting for me.”

His lips curl down into a pout like that of a petulant child.

“And why must you return to him?”

“Because…”

“Because you love him?”

You pause. The easiest way to get out of this conversation is by agreeing. You loved him. Right? You know you did, at least once. But does that still hold true now? Can your love stand against this whirling typhoon of a man standing in front of you? When you’ve spent the last month away from your fiance, have you ever actually thought of him more than you’ve thought about Jade and the space he takes up in your life?

“Because we’re getting married soon.”

You can never lie to Jade. He knows you too well.

As expected, Jade smiles. His hand slips down to your own, and he fiddles with the outline of your ring that’s poking out from your own gloves. “You’re not.”

“What do you mean?”

He leans in to rest his forehead against yours.

You know him well enough too, don’t you?

“Your fiance, unfortunately, seems to have been caught up in a work scandal and is currently facing charges for up to five years in prison,” the way he says it is so light and cheerful, and you can only sigh because really, what did you expect?

Jade Leech isn’t the type of person to just let you go.

“So stay with me, Y/N.”

He’s the type to chain you down under lock and key, sinking you with him in the ocean.

“...Okay.”

[wittlesissyb4by]

Piggy

"Oh my god! Hey! I saw you from the road, are you okay??

They got you in a fucking cage? Who put you here??

Ohp, silly me, I guess you can't really speak with that gag on...

Wait. Are you...are you that fucking creep that was making those sleezy remarks to my girlfriends and I on the sidewalk?? You followed us around for like an hour! It was scary! And gross!! Fucking pig!

Is that why you're locked in a cage? Huh? You a wittle piggy?? Oink for me you little bitch! Oink for me and I might let you out! There's a key over there on the mat! OINK!!

That's better.

Did you fuck with the wrong person, huh?? Is that why you're out here? Baking in the heat and on full display for everyone that walks by--

wait...what the fuck are you wearing?? Is...is that...a diaper?!

No fucking way.

Turn around, let me see!

Come on! I know it's tight. Flip around.

*gasp*

It is a diaper!! HAHAHAHA!! Oh my god!! It's so big and droopy and plump and *sniff*

Ohggh!! It smells awful!! Did you...shit yourself??

Ewww!! That's fucking disgusting!!

But it looks like you didn't have much of a choice, did you? Are those mittens lockable? Seems so...

Well, serves you fucking right, creep! You want to act like a pig? Get treated like one. Waddle in your fucking filth for all I care!

Actually...that gives me an idea. Since you wanna be dirty little pervert, how about you rub your self? Right here. Right now.

That's right, rub your fucking diaper! Mush that mess around! Press against your pampers! Rub your little dickie inside!

I bet it's teeny tiny, isn't it? Losers like you usually aren't packing. Unless you count packing those pampers...

Keep rubbing! Make your wittle piggy noises!! That's right! Grunt and oink for me!! You want your fucking key? You want out of your little fucking cage? Then prove it. Rub your fucking diaper!

Actually...I got a better idea...why don't you not touch your diaper at all? I want you to get on the fucking ground and hump it! I want you to pound your wittle poopy pampurrs into the pavement. That's right!! Wittle piggy's gonna play in the mud! A little mud slide on the ground! Come on! Get down! Now.

Thaaaat's it! Show me how much you want out of your fucking cage!

Why don't I hear you oinking? I want the neighbors down the BLOCK to hear you!! Even through that fucking gag!

Harder! Faster! Hump, Piggy!!

Why are you stopping? Are you...did you...no fucking way. Just when I thought you couldn't get any more pathetic, look at you. Did you cum already? That was like...30 seconds. Pitiful.

Well...I don't know who locked you in here, but I sure as fuck ain't letting you out! In fact, I think I'm gonna go get my friends to come see the pampered piggy! Keep humping. I want that diaper even stickier and muddier by the time I get back!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[catboymoments]

I'm sure this has been answered before, but tumblr search fails me, so I guess I'll ask again: how old were Azura and Mittens when Mittens was adopted by the Nocedas? And how long was the onboarding process between "meeting this potential new family" and "actually for realsies getting adopted"?

mittens was four and azura had just turned ten :3 the onboarding process took about a month, it was expedited because luz and amity had already completed most of the required paperwork to adopt or foster back when they thought they wouldnt be able to have a bio kid.

[sociopathicartist]

“vanilla?”

“No.”

“lavender?”

“No!”

“i give up.” Sans tossed his hands up in defeat, falling back onto the couch to sink into.

You rolled your eyes, lighting up a tea light candle you had and setting it on the coffee table. “You only guessed two times. It’s coconut.”

“how the hell was i supposed to guess coconut? we aren’t in hawaii, babe.” He complained, unamused by the scent of your candles.

There had been a power outage about an hour ago due to the storms outside. While you weren’t scared of the storms you did happen to be a bit scared of your entire house being pitch black, so you turned on the flashlight to your phone and started setting out tea light candles everywhere in your house. You saved them up since power outages happened a lot during the stormy summer weather.

As you had been lighting up the kitchen, your boyfriend suddenly appeared. You freaked out and almost whacked him across the skull with the lighter, which he backed up and tried to ease your freak out with a simple ‘ let’s not get things too heated, babe. ‘

Naturally, he was very amused by how you had managed to light up almost every main area in your house with little candles. He kept wandering around your house to see all the lights and would blow one or two out to annoy you, but stopped after that. Now he was just occupying himself with asking random questions while you were putting the candles out, like what their scent was.

“okay okay, you get to be alone with me for the whole week or get one dinner with ryan gosling.” Sans questioned, waving his hand up at the ceiling while he spoke.

You sighed as you placed two more candles on your TV stand. “You already know my answer. You, obviously. Even before dating you, I wasn't appealed much at the thought of dating a man.”

Sans snorted, a small twinge of blue coming up on his face. “awww, really? i guess you’re really into skeletons, you necrophile.”

“Human fetish.”

“maybe. me personally, i would choose ryan gosling.”

You turned around to walk over to him on the couch, setting the lighter down on the coffee table. “You’re a big liar and you know it. Now move or be moved.”

Sans chuckled and sat up, scooting a bit to the side as you wormed your way next to him on the couch. The layout didn’t work at first, and you both exchanged an awkward look before you moved to sit in between his legs, your back resting against his ribs. His arms rested over your chest, his mandible sitting on the top of your head. Comfortable.

“you know, i’m not critiquing your choices here, but you lit up the whole house when we won't be anywhere but the living room and bedroom,” Sans spoke to you, his voice lowered down to an attractively quiet tone which only assisted with how correct his words were.

You shook your head, your hands going to rest over his. Why did he have his mittens on right now? “Nuh-uh. Who said I was taking you up to my bedroom?”

Sans scoffed, but you could tell he was being facetious. “i was meaning to sleep, you perv.”

“Sure you were. And my candles my choices, pal. You showed up out of nowhere and choose to sit here and make fun of me for being scared of the dark.” You paused your complaints, leaning forward a bit to turn your head and look back at him. “Why did you come over here out of nowhere again?”

Sans took one of his hands off your chest, bringing it up to brush some hair out of your face while he spoke to you. “just thought you’d want the company. i know you don’t like the dark, and paps is sleeping anyway.”

You smiled and leaned your face into his hand, a bit glad he was thinking of you. There wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t, but it still made you happy nonetheless. “It was a very nice surprise. I’m glad you showed up to protect me from the hallway demons.”

There was an attempt from Sans to run his hand through your hair while he listened to you, but since he had his mittens on it was just slipping over the top of your head and making your hair all staticky. He found it a bit amusing to do even after you tried batting his hand away.

“you didn’t need to light the candles you know.” He suggested another solution, successfully nagging your attention.

You know him well enough for it to only take 3 seconds to realize what he was getting behind.

“i have something that glows.” He was holding back laughter, partially from his upcoming joke and partially because of your expression.

“Shaddap. You come over to my house and make disgusting jokes. How sick.” You moved your head away from his hand, trying to pat down the static he was causing.

Sans’ hand kept trying to rub on your hair, his mitten charged up with electric static now.

He snickered, both his hands cupping your face to make you look at him. “deez nuts.”

“Out of my house.” You let him hold onto your face, enjoying the little shenanigans he was up to.

He didn’t answer back with a witty pun or joke, instead just pulling you down to rest your head on his chest. “there there. it must be so hard having such a hilarious boyfriend.”

“No.” You wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to snuggle into his embrace.

It was hard to cuddle up to him sometimes because he was always shifting around or letting his hands roam on you until you had to call him out to stop so that you could both go to sleep. Unless he was sleeping or pretending to sleep, he seemed to have a difficult time staying in one place for too long. Sometimes though, you’d catch him after he had an exhausting day and you’d both just hold each other in comfortable silence, not moving an inch or saying a word for hours. Those were some of your favorite days.

“Sans?” You called out his name after a few minutes of quiet.

“yeah, babe?” He answered immediately, one of his hands gently rubbing up and down your back while the other petted your hair.

You thought for a few moments about your question. “How did you first know when you liked me?”

Sans inhaled deeply. He loved asking and answering these silly little romance questions with you, but sometimes it was difficult to find the correct words for an answer.

“i just knew. i looked over to you and the realization hit me. there were no second thoughts or doubts about it.”

You stared at the wall for a few moments, your thumb rubbing small circles on the back of his vertebrae just above the hood on his jacket. Your candles were starting to burn out. You needed to light up new ones in a bit.

You kept your voice quiet to match his, acting as if speaking too loud would break the moment. “Do you remember when it was?”

“oh, yeah.” His smile tugged up a bit on the ends, his genuine smile showing through at the thought of the memory. “you want me to tell you about it so that i can gush over you?”

“Yes, please.”

“okay, uhhh,” He paused before recapping his memory with you. “you were at my house. in my room to be more specific. i was showing you through one of my video games since you hadn’t played it before, but i was kinda off that day.”

It was weird to him to think about because he didn’t remember why he wasn’t feeling well that day, or what video game he was showing you. He just remembered you.

“you somehow noticed, and you asked me what was up. whenever i told you nothing was up except for the ceiling, you told me to stop lying. you said you could tell by the way my voice sounded, and how my smile drooped down just a tad. i don’t even remember if i ended up answering you, but i know i was quiet for a while. nobody had ever uh… ever seen me like that before.”

You listened to him speak. His hands had stopped moving around on you entirely, just resting on the small of your back comfortably. “Yeah?”

“yeah. i don’t know why it was like that, but it was like i was dragged out of the little reality in my head where i was noticed by everyone but not noticed enough to be cared about like that. and the worry in your voice. you just looked like a different person in that moment and from then on. it was like i saw you clearly after looking through fogged glass.”

Sans always had a really good use of his words whenever he chose to use them instead of being silly. This was one of those moments where you were fully convinced that you could listen to him talk for hours.

“I love you.”

“i love you too.”

You weren’t sure if the rush of being able to tell him that you loved him and having him respond with such little hesitation would ever go away. Sans wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to it either.

All your candles had begun to burn out since they were just little tea lights, leaving you and Sans to succumb to a slow progression of darkness.

His voice broke the silence first, as it usually did. He always had lots of things to say to you. “all your candles are burning out, babe. you wanna light up some more? the power probably won't come back on for the rest of the night.”

The power probably wouldn’t come back on for a while, he was right. “Why don’t we just go to bed? It seems like a waste to light everything again when it’s so late at night, and I know you’re tired.”

“up to bed?” His voice took back a joking tone, and you braced yourself for the devious intentions behind his words. “no need for a candle, i know something that glows, hehe.”

“Sans… Don’t say it. It doesn’t get funnier the more that you say it.”

“deez nuts in your face.”

thanks for reading:3 it’s been storming really bad down where i live, so i wanted to write a little drabble for it. uploads might be a bit slow since finals during school r catching up to me, sorry! have a lovely night:)

[marvelobsessed134]

The girl who works at the hot chocolate stand at Rockefeller

Reposted from my Wattpad.

This is part of my 12 days of fics

Pairings: Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: in which Kate Bishop buys too many hot chocolates

It's that time of year again. The temperature drops, tiny snowflakes fall from the sky, everyone scrambles to get their holiday shopping done, while making cookies and getting bundled up in red PJs to watch Christmas films. Some people drop the needle down on their Christmas vinyls.

You love everything about this time of year. The cozy vibes, magical feeling, and family gatherings. Which is why you work the hot chocolate stand at Rockefeller center every year. You love watching people ice skate and gathering the tree for the lighting. When you're off your job you join in, and enjoy the holiday magic.

As you prepared orders, you thought about what to get your little sister for christmas. And decided on an American Girl doll. She loves those dolls and has always wanted one, even though they're crazy expensive. But you've saved up a lot for presents this year.

You heard some people whispering and pointing to the entrance. Curious, you looked up to see The Avengers walking around. You heard rumors about them visiting this year as a group, but here they are.

They walked up the stand and got in line.

You made many cups of coco, from ex assassins and super soldiers, to a witch, a guy who can run really fast, a guy with an iron suit,an Asgardian god, and a hulk. And the two world's greatest archers.

One of them, being Kate Bishop. The raven haired girl studied you for a moment. She thought you were extremely beautiful. She got too caught up in her thoughts when she didn't notice you had finished making her drink.

"Uh, Ms. Bishop? Your drink is ready." You spoke up and she shook her head and took the warm styrofoam cup. "I'm sorry, thank you..."

"Y/n." you responded with a warm smile.

She smiled back at you.

"Y/n." she repeated and she walked back t0 the group of supers.

"Well...you seemed very occupied over there." Natasha smirked while Yelena let out a laugh.

Kate rolled her eyes.

"Okay, whatever."

"Come on guys! Let's go ice skating!" Steve exclaimed. The team started skating around, but Kate couldn't keep her mind off of you. She wanted to see you again. So, she bought another cup of hot chocolate. And another one. And in the words of DJ Khaled, another one. Till you finally spoke up about it.

"You must really like hot chocolate, don't you?"

Her face turned crimson.

"I-uh, yeah. I guess you could say that. Um, when do you get off?"

You smirked at her question.

"Whenever I can. Which happens to be right now." you responded.

Kate smiled and you closed up the stand, getting bundled back up in your mittens and coats. And your All Too Well scarf you bought from Taylor Swift's merch store.

She took you by the hand.

The two of you talked for awhile before the tree lighting ceremony started. You stood with Kate by the rest of the team. And as soon as the lights on the tree came on, she grabbed your face in her hands and pressed her lips to yours.

You happily kissed her back.

This was definitely the most magical Christmas you've ever experienced.

[after-witch]

(For Mahito)

"Could we go out and see the Christmas lights today?"

note: yandere, kidnapped reader, vague violence implications

--

You ask the question as casually as you feasibly can. You don't even look up from your book, or from your spot on the ground, where you're currently nestled on top of a pile of mismatched, patchwork quilts and blankets taken from here and there and dropped on the cement for you to arrange like some sort of comfort-starved underground rat.

But the casual pretense didn't appear to work.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you hear the hammock creak, and ah--when you look up, there it is.

Mahito is already leaning over the side of his hammock, upside down, current book discarded, a lopsided grin on his face and keen interest in his eyes.

"Oh? Why do you want to see them? Are Christmas lights important to you?"

Your heart speeds up, and you cover your chest with your book, stupidly, like that will hide what your sure is a pulse in your soul.

"No," you lie, turning a page. "I just thought it might be a change of pace from our usual night." You shrug, and curl up further into the blankets. "If you don't want to, it's fine. I don't really care."

"Hey!"

You hear the creaking rope again before there's the tell-tale sound of Mahito's feet hitting the ground. His voice has gone up an octave, and he draws the words out childishly as he plops himself down on your nest of blankets.

You don't look back at him, still, despite the increase in your heart rate. Despite the bead of sweat on your forehead. Despite the way your muscles tell you that you ought to be moving away.

"I didn't say I didn't want to!" He whines, before he simply plucks the book from your hands and tosses it aside, forcing you to--in slow, carefully orchestrated movements--give him your attention.

He grabs your mouth and squishes your lips together.

"Are they fun? I bet they're fun--tell me!"

Living with Mahito has given you the uncanny ability to plan ahead more than your body wants to; desperately, your mind, your muscles, everything wants to react quickly to the danger he presents. But that's the riskiest thing in the world, so you force yourself to think before you act.

"Well," you say, considering slowly, "They can be very beautiful, especially when it's dark outside. And when the weather is chilly, it gives everything the perfect winter atmosphere... like you're walking around in some fairytale or a cheesy movie. Or a snowglobe, if it happens to snow."

You shift on the blankets, propping yourself up on your elbow.

"And if you're walking downtown, there's usually other things you can do while you look at them. Window shop... oh," you don't bite back the smile, "Because everything is way too expensive, especially around Christmas. But it's nice to pretend. Or you can get hot chocolate." You lick your lips, imagining the sweet, warm liquid on your tongue. How long has it been since you've had something sweet that wasn't stolen, half-eaten, or questionably old?

"Nothing better than looking at Christmas lights on a cold night with some hot chocolate, you know? As long as you've got a cozy hat and some mittens, it's not so bad to be outside. It all adds up, I guess, to be something magical."

You're smiling, when you finish. And oh, oh, you've let yourself get too carried away. Let nostalgic make your heart beat-beat-beat too easily.

Because Mahito is staring at you with a cat-ate-the-canary grin on his face, his gaze locked firmly on your own as you realize your mistake.

His lips curl.

"Oh, pet. Your soul is humming," he whispers. His fingers grip the flesh of your side and squeeze casually, making you jerk, though there's nowhere to go.

"Will it hum like that if I take you? Or differently? Better? Worse?" He digs his fingers harsher into your side and tugs you close. His lips open again and you get the oppressive feeling of a thousand questions lingering behind them, waiting to burst out. Questions that would make you squirm, make you want to heave, make you grip your palm until it bled.

But he doesn't ask any more than that. Instead, he pecks your nose with his lips, leaving a wet splotch. "Well, I want to find out!"

And then he's off you, leaping to his feet with a giggle.

You stare up at him stupidly, feeling like your heart has been scooped out (by him, who else--who ever?) and dropped back in.

When you don't move, he grabs your wrist and yanks you unsteadily to your feet, so that you're forced to cling to his arm to avoid face-planting onto the concrete.

"I hope you don't mind stolen hot chocolate," he says, leading you on wobbly legs deeper into the sewer, where--somewhere--there is a way out. "Unless some of the clothes from my experiments have cash on them... well, let's look next time."

[atarathegreat]

It's Cold

December was always freezing in Tokyo, the only people who never really felt it being those lucky enough to have warm quirks. You always thought it was strange to see people in tank tops and shorts all year round, a few even keeping their quirks activated while they walked through the deep snow on the cold concrete. No one could complain, the warmth was melting the freezing flakes and leaving the sidewalks safe to trek on.

No one appreciated it more than you did, however. Your quirk was never meant to keep you warm or even, really, be all that useful. The setback of winter never kept you from your daily walks and visiting the coffee shop, the clear sidewalks always made it better. You always kept two cylinders of salt in your backpack, sprinkling it where you walked to keep the snow from sticking, because even with quirks people could slip and fall. Also in your bag, next to a couple bottles of water and pain killers, was a box of Hot Handz, mittens, and a fairly packed first aid kit. Being prepared in the super powered world was important, even if you were mostly prepped with regular items.

You pulled your thick jacket a little closer as you smiled to those you passed. The wind was biting and making your cheeks pink and making your teeth rattle together, you assumed it made for a very scary smile. Why else was no one smiling back?

"Whoa!" A small, too small, patch of ice made your heel twist and send you falling backward. Closing your eyes, you braced for the impact that never came, instead a red feather tickled your nose as smooth laughter poured down on you. "Easy, kid, the snow will get ya' out here." Pro hero Hawks was perched upon the wide street light, his thicker winter outfit doing little to keep him warm, if you had to guess from his matching pink cheeks and the way his wings shivered.

A smile tugged at your lips as you kicked to dislodge the ice, "Thank you!"

He didn't need thanks, it was his job to help people. Sure, it wasn't like you were in danger from anything but a busted tailbone, but he was a hero. You waved up at him, pouring a small amount of salt in the area before continuing on. Hawks watched you with confusion. Why was a civilian doing a task that the city was already getting paid to do? He shrugged, crouching to keep himself warm while he kept watch for the next hour or so.

Espresso and coffee beans is the smell that welcomed you. Wrapped you in the softest blanket and kissed your head before passing you a nice pastry. Few patrons turned to see who had let in a small amount of the cold, even fewer seeming to care about your arrival. The barista smiled and greeted you, asking if you'd like your normal order. "Can I also get a strawberry strudel, a warm black coffee with a couple packets of creamer, and two cans of the iced coffee?" You dug in your bag for your wallet as the girl rang up your order. Typically you would sit and watch the snowflakes fall on the big window overlooking the street, but today you made other plans.

So you tucked the strudel and cans of coffee in your bag, carrying the two tall and hot cups in your hands. It would tweak your morning routine, but you felt that it was worth it, even if it only brought a smile to someone's face.

"Hawks, sir!" You called up to the feathery man, motioning to the cup in your hands, "Care for a cup?"

He landed easily next to you, making you happier in your decision to bring him something warm when you heard his teeth clacking together. You passed him his cup, pulling your bag around, "I also got you a strawberry strudel, some iced coffees and here is some creamer, just in case you don't like black coffee."

Hawks tilted his head as you passed him everything, "You don't have to buy things for heroes, kid. We're practically made of money." And yet, you only shrugged at him, "This saves you time!"

As much as he wanted to argue that you shouldn't spend money on him, you were right. You had saved him time that he could now use doing his job or taking his break. "Thanks. What's your name?" Hawks pulled the cardboard sleeve off the cup, writing a small thank you on it before passing it back to you, "Cool name, take care, okay?"

You waited until you were a fair distance away and replaced the sleeve on your cup with the one the hero had written on. It was a sweet gesture that you had done for a hero, one that Hawks would tell to everyone at the agency for days upon days, especially when you made it a frequent part of your routine.

Everyday, without fail, you would walk under him with a bright smile and a wave, returning within the hour and passing him a warm coffee and a strudel, he liked his coffee black so you didn't need to buy creamer packets. One his day off he stood against the light post, casual clothes under an incredibly thick winter coat. He wasn't really sure why he cared so much to see you walk by, but the idea of you not smiling at him made him...upset? He didn't know, but he wanted to see you smile.

"Hey, hey!" He stepped forward as you walked up, "What's up, kid?"

You smiled, passing him a Hot Handz, "It's getting colder these days, so I'm trying to stay active!"

Any hero could admire that, especially from a person like you. Someone who fought to be kind to everyone, or maybe you were just kind by nature and didn't realize that people were assholes. "You into walks that much, huh?" Hawks held a wing over your head to keep the falling ice from collecting in your hair. He narrowed his eyes as your shrugged, "It's always just been a part of my routine."

"Fair enough. Can't say I enjoy the cold weather any more than the next guy." Hawks smirked. For a pro hero, you thought, he sure was normal. Or as normal as a man with wings could be. "So why aren't you on your light this morning?" You asked. He looked over at you, shaking his wing a little to get rid of the accumulating snow, "Day off, didn't want you to miss me."

He wanted to play it off perfectly. To have you, a complete stranger, know that you made his heart nearly explode with your kindness, that he looked forward to your daily smile, that he liked your face and the pink that the cold put on your cheeks. Now that he'd heard you laugh, heard your sweet giggle, he was smitten. "You'll be joining me at the coffee shop then this morning?" You asked, looking up and noticing your new shelter, "I know I sure could use the warmth of the shop this morning."

For the first time, everyone stared as you opened the door. The little bell chimed, giving you away, of course, but it was the hero at your side that really made them watch you. To your relief, the barista greeted you as usual. Hawks followed you up to the counter, leaning carefully across it and staring at you as you ordered the same thing as every other morning, just not to-go. "Finally taking a break?" The girl smiled at you, ringing up the order despite knowing the price off the top of her head. Your laughter made the mans wings fluff, only slightly, "Might as well, huh? Nothing wrong with sitting, and it's his day off so I don't have to hurry back."

Before you could pay, Hawks was shoving a card into the chip reader and giving you a cheeky smile, "You pay every other day, can't have you paying today. What kind of man would I be?"

He swore that the barista sighed, or swooned, whatever he caught the end of. Hawks was aware that he was an accidental womanizer, sometimes he was able to use it to his advantage, PR and fans and such. But you didn't seem to be jailed by his charms. You didn't react when his fingers brushed yours handing you the cup, you didn't react when he tucked your chair under you, you didn't even react when he placed his shoe snuggly against yours. You just kept talking about your routine, how you enjoyed the mornings when they were warmer and how bringing him coffee every morning was a nice addition. Just the simple act of bringing him coffee seemed to be enough for you. Did you really have no interest in the hero?

"So, why'd you get me the coffee that first day?" Hawks asked.

You perked up, "You looked cold, and if you were going to be perched on that street light all day then you needed something warm."

A small smirk spread over his lips and he leaned back in his chair, "How thoughtful of you. I'll just say it before I make a fool of myself,"

Hawks took your hand and pulled you closer to him over the table, "I think I like you."

Whatever pink hue the cold had granted you blended in with the new redness he was plastering across your cheeks. A hero liked you? What had you done aside from gifting him coffee? It was the least you thought you could do, seeing as he was always watching over that stretch of road where you walked.

"Say something, yeah?" Hawks squeezed your hand.

"Oh! Oh, uhm..." You stared down into your coffee, your reflection looking startled, "I didn't expect that..."

he chuckled, "Let this be a date? See how ya' carry through?"

December was always freezing in Tokyo, the only people who never really felt it being those lucky enough to have warm quirks. And now you, blushing and smiling as warmth spread through your limbs.