#mittens thoughts i guess

[kumomist]

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

[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. 

[pukefactory]

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I honestly can’t explain how this idea came to me—all I know is that I felt an urgent, feverish need to write it down. It’s strange, bizarre even, but so is the world of Dream BBQ, so perhaps it fits right in. I hope you enjoy reading this odd little concoction as much as I enjoyed bringing it to life.

– COMET

•☽────✧˖°˖ FLOATING BEASTS ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Reader Who Find A Weird Carousel

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ You both stumble across the carousel in the middle of what should have been a very important, very adult job—there were business memos to send, unmarked doors to barge through, and someone important to yell at. Yet here it is. A carousel. Spinning in the middle of a sterile office floor like a memory that broke through the tile. ENA’s Salesperson side presses her clawed hand to her mouth, delighted: “Is this…a divestment opportunity or a horse-based deception?” Her Meanie side slaps the pole. “THIS IS A SICK FREAK THING! IT’S AN ART PIECE, ISN’T IT?! LET ME OFF, LET ME OFF!!!”

☆ The animals on the carousel are not horses. Or anything, really. One of them whispers through its eye: “Take a ride and trade your left regret for something soft.” ENA mounts the one that resembles a fax machine with legs. She looks over her shoulder at you, giggling. “You heard the printer-goat! Come on, up you go! We can’t not ride it. What if the fax goes to heaven without us?”

☆ As the carousel spins, so do the lights. They bend—pastel, then neon, then intrusive office fluorescents. ENA changes mid-rotation. On the upturn, she’s laughing, trying to hand you a melted popsicle she found in her sock. On the downturn, her Meanie side clutches her head. “I THINK I’M DYING! THIS ISN’T HR-APPROVED!!” You’re starting to feel a little dizzy, too.

☆ You two are supposed to be gathering data—some mundane corporate drivel. Instead, ENA is interviewing the beast-animals as they pass, voice recorder pressed to their strange heads. “What are your childhood traumas, and how do they affect your productivity?” she asks a creature with six mouths and a tie. It screams. She nods. “That’s actionable.”

☆ At one point, your seat morphs into something vaguely anatomical. ENA leans across the central pole, eyes glowing. “Wow, are you getting the uterine experience too?! Is this therapy or employee onboarding?” You’re too afraid to answer, so you nod. The animal chair purrs.

☆ The carousel halts, dead stop. All animals blink open their one eye and chant in unison: “SOMEONE MUST GET OFF FIRST.” ENA freezes mid-joke, then slowly turns to you, serious. “We have entered an allegorical stalemate. I nominate you to solve this like a true office champion. I’ll stay here and draft a formal email about my feelings.”

☆ You try to get off. The floor is gone—just smoke and looping elevator music. ENA grabs your wrist with both hands (claw and mitten), face flickering green. “WAIT. You’re too important to me. I mean, to this operation. If you perish in the fog of bureaucracy, who will argue about spreadsheets with me?”

☆ Later, you both lie flat on the slowly spinning platform, dizzy and barely sentient. ENA’s voice is soft now, cradled in the lullaby rhythm. “When I was a kid—well, when I was a beta version, I guess—I thought carousels were escape portals. I still kinda do.” She glances at you. “Maybe we didn’t waste time here. Maybe we…unworked together.”

☆ You two make it off, eventually. The animals bow. One gives ENA a stapler made of bones. Another whispers to you: “Next time, bring her flowers. She doesn’t know she wants them yet.” ENA is already speed walking away. “LET’S FIND THE STUPID BATHROOM ALREADY. THIS WAS A HORRIBLE DAY AND I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT.”

☆ After it’s over, sometimes you catch ENA staring off into nothing, her red side murmuring: “I keep dreaming of that printer-horse…Think it needs me.” She never explains. You never ask. But the next time you see something strange at work—like a balloon tied to a locked supply closet—ENA’s already holding your hand. “Ready to spiral again, business pal?”

[thewertsearch]

TT: [...] I got a little help from RL and ganked it out of his museum. [...] GG: [...] Wasn't he furious about your burglary? TT: Pretty sure he didn't even notice. In years since, I never saw a news story about a "daring heist" or anything. I feel like he would have made some hay outta that.

Lil' Bro thinks he's more likely to get news about Dave from a newspaper than from the man himself.

...yeah, Dave has absolutely no involvement in this kid's life. That's better than giving him the Bro treatment, I guess, but the bar is on the floor.

Jane - the child being brainwashed by an alien - might just have the best home life in her entire friend group. That's fucked up, man.

GG: Why didn't you mention this when you gave the gift? More irony? TT: Essentially. It's not that easy to explain. TT: Broadcasting the gesture would have made it seem tawdry, and would somewhat defray its humor value. GG: I see. So it was like a private joke, and if anyone besides you was in on it, the joke would be ruined! TT: Like I said, there are layers.

Unlike John, Jane is sincerely interested in her friend's post-ironic nonsense. She actually likes this style of humor, and Bro's more than happy to yap philosophical about how it works. I suppose Jane's sense of humor isn't quite as cornball as John's, so she's willing to engage with Bro's more cerebral style of comedy.

As a result...

TT: On one level, I gave you a filthy tattered piece of shit[...] TT: On another level, I needed to incorporate something passable as a real heirloom. TT: For sentimental reasons. GG: D'awwwww. GG: Wait, real sentiment, or ironic sentiment? TT: No, it was genuine. TT: The upper echelons of irony should always include measures of sincerity. [...] GG: I have so much to learn. And I am not even saying that "ironically!"

...they're kind of besties, aren't they?

GG: Will you teach me your ways one day, sir? Perhaps an apprenticeship will open? TT: Oh god, I'd love that. TT: Consider the position yours for the taking any time. [...]

Like, I said before, it's obvious that Lil' Bro is a lonely kid - so when Jane offers him her company here, I think it means much, much more to him than she realizes.

TT: [...] Feel free to approach and kneel before Cal. With my sword and his floppy mitten, you will receive my flashstep anointment shoulder to shoulder, and to shoulder again.

lmao

I never thought that Bro of all people would be involved in such a wholesome interaction, but I'm pleasantly surprised. If these two end up falling out over the Jake issue, I'm going to be so sad.

[callsigns-haze]

Are You Kidding Me?

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x reader

After the war ends and Xaden is cured, you find out you're pregnant and quietly start preparing for the baby—until one innocent look at a onesie has you spiralling over the size of baby heads. Xaden tries to comfort you, but mostly ends up laughing as you dramatically mourn your future labour. Still, in the middle of all the teasing and ridiculous threats to name your child after Tairn, there's no mistaking the fierce love growing between you both—and not just for the baby.

⚠️ Content Warning: This story contains light-hearted pregnancy humour, dramatic groaning over labour fears, affectionate teasing, and excessive banter between deeply in-love idiots. Mild mentions of childbirth logistics and one (1) emotional moment that may cause unexpected feelings. Proceed with snacks and emotional support dragons.

You stared down at the tiny onesie in your hands, the fabric soft and dyed in a rich midnight blue—almost the same shade as Sgaeyl’s scales when she told Xaden he should try to convince you to rest instead of running combat drills.

It was adorable. The little snaps, the embroidered gryphon, the hood with tiny horns. You’d melted the second you saw it in the little market in Aretia and bought it without thinking.

Well, you’d bought five of them. In different colours. With matching mittens.

You were beaming when you got home—until, about five minutes later, curiosity ruined your bliss.

You glanced down at your bump—just the softest swell under your tunic—and then looked back at the baby clothes on the bed. More specifically, the size of the neck holes. Then your gaze dropped slowly to your legs.

“No,” you whispered. “Absolutely not.”

You picked up the onesie again, holding it by the shoulders and squinting like somehow it was the fabric’s fault. You paced back and forth in the bedroom you shared with Xaden, muttering calculations under your breath, comparing your hips to the fabric like a madwoman.

“This thing’s head is bigger than my—oh gods,” you wheezed.

The door creaked open behind you. “I’m almost afraid to ask,” came Xaden’s voice, amused and warm.

You turned around slowly, holding the onesie out like evidence of a crime. “Do you know how big their heads are?”

His brows rose, then furrowed. “...The babies?”

“Yes, the babies, Xaden.” You gestured wildly to the onesie. “Their heads are this big. This is supposed to come out of me. I don’t think I thought this through.”

He blinked, clearly trying not to laugh. “You… measured?”

“I’m thorough.” You shot him a glare. “Did you know this? Did you know how huge baby heads are?”

“I—” he choked, covering his mouth with his hand. “I mean, I figured you’d read a book or something?”

“I was too busy surviving a war and making out with a six-foot-five former venin duke to read a book about biology.”

That did it. He laughed—loud, full, head-tilted-back kind of laugh. You scowled and smacked the onesie against his chest. He caught it before it could fall and looked down at it, then back at you.

“You already bought clothes,” he said, voice softening as he reached for your hand. “You’re really doing this.”

You sighed and let him pull you into his arms, pressing your cheek against his chest. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I really am.”

He kissed the top of your head, his palm warm as it splayed across your back. “I guess I should start researching baby head dimensions.”

You groaned. “Don’t ever say that again.”

He chuckled. “Deal.”

It started as a low, guttural sound in the back of your throat—one of those dramatic, from-the-depths-of-your-core groans that turned into an actual wordless wail as you flopped face-first onto the bed.

“Uuughhhhhhhhh,” you moaned into the sheets. “This is not what I signed up for. Why did no one warn me? Why did you not warn me?”

Xaden just stood there with the baby outfit draped over one hand, brows raised, trying his hardest not to laugh as you buried your face deeper into the mattress and let out another prolonged, muffled groan.

“I fought wyvern,” you whined into the blankets. “I stared down quadrant leaders. I survived First Year and my mother. And this—this is what’s going to break me?”

Your voice cracked halfway through, which only made Xaden finally lose it. You heard him snort, then cough like he was trying to hide it, which only made you groan louder, full of despair and betrayal.

“You’re not helping!” you shouted into the mattress.

“I didn’t know I needed to warn you about...head circumference.”

You just groaned again.

Drawn-out. Dramatic. And utterly defeated.

Xaden tossed the onesie onto the bed and moved toward you, that smug little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth—the one that meant he was enjoying himself far too much for a man who didn’t have to physically push a tiny, big-headed person out of his body.

“You done?” he asked, crouching beside the bed and brushing your hair back from your face.

You shifted just enough to peek at him with one narrowed eye. “Do I look done?”

He laughed under his breath, resting his arms on the edge of the mattress so he could lean in close. “You look like you’re trying to mentally relocate your uterus to somewhere with a back door.”

“That’s not even funny,” you mumbled, flipping onto your side with a grunt. “There is no door. There’s no way out. Just this one tiny, horrifying tunnel.”

Xaden tilted his head, brows lifting. “I mean… we could always call a healer—”

“Oh my gods,” you cut him off, throwing a pillow at his head. He caught it easily, grinning now.

“You’re so lucky you’re pretty,” you muttered.

“I know,” he said smugly, tossing the pillow back on the bed and climbing in next to you. “But you’re stuck with me either way. And we’re stuck with one very well-endowed baby skull, apparently.”

You flopped back onto his chest with another groan, this one slightly more resigned than the last. “It’s not fair. Why is the head the biggest part? Why not feet? Feet I could deal with.”

Xaden was stroking your back now, trying and failing not to laugh again. “Feet would be far less aerodynamic.”

You hit him. Gently. But still.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I love you,” you muttered, pointing at his chest, “but if I go through twenty hours of labour and this kid pops out looking just like you, I’m going to make sure the entire quadrant knows who’s responsible.”

Xaden smirked, tugging you tighter into his arms. “Let me guess… huge head, dramatic flair, stupidly good hair?”

You squinted up at him, deadpan. “And an ego that can’t fit in a gryphon's saddlebag.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “We’re gonna be fine.”

You sighed, curling closer to him. “You’re damn right we are. But if this baby’s head is bigger than yours, I’m naming them after Tairn.”

Xaden froze. “You wouldn’t.”

You grinned. “Try me, Duke Riorson.”

Xaden was silent for a beat too long.

You looked up at him slowly, brow raised. “What, are you picturing it now? A tiny little baby with a full head of dramatic, windswept black hair screaming its lungs out and breathing shadows?”

He blinked. “I was actually picturing Tairn’s reaction when he finds out. You know he’s going to think it’s a compliment.”

You snorted. “He would. That smug, oversized lizard.”

Xaden’s fingers drifted down to your stomach, his palm warm as it rested against the gentle curve there. His voice dropped lower, more thoughtful. “Still can’t believe there’s someone in there.”

Your smile softened despite yourself. “Someone who already has your stubborn streak, I’m sure.”

He chuckled. “And your ability to terrify an entire room with one look.”

You shrugged. “I learned from the best.”

A quiet settled between you—comfortable and full. Xaden kept his hand over your stomach like he could feel something already, even though you were only just starting to show. He didn’t say anything, just watched you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them during a debrief or a strategy meeting.

You nudged him lightly. “You okay over there? You’re looking at me like I’m going to break.”

He blinked, then shook his head. “I’m just thinking. This time last year, I didn’t know if I’d ever get to have something like this. With you.”

Your heart gave a painful, stupid little thump. You reached up to cradle his jaw, brushing your thumb just beneath the scar on his cheek.

“You came back to me,” you whispered. “That’s all that matters.”

“I’m never leaving again,” he said fiercely. “I don’t care what position I hold. I don’t care what anyone expects. You and this baby—you’re my only priority.”

You were about to say something sappy and heartfelt—and maybe tear up a little—when the baby onesie beside you caught your eye again.

You narrowed your eyes at it.

Xaden noticed. “...Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” you muttered, “I should probably start stretching.”

He groaned. “Gods help me.”

You grinned wickedly. “Oh, you’re not getting out of this. You’re the one who did this to me.”

Xaden raised a brow. “Pretty sure it was mutual.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t order a baby with a melon for a head.”

He laughed, and you buried your face in his chest again, trying to muffle your wheezing. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, strong and steady.

Yeah, you were going to be okay. Even if you were about to give birth to a tiny version of Xaden with a boulder for a skull.

You were so in love, it was actually disgusting.

A/N: I take requests but they probably wont be posted until the summer!

Comments, thoughts and reblogs would be really appreciated

Credit to @empyreanevents for the divider

This fic is for my beautiful wife @thelov3lybookworm

[penny-anna]

ordered some lovely mittens for my 3 year old niece to keep her hands warm ♥

mittens were supposed to arrive yesterday

go out christmas shopping. get a delivery confirmation email.

local evri courier likes to do this thing where for ''''''proof of delivery''''' they just take a picture of themselves holding all the packages for my building while standing outside on the street

this one egregiously terrible. there are 4 packages visible in the photo.

no package outside my front door so i figure it must be down in the stairwell. check the entire stairwell. not there either.

check everywhere i can think of that they might have left a package, including outside the street door, on top of my door frame, behind my neighbour's motorbike, in the garden supply cupboard, etc.

try all of my neighbours. one set answers and says there are 2 packages in the stairwell. there are not anymore but this is useful data as there is also 1 package outside another neighbour's door for a total of 3

where the shit is my package

either the courier left with it or one of my neighbours took it. could in theory still show up but ehhhh.

evri customer service is closed on sundays. call Next (the seller) instead. they graciously offer to just replace it with next day delivery.

hooray!!

at the office all day today but that's fine, as stated above the evri courier does not give a shit

sitting at my desk today. notice i have a message request from a stranger on facebook. accept it.

'hi did you used to live at [OLD STREET NAME] and have a package delivered there by mistake?'

(important context: i have a pretty distinctive last name. if you search my name on facebook i am the only person in edinburgh who comes up)

over the weekend i ordered various things for christmas, including an ebay order that i did accidentally send to my old address so my first thought is that it's that which doesn't make any sense because I already sorted that with the seller

look over all my receipts from the weekend and they're all correct. but again my name is pretty distinctive and also it is possible someone in my family sent a gift to the wrong address or something (tis the season) so like yeah oops that's probably for me

decide to search [OLD STREET NAME] in my emails just in case

order confirmation from Next pops up

ohh, i think, did i foolishly put my old address down on the order and that's why it didn't show up yesterday? that's weird bcos the proof of delivery definitely looks like the outside of my new building but i guess that must be what happened?

double check the original receipt. no i fucking did not do that. i gave them the right address.

for some reason they've sent the replacement to the billing address on my account rather than the original address????

message the new resident back like oh god i'm SO sorry. yes those are mine. here is the order confirmation with your address (sorry).

going over there tonight to get my niece's mittens. hopefully am not being lured into a trap wish me luck.

pakige :(

[galactic-magick]

Marshmallow Winter: Jayce Talis x Reader

Summary: Jayce makes sure you stay warm on a winter day.

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff and non-sexual stripping

Author's Notes: Brief break from my Viktor brainrot for you guessed it, Jayce brainrot!! This is my first time writing for Jayce, hope you enjoy :)

-

“Jayce, I’m literally just walking down the street!”

You sigh dramatically as he fusses over your heavy winter coat, making sure every single button is done. He has you wearing so many layers you can barely move your limbs, and your head and neck are covered in a thick hat and scarf that’s making you sweat.

“It’s freezing outside!” he emphasizes for the twentieth time today. Now he’s covering your hands with two pairs of mittens, barely fitting the second pair over the other.

You know he’s doing this out of love, bundling you up like this. You’re no stranger to his fear of winter and the cold, knowing it nearly killed his mother. Usually, he doesn’t like for you to go out at all when it’s chilly, instead opting to keep you in his arms by the fire under at least three blankets. You only convinced him to let you step outside because you’re almost completely out of groceries, and the store isn’t too far down the road. He insisted on coming with you as well, fastening his own coat after he finishes helping with your obnoxiously fuzzy ensemble.

“Jayce, honey, how are we supposed to buy things if we can’t even move?” you laugh. “I look ridiculous.”

“No, you look cute!” he smirks. “You’re like a puffy marshmallow.”

You roll your eyes, your lip pushing out in a pout, “Can we get those at the store? Marshmallows?”

“Possibly,” he opens the door, a gust of wind chill hitting your face. He links his arm with yours, squeezing it close to him. “If you promise to keep all this on.”

Your exhale is visible in the air, and the crunch of your boots in the snow is quite loud when you start walking. Jayce moves very fast, and you have to waddle in your thick snowpants to keep up with his stride. You’re sweating already, but you don’t complain. If you’re lucky, this outing won’t take too long.

The shopping trip goes as well as you thought it would, both of you grabbing things from the shelves and immediately dropping them from your slippery gloved hands. The cashier gets a kick out of your antics, laughing at the two of you wobbling through the aisles and barely managing to get everything on your list.

The walk home is equally hectic, food falling in the snow every few feet and face-planting along with it when you bend down to pick it up. Any embarrassment you had faded a long time ago, and you’re uncontrollably laughing together by the time you reach the house.

Jayce puts the bags in the kitchen, then returns to help you get everything off. Normally your thoughts would be in a much dirtier place, him stripping you layer by layer, but you’re too overwhelmed by the relief to focus on that right now. You’re so hot and sweaty you could take an ice bath.

“I’ll start on dinner, okay beautiful?” he says, kissing your forehead, not seeming to care about the sweat. You smile, following him shortly after. He’s making your favorite, one of his mom’s recipes you loved the first time he brought you to meet her. She loves you, so much so you two seriously considered just moving in with her. You ended up getting your own place though, mainly because Jayce needed to be closer to the lab. You still visit her often, and she drops by just as much, usually unannounced.

Jayce hoists you up onto the counter, handing you your hard-earned bag of marshmallows.

“Make sure you save some for hot chocolate later.” he pokes you playfully.

“But I earned the whole bag.” you tease.

“You won’t share?” he looks up at you with those puppy eyes you can never deny.

“Fine.” you pop a marshmallow in his mouth. “I guess I can share.”

The second you finish dinner, Jayce throws you over his shoulder and carries you to the couch, nearly suffocating you with cuddles. The dishes be damned, he’s going to hold you for the rest of the night.

“Jayce—too tight—“ you wiggle in his grip, sliding away for a split second before he’s wrapped around you again.

“No.” he nuzzles his nose in your neck, kissing up it and along your jaw. “I need you close. Please.”

You can never say no to his adorably desperate begging.

You get comfortable on top of him as he tucks a blanket over your silhouettes, smoothing his hands down your back and squeezing your waist. Your fingers go to his hair, running them through it before traveling down to his cheeks and jaw, swishing your thumbs back and forth on the prickly texture of his growing beard. Ever since you’ve told him you like it, he tries to let it grow whenever he can. During weeks like this where the weather is too bad to justify going to the lab, he lets it go its course for your enjoyment.

He keeps you trapped in his arms until you remind him he promised you hot chocolate, and even then he pulls you back at every attempt you make to get off of him. He grumbles nonsense into your neck, his hands grabbing fistfuls of your sweater.

“I’ll be quick, I’m just going to get it started on the stove.” you kiss him as some form of a plea, but he doesn’t budge.

“Can’t we just do it together?” he asks, loosening his grip only to get a better view of your face.

“I mean, you can come too, WHOA—“

He stands up with you still clinging to him, carrying you to the kitchen. You tighten your arms and legs around him, despite knowing he’d never drop you. You learned very early on in your relationship that he’s more than strong enough.

You help him dump all the ingredients in the pot, allowing it to mix and simmer for a while. It’s a miracle he didn’t knock it over while carrying you.

“Jayce, sweetie, it would be a lot easier to see what you’re doing if you put me down.”

“You doubt my hot chocolate making skills?” he squeezes a handful of your ass and you playfully slap him. “How dare you.”

He pours the liquid into a couple mugs—topping them with marshmallows of course—and hands them both to you, returning his focus to carefully bringing you back to the couch. He keeps one arm firm around your waist, his other hand holding his mug.

He sips it, smiling at his work.in

“Do you still dare to doubt my skills?”

“Never.” you shake your head, kicking your feet and sipping the drink happily.

You both watch the fire, crackling loudly and blazing a beautiful orange. It’s snowing heavily outside, the windows covered in white. Jayce will surely stay home tomorrow as well, and he’ll almost certainly want to cuddle you all day once again.

You set your mug down on the coffee table when you’re done, snuggling into him and tugging at his sweater.

His head falls back in a chuckle—you know him too well. As much as he values layers of clothes and warmth in the winter, he can never say no to skin-to-skin contact.

You slip off each other’s sweaters and press your body back to him, his fingers massaging your flesh.

“Thank you for putting up with me.” he whispers, gazing into your adoring eyes.

You kiss his chocolate-stained lips.

“You’re my favorite person to put up with, hun.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Hii I love your work I was wondering I have a request for a AYW blurb/side story. I'm inspired by the hockey game I just went to

So let's say luke is in college or in high-school and he has hid first game and reader gets mildly anxious that he gets hurt and eddie reassures her everything going to be okay and he wins and they all go out to dinner.

Idk just something fluffy.

Thank you

Hockey?! Now you're speaking my language. I can't believe I never thought of Luke playing hockey before. Thank you for putting this in my brain!

Words: 2.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Magenta painted toes curl inside your thick, fluffy socks. The little girl who applied the shiny polish the other day stands on the metal bleacher, between you and your husband. Her little knees bend and straighten as she bounces up and down, two curly pigtails bobbing along with the motion below the soft pink beanie on her head. 

“Let’s go, Luke!” Eliza cheers. Small brown boots stamp on the metal surface below her as she claps her mitten-clad hands.

Eddie chuckles from the other side of her, one arm hovering around her small frame in case she loses her balance. The hockey game hasn’t even started yet and Eliza is ready to hand her big brother the MVP award. 

The chill from the ice rink soaks into your skin even through the layers of your long-sleeved tee and jacket. Your gloves seem to do nothing to keep your fingers from turning into icicles, so you tuck your hands between your thighs, hoping the body warmth can thaw them out. 

“You okay, babe?” Eddie asks, leaning back to look at you around your four-year-old. 

The nod you give isn’t convincing, even to yourself. You couldn’t be prouder of Luke for making the Hawkins High School hockey team as a freshman, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t worried about him getting hurt. The fresh batch of pregnancy hormones coursing through your system isn’t helping matters either. 

An obnoxious buzzer blares from the speakers on the wall as the scoreboard sets itself down to all zeroes. The crowd full of families and friends starts cheering as the two teams pour out onto the ice. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eliza become airborne and you look to see Eddie lifting her over his lap so she’s standing in between him and Ryan instead of him and you. A steady arm wraps around you, and you gladly lean into your husband’s embrace.

“He’s going to be fine,” Eddie tells you.

“I know.”

“Yeah? Because you look like you’re about to storm onto the ice and drag Luke home by the collar of his jersey.”

You release a deep sigh and try to get your tense shoulders to relax. 

“He’s played sports before,” you say, sounding more like you’re convincing yourself than the man next to you. “Baseball, basketball. But this is different.”

“Why’s that?” Eddie knows exactly what’s different–it’s your usual protective Mama Bear energy enhanced tenfold due to your fluctuating hormone levels. But he isn’t dumb enough to come out and say that—again.

“Because,” you huff. “Now there are blades and sticks and boards he could be slammed into or ice he can fall down on.”

Eddie rubs his hand up and down your shoulder. It helps both comfort you and warm you up. 

“There are sticks in baseball,” he points out. “They’re just called ‘bats.’ And he’s fallen and skinned his knees both running the bases and on the basketball court. As for being slammed into the boards?” Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle. “That would be nothing compared to having little She-Hulk over here as a sister.”

You let out a small giggle, peeking around your husband to see Eliza enthusiastically shaking Ryan’s shoulder, pointing to where number 86 is out on the ice, warming up.

“I guess that goes for any hockey fights, too,” you say.

“See? Now you’re getting it.” Eddie smiles fondly at you and places a kiss against your temple.

A referee blows a whistle and both you and Eddie watch as the two teams take their places for the first face-off of the game. 

Luke’s best friend Sean skates up to the blue line, right in the center and ready to battle for the puck. Next to his number 19 jersey is Luke to his side as the right winger. The referee drops the puck and the game begins. 

Both your and Eddie’s eyes are glued to your son as play moves around the ice. Your gazes follow him up the ice and back down before he hops onto the bench for a shift change. Without her brother now to focus on, Eliza comes up with a new way to entertain herself: a cheer.

“Let’s go, Tigers!” Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

It only takes two turns of her cheering before the home crowd joins in, leaving the little girl beaming, proud to have started the trend. She’s no stranger to different cheers for the team; whenever Luke plays basketball, Eliza only cares to focus on the cheerleaders doing their routines on the sidelines. Ryan tends to pay a lot of attention to them too, but for different reasons. By now, Eliza could probably mimic most of Hawkins High’s cheerleading repertoire. 

A few minutes later, Luke hops back on the ice and you feel the nerves flutter in your stomach. It’s a very different, and distinctly more unpleasant, feeling than the fluttering of having a baby in there. 

“He’s okay,” Eddie murmurs to you, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the rink. 

You nod, but slip your hand into his for reassurance, nonetheless. 

“Mama?” Eliza crawls over her father’s lap, clearly not paying attention to where her bony little limbs are jabbing him, and reaches out to you. “I gotta go potty.”

A battle of emotions collide in your head as you nod and offer your hand to her. One part of you is thankful to get a small distraction from the game, your eyes able to relax instead of seeking out Luke’s constant presence. The other part of you is worried that something will happen while you’re not there, though. As if him getting a hard cross check from an opposing player wouldn’t have occurred if you were still in your seat. 

The ladies’ room is mildly warmer than the rest of the rink, and you lean on the outside of the stall door that Eliza goes into.

“You okay by yourself in there?” you ask.

“Mhmm! Wait. Can you hold my mittens?”

Once the stall door is relocked, you slip the pink mittens into your jacket pocket and listen as Eliza begins to hum a tune to herself. It’s difficult to tell at first, but you’re able to identify the song as I’ll Make a Man Out of You from Mulan. 

After Eliza finishes up, washes her hands, and slips her mittens back on, the two of you step out of the restroom. Before you’re able to take two steps in the direction of your seats, a horn blares, signaling a goal.

Eliza gasps and quickly tugs on the hem of your jacket because she’s too small to see what’s going on over the wall. You scoop her up and the two of you stand at the glass, near the net that was just scored upon. Both of you cheer when you see that it was the Tigers who got the first goal. Luke is sitting on the bench on the other side of the ice though, so you know he wasn’t the one who scored it. 

When the two of you get back to your seats, the first period is coming to an end. Eliza settles comfortably in her father’s lap and tilts her head to look up at him.

“What we miss?”

“Uh, Luke knocked a guy down against the wall over there.”

“Luke hit a guy into the boards,” Ryan translates into proper hockey terminology, smirking at his dad as he does so. 

“That’s what I said,” Eddie says. “And, uh, there was a penalty called on Sean for sticking a guy, so he went to sit out.”

Ryan snorts. “Sean’s stick got caught in another guy’s skates, so he got a penalty for tripping and was in the penalty box.”

“Time out!” Eliza declares. 

“Am I speaking Japanese?” Eddie asks, making Eliza giggle and curl into his lap.

“Of course not,” you assure your husband with a pat to his chest. “Just not speaking hockey either.” You giggle when he shoots a playful glare your way. But you manage to make it better by pressing a few kisses along his stubbled cheek. 

During both the first and second intermissions, Eliza entertains herself by looking for friends of Ryan’s or Luke’s in the stands and begging her oldest brother to take her to them. At one point, Eliza spots Ryan’s more-than-friend-not-quite-girlfriend-yet, Hannah, a few rows back and quickly makes her way up to her. Ryan’s face blooms scarlet as he follows behind his little sister, who has made herself comfortable in Hannah’s lap.

“Did you see Lukey?” Eliza asks the teenage girl. 

“I did!” Hannah says, smiling at Ryan as he takes a seat next to her.

Eddie leans in, his breath tickling your ear. “Do you think Eliza will ask Hannah to go out with Ryan before he gets around to it?”

You agree with a soft giggle and nod. 

“Oh, absolutely. Ryan’s so nervous and Eliza doesn’t have the patience for that,” you say. “God help any boy who is slow to ask her out in high school.”

Strong hands grab your sides, thick fingers digging into your ribs as your husband tickles you. A small yelp escapes your lips before you turn and burrow your head into Eddie’s neck.

“Hush your mouth,” Eddie murmurs. “Eliza isn’t going to date until she’s thirty.”

“Good luck with that.” You laugh and playfully shove his hands away from you.

Just as the third period is about to begin, Eliza and Ryan make their way back towards the two of you on the bleachers. Ryan has a lovesick smile on his face and the sight makes you smile in return.

“Have fun with the big kids?” Eddie asks as Eliza plops down next to him.

“Mhmm,” she nods, brown eyes scanning the ice for where Luke is. “Hannah say she likes my hat. And Juan said Mama is really cute.”

“What?” Eddie asks, arm immediately encircling you. “Who?”

“Ryan’s friend.” Eliza waves a dismissive hand in the boy’s direction, her focus still on the ice.

Eddie goes to look over his shoulder but you quickly grip his chin between your thumb and forefinger and bring his gaze back to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask him quietly. It’s impossible to suppress the amused smile on your lips. “Are you going to stare down a sixteen-year-old boy?”

“I don’t need a younger man hitting on my wife,” he says.

You laugh, shaking your head at his ever-present jealousy. 

“I don’t know if you noticed,” you say, “but I like older men. And no one is hitting on me.”

“Yet,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Shoot it, Luke!”

Ryan’s shout refocuses your and Eddie’s attention back on the game in front of you. Luke stick handles the puck past a defenseman and skates closer to the opposing team’s net. You hold your breath as you watch Luke wind back his stick and slap the puck to the five-hole, between the goalie’s pads. Time moves in slow motion as you watch the black rubber disc travel over the goal line.

The siren blares and you stand up, raising your arms in the air as you cheer for your son.

“That’s my boy!” Eddie shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“That’s my brotherrrrrr!” Eliza mimics.

Ryan hoots and hollers as you clap enthusiastically, a huge smile on your face. 

The other Tigers hockey players on the ice skate over to Luke, either tapping him on the leg or ass with their stick or knocking their helmet against his. 

The PA system overhead crackles to life before a student announcer says, “Goal scored by number eighty-six, Luke Munson!”

The crowd cheers, punctuated by a certain little girl’s shrill “Yay!” 

“Assisted by number nineteen, Sean Lowery, and number four, Alex Duffy!”

“Yay, Sean!” Eliza yells.

Luke’s goal ends up being the game-winning goal, which causes his team to pile on top of him once the game is over. 

“They’re going to hurt him,” you mumble as you stand up from the bleachers.

Eddie rolls his eyes, not unkindly, from his seat—he knows you won’t be able to see him since you’re standing. Your husband rises to his feet and presses a kiss to your temple.

“He’s fine, princess.”

He is, of course, and you’re glad to see it for yourself when he comes out of the locker room. A beaming smile adorns his face as he bounds towards the four of you, his curls soaked with sweat and his heavy gear bag thrown over his shoulder. 

“Did you see it?” he asks excitedly.

“See it?” Eddie repeats, eyebrows raising. “Didn’t you hear us?”

“I heard someone,” Luke teases, tugging Eliza’s pink beanie down over her eyes.

She huffs and quickly pushes it back up, giving her big brother one of her signature unamused glares. 

“I’m so proud of you!” You take Luke’s face, flushed from all the exertion, between your hands and press kisses over his sticky-with-dried-sweat face.

“Gross,” Ryan mumbles.

Misinterpreting why Ryan thinks the display of emotion is gross, Eliza turns to her oldest brother with her hands on her hips.

“Kisses not gross!” She hops up and down, making fish lips, like she’s trying to jump up to his level to give him kisses.

“Um, some kisses are gross,” Luke says once you’ve finished. When Eliza looks over at him, Luke’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie. 

“Prepare to be disgusted then,” Eddie says, slipping one arm around your back and pulling your front flush up against his. He grins at you before lowering his head to slot his lips over yours.

“Ugh!” “Ew!” “Stooooop!”

You laugh against Eddie’s mouth, and the two of you break apart, sharing an amused look.

“Alright, goblins,” Eddie says, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get going.”

The five of you start moving toward the exit when you tap Luke on the shoulder.

“Where do you want to go to dinner?” you ask him.

“Why does he get to pick?” Eliza whines.

“You can pick when you get a game-winning goal,” Ryan tells her, tugging on a single curly pigtail. Eliza pouts, looking suspiciously identical to her father, and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Uhh…” Luke muses as your family steps out into the chilly October night. “I want Chinese food. Let’s get Eliza a pu pu platter.”

“Blech!” Your daughter sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. 

“Oh God, she’s going to steal everyone’s noodles again,” Ryan sighs. 

Eliza lets out the evilest giggle you’ve ever heard come from her as you reach the car. 

“I want all the noo-noos!” she declares as she yanks the back door open. 

“I’m ordering rice then,” Luke says as he climbs in behind her.

“Boo!” Eliza calls. 

“These kids are crazy,” Ryan says with a shake of his head.

Eddie laughs and musses up Ryan’s hair. It’s harder now that Ryan is almost as tall as him. 

“Okay, let’s get this hockey celebration on the road,” Eddie says, tapping the roof of the car as he walks around to the driver’s side. 

“Burn rubber, Gretsky,” you say as you slip into the passenger’s seat.

Eddie glances at you before turning the key in the ignition.

“Who?”

“Jesus, Dad,” Ryan sighs.

[wild-jackalope]

hii queen, i love yours writings and the fic about viltrumite!mark is amazingGgg ❗️❗️ so talentedddd

you say you want more about this mark, sooo....is oliver in this universe? and what is the reaction of reader about this? I'm a sucker for this universe, fr, is so original 🙏🙏🙏

This is such a good question.

And babe I’m stumped.

I mean for plot reasons I guess so? But Mark would never. He loves his beautiful wife too much ❤️ Nolan has a little more disconnect than Viltrumite Mark (enough to have sex with a bug apparently). I think Mark is more loyal, so I’m not sure he would get another being pregnant—let alone have sex with them.

Not unless there was some fucked up comparison between his wife and the other woman. Maybe her hair is the same as yours, or you have similar voices. That would be the only reason he’d live his regret through another woman.

I’ll do a personal what if oneshot, just for you.

Alone, and drunk.

It was the best way to describe what you’d become since your daughter had left for college.

The house was barren of bodies and haunting memories were left in their wake. His clothes neatly folded next to your own, his scent clinging to your bedsheets.

It was like Mark still lingered in the house, only he was always one room away. Just out of reach.

But Mark was dead.

He was dead to you, at the very least.

You had cried at his gravestone. Mourned him. Mourned the man he was—or rather, the man he was pretending to be, the man he could've stayed. After the tears dried, you attempted to gather the shattered pieces.

Your daughter had taken to the stars. According to her girlfriend, Amber, she'd left earth to help a species of aliens with a deadly meteor shower.

That was just like her, flying headfirst to save anyone and prove she wasn't her father.

But that was two months ago.

For two months, you'd felt more alone than ever. For two months, Cecil had been pestering you—asking if she was back, if you had any more specifics on her location. For two months, you'd tried to return to normalcy within your job.

You reached up to your wine cabinet, taking a cheap Moscato.

"Hey, Mum."

The bottle nearly slipped from your fingers. You had turned so quickly the room spun, your body stumbling with the whiplash.

There she stood, in a strange robe, dark hair pulled back and her father’s unmistakable brown eyes staring back at you.

You tripped towards her, pulling her into your weak but longing arms. She sighed into you, her stress dissipating at the familiar embrace. You pulled back just enough to take her shoulders in your hands.

"It's been two months! You know I try not to worry, but even Cecil's been frantic, he's—"

A small babble from behind your daughter's legs cut you off. Your eyes dropped to the floor, to the tiny figure peaking from behind her.

A small child blinked up at you, wide brown eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Who... is that?" You gaped loudly, crouching instinctively.

"That's... my brother."

You proceeded to pour yourself a sizeable glass of wine, whilst your daughter knelt and handed her brother a mitten, which he eagerly distracted himself with.

With a shaky breath, you sank into the nearest seat. "I—I don't even have the words," you took a short sip of the sour wine to collect your thoughts, but it only made them foggier, "this morning, I didn't even know if Mark was alive... I didn't even know if I wanted him to be alive. Now his new child is sitting in my kitchen."

"The Viltrumites took him, Mum. Dad... he didn't have a choice."

"Like hell he didn't," your voice sharpened. "He didn't have to go to that planet, he certainly didn't have to find a new partner and have a new baby!"

Her eyes avoided you.

“Mark destroys everything in his path, and everyone else is left to clean up the wreckage, the lies…” you said, quieter now.

"Mum..." She reached for you, to touch your shoulder, but decided against it.

"What are we supposed to do with him?" You asked, gaze returning to the small boy. "He doesn't even have a name."

"He ages fast, he won't stay a toddler long... maybe I'll take a year off college to take care of him." She suggested, shoulders sagging heavily.

"What? No, absolutely not."

"I've been gone for two months, Mum, my grades are already bad. Plus, I learned to change diapers on the way home."

The toddler giggled, picking up and letting the mitten hit the floor. You watched him, but your mind was still fixed on your daughter.

"What about... Cecil?"

She shook her head firmly. "No, Mum. He's my brother, I can't just abandon him."

You exhaled, amused at her mature resolve, "You must get it from my side of the family then."

The toddler had thrown the mitten too far this time, tossing it out of his reach and so, he began to cry. Your daughter, rose quickly, going to his side and picking him up. She tapped on his nose playfully and bouncing him in her arms with practised ease.

After everything Mark put her through, she was still so kind. So gentle. So good.

Your daughter. Invincible.

"Don't quit school, honey," You went to her side, wrapping your arms around the both of them. "I'll take some time away from work to look after him."

The child wriggled beneath you, and a distinct stench filled your nose.

"But... you're changing that diaper before you go anywhere."

[yanphighting]

Hiiii- could I ask for some Yan!Shuriken x reader? Btw, your account looks so pretty 🥺🫶

╰┈❥ YANDERE SHURIKEN

AN: WE ARE BACK GAMERS !!!!! Also a treat from mod skate WARNINGS: stalking, non-consensual photo taking, shuriken being a creep/aff

Thirsty.

You were thirsty, the dry feeling in your throat forced you awake and out of bed. You kicked your feet over the edge of your bed so you could slip on your fuzzy slippers. Your blanket was draped over your shoulders, trailing behind you as you walked to your kitchen. Mittens, your cat, got up and stretched and as you dragged the blanket

Your week has been good. Your friends had taken you to this nice cafe in Crossroads that had the yummiest desserts and drinks! The staff was nice too, especially your waiter. From what you remembered his name was Shuriken, he was... something. You guessed he was sweet and a little bit stupid in a cute kind of way.

His horns were a pretty pink like freshly bloomed hibiscus, but you remember noticing the remnants of lime green paint at the base of them. Shuriken... you've always seen him working at the cafe or with his sister, Vinestaff. You always waved at him and maybe gave him a smile but that was it. It had become a habit to always go since the cafe had become one of your favorites.

Sighing, you grabbed a glass from the cabinet before filling it with water. Bringing the glass to your lips you take a large sip of the water before swallowing your throat relieved now that it wasn't as dry as a desert. Looking down you notice that your beloved cat Mittens has run off somewhere, " Mittens?" You called out as you walked around your house.

She wasn't in her normal hiding spots or her favorite lounging spots. You ended up checking everywhere in your house until you ended up seeing her in your bedroom. " There you are!" You gasped rushing towards her. Mittens was glaring at something out your window, most likely a bird or some sort of rodent. Giggling at the thought as you knelt down to pick her up only to realize how... alert she was. Her big yellow eyes glaring outside,you couldn't help following her gaze.

There was a monster. Someone was at your window, staring at you from the tree. From your window you saw a masked figure dressed in all black, the glowing green eyes of it glared you down. You felt like prey as you glanced at the twisted grin of malice etched into the wood.

A flash of light illuminated you ,your cat, and the masked figure. A moment of silence passed between you and the stranger behind the glass,nothing but the sound of a polaroid printing muffled behind glass. You blinked...and it was gone.

You didn't sleep that night.

The encounter had left you on edge to say the very least. At every moment you felt like you were being watched like that figure from that night would stalk you again. You stared down at your drink, an affogato that you haven't even started on. The ice cream had practically all melted by now leaving a shitty latte due to how long you've been moping.

It was going to find you. What would it do if it got in your house? Would your cat be safe? Would you be safe? Would -

The sound of a plate being set down snapped you out of your spiral, glancing up, you saw the grinning face of your favorite waiter.

Shuriken.

He had that goofy stupid smile before his expression dropped the slightest. " Hey ...you doing ok? " He asked ever so sweetly. You looked at the brownie he had set down in front of you before looking back up at him. You couldn't help but spill everything, spilling about your stalker and how it - whoever it was - probably had photos of you! Shuriken was at your side through it all, comforting you and promising that it would all be ok.

"That's... about it. I'm just- so scared! This guy could be lurking,he could be in my neighborhood and, y'know, he could be anyone! " You whimpered, Shuriken's hand rubbing at your back grounding you.

You blinked the tears of panic away from your eyes, noticing now the sun was setting, shakily you picked up your bag. Shuriken seemed to immediately notice your discomfort at the deep blue settling over the sky. " If you want I can like...walk you home and stay at your place y'know to keep you safe." He smiled, seemingly sheepish. You had never agreed to something so quickly.

Gathering your stuff you rushed to the door, waiting for Shuriken who immediately followed after you. He seemed to be focusing on a polaroid photo he held in his fingers. You didn't pay any mind to it, it wouldn't be of any harm. Shuriken would never do anything wrong... right?

A click rings through your ears.

[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.

[sturnsblogs]

MITTENS

Nerd!Chris X Mean!Girl!Reader

—

Chris was a HUGE cat lover—every time he saw a cat he flipped out. And well… guess who had a cat? You.

Today you were packing for a three-day weekend to go visit your parents. Of course, Chris was coming too. Your parents really liked him, although they hadn’t seen him since like 2023, back when you and Chris were still in high school. He was going to see them—and your cat—again. He was way too excited. Like bouncing-on-the-bed excited.

“Mittens is gonna remember me,” he said confidently, tossing a pair of socks into his bag like he was packing for the Emmys. “She’s literally gonna sprint to me the second we walk in.”

You snorted from across the room, holding up your travel bag. “Chris, she’s a cat. She’s gonna hiss and hide under the couch.”

“She loved me.”

“She tolerated you.”

Chris spun around dramatically. “You just don’t get us.”

You rolled your eyes, zipping up the last of your toiletries. “Do you have your toothbrush?”

He blinked. “…You didn’t pack one for me?”

“Christopher.”

“What?! I thought you were packing for both of us!”

“Why would I—? You’re a grown man!”

“I got distracted!”

“By what?!”

He grinned, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “The thought of Mittens’ little pink toe beans.”

You covered your face with your hands. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“Okay, but you love it.”

“No, I tolerate it. Like Mittens.”

“Wow. Okay. Betrayal from both my girls.”

You tried to hide your smile as you tossed a spare toothbrush in his direction. “You’re lucky I did pack an extra.”

Chris caught it with a triumphant grin. “See? That’s why we work. You handle the essentials, I bring the vibes.”

“And the chaos.”

He leaned back on the bed and sighed dramatically. “This is gonna be the best weekend ever.”

“You say that now… wait until my dad makes you help him clean the grill.”

Chris sat up instantly, wide-eyed. “I’m suddenly remembering a dentist appointment.”

You smirked. “Too late. Mittens is waiting.”

He groaned, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I hope she remembers my face. I hope she still loves me.”

“She’s a cat, Chris.”

He held a hand to his chest. “She’s my soulmate.”

You rolled your eyes. “Good. Then you can share a bed with her.”

“Perfect. As long as you’re on the other side.”

You threw a hoodie at his face. “Pack. Now.”

The car ride was only supposed to be a little over two hours, but you were already questioning your life choices twenty minutes in.

Chris hadn’t shut up about Mittens once.

“I just know she’s gonna hear the door and come sprinting down the hallway,” he said, practically bouncing in his seat, turned halfway toward you. “Like she’s gonna skid across the hardwood floor and everything. Like paws slipping and sliding type of running.”

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “She’s probably gonna hiss and run away.”

Chris gasped like you slapped him. “You take that back.”

“I’m serious,” you said, adjusting your grip on the steering wheel. “She’s dramatic. Like someone else I know.”

Chris leaned closer. “No. She loves me. I’m like… her favorite uncle. She probably thinks about me every day.”

You let out a loud sigh, already feeling a headache coming on. “Chris, she doesn’t even think about me every day and I’m her owner.”

“But we had a bond,” he whined, like a little kid. “I scratched her behind the ears exactly how she likes it. I even gave her that little fish toy! You think she forgot?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you leaned forward and cranked the volume of the music all the way up, drowning him out instantly.

Chris gave you a betrayed look, mouthing dramatically: RUDE! before crossing his arms and dramatically sulking in the passenger seat.

He even tilted his head against the window like he was in a sad music video.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

After a second, you reached over and patted his knee without looking.

Still, you heard him mutter under the music: “Mittens would never treat me like this…”

You rolled your eyes and turned the music up even louder.

You finally pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching over the gravel as you threw the car into park. Chris practically ripped his seatbelt off, vibrating with excitement. You barely had time to open your door before he was already halfway up the front porch steps, backpack slung lazily over his shoulder.

“Chris!” you called, grabbing your own bag and slamming the car door. “Could you at least pretend you’re excited to see my parents first and not just the cat?”

He grinned over his shoulder. “I’m multitasking, babe!”

The front door swung open before either of you could even knock, and there stood your mom, arms spread wide and already tearing up.

“Oh my gosh,” she gushed, pulling you into a huge hug immediately. “You’ve gotten so big, sweetheart. Let me look at you!” She held you out at arm’s length and beamed. “Prettier every time I see you.”

You laughed a little, cheeks burning, but before you could say anything, your younger siblings barreled through the door, squealing.

“CHRIS!” your little brother shouted, practically launching himself at Chris.

Chris stumbled back a step with a big laugh, catching him easily and ruffling his hair. “What’s up, dude!”

Your younger sister wasn’t far behind, clinging onto Chris’s arm like he was some superhero. “I missed you so much!” she whined.

Chris bent down to hug both of them at once, his face lighting up in a way that made your chest ache a little. You forgot how much your family adored him — it wasn’t just you who missed him when he left for college.

Your dad came into view next, shaking Chris’s hand and clapping him on the back warmly. “Glad you could make it, son. House hasn’t been the same without you eating all our snacks.”

Chris grinned sheepishly. “Gotta keep the tradition alive, Mr. Y/L/N.”

You just stood there watching, warmth blooming deep in your chest.

And from somewhere in the house, a loud meow echoed down the hall.

Chris’s eyes lit up immediately. “MITTENS!” he gasped, shoving your backpack into your arms and sprinting inside.

You groaned loudly, following behind him with a muttered, “traitor.”

You trudged upstairs behind Chris, still lugging both of your backpacks since he had totally abandoned you in favor of your cat.

When you made it into your old bedroom, you found him already sprawled out on your bed, Mittens cradled lovingly against his chest like a literal baby. He was scratching under her chin, whispering sweet little nothings to her like she was the love of his life.

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he cooed softly, rubbing behind her ears. Mittens purred so loudly you could hear it from the doorway. “I missed you so much, didn’t I?”

You stood there for a second, arms crossed, just watching.

And waiting.

And… waiting.

Chris didn’t even notice you. His entire world was currently a fluffy gray ball of fur.

You cleared your throat loudly.

Nothing.

You dropped your backpack onto the floor dramatically.

Still nothing.

He was now pressing tiny kisses to the top of Mittens’ head, whispering, “You’re the cutest thing in the whole world. I love you so much, Mitty.”

Your eye twitched.

“Hey, Chris,” you said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Remember me? Your girlfriend?”

He blinked up at you, completely oblivious. “Huh? Oh—yeah, babe, I know. I love you too,” he said distractedly, before going right back to baby-talking your cat.

You stood there fuming.

You crossed your arms tighter.

You tapped your foot against the floor.

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

Finally, you snapped. “You know what? Maybe Mittens should pack your lunches and kiss you goodnight too!” you huffed, flopping dramatically onto the other side of the bed, turning away from him.

Chris’s head shot up at the sudden poutiness in your voice. He looked between you and Mittens, suddenly realizing how much he’d been ignoring you.

He bit his lip to hide a smile. “Are you… jealous of Mittens right now?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

You didn’t answer, only huffed and scooted further away.

Chris gently placed Mittens on a little blanket at the foot of the bed and immediately crawled over to you, pressing himself against your back. “Baby,” he whined, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “You’re my favorite girl, you know that.”

You stayed silent, pretending to be mad even as your heart fluttered.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world,” he mumbled against your skin, kissing just behind your ear. “I love you so much more than I love Mittens. I swear.”

“You didn’t look like it,” you muttered under your breath.

Chris chuckled and hugged you even tighter. “Mittens doesn’t kiss me like you do,” he whispered teasingly. “Mittens doesn’t smell like strawberries either.” He kissed along your jawline softly, trying to coax a smile out of you.

You finally turned around to face him, still pouting a little.

“Forgive me?” he asked sweetly, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ll let you have the first cuddle spot tonight.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled despite yourself. “Fine. But if you even look at Mittens before you look at me again, we’re breaking up.”

Chris laughed and leaned in to kiss you softly. “Deal, princess.”

—

A/N- FINALLY I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING FOR THEM.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[reveryfics]

Hello !!

If you write for him, could I request Tony Stark x m reader ? Nothing specific, maybe something similar to the reader from your Scott Lang fic. (Loved it!)

thanks!

A Game Of Chess

Tony Stark x Male Reader

Summary: Tony isn't convinced you're anything but lucky, despite your constant reminder of your mutant powers

A/N: I couldn't think of a good mutant power, so reader is simply has telepathy/telekinesis. Plus I feel Tony would just in general be a sceptical person. Sorry it's short!

TW: Tony - Teasing

Ah, yes, another glorious evening of shattering Tony Stark's ego. You, of course, couldn't help but let out a perfectly timed, utterly condescending chuckle as you watched his meticulously crafted facade of composure crumble like a stale cookie. There he sat, the great Tony Stark, inventor, genius, playboy, philanthropist, reduced to a sputtering, red-faced mess by… you.

Honestly, it was getting a little repetitive. Ever since you graced his presence with your magnificent, undeniably mutant abilities (which he, bless his cotton socks, still insisted were mere parlor tricks), he’d been on this pathetic quest to prove you were cheating. As if you needed to cheat. You, with your telekinetic prowess and the ability to read his mind like a particularly dull picture book.

He’d challenged you to everything: cards, darts, even a ridiculously complex game of quantum Sudoku. You, of course, had demolished him at every turn. It was less a competition and more like watching a toddler try to assemble a rocket ship with mittens on.

Tonight, it was chess. He huffed, that familiar, petulant sound you'd come to associate with his impending defeat, and took a hearty swig of his overpriced whiskey. "I refuse to believe you aren't, at the very least, employing some form of… nefarious tactics," he accused, his finger wagging like a disgruntled metronome. You, in your infinite magnanimity, merely shrugged, downing your own, significantly less expensive whiskey with a theatrical flourish.

It was a delightful internal battle playing out in his mind: the logical side desperately trying to rationalize your victories as mere coincidence, while the increasingly desperate side was screaming, “Just admit he’s a mutant, you stubborn fool!” You could practically hear the gears grinding, the circuits short-circuiting.

"Why can't you just accept it?" you drawled, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. He glared, a look that would have been intimidating if he weren't currently sporting a very fetching shade of beetroot red.

Another game commenced, and, predictably, within minutes, you had him checkmated. He groaned, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage some sense into his thick skull. "Okay, fine, maybe… just maybe… you're telepathic," he conceded, his voice dripping with reluctant admiration. "So, what am I thinking right now?" he asked, a smug smirk spreading across his face, clearly thinking he’d finally caught you in a trap.

"Oh, you know, the usual. 'Here he is, defeating me in chess with his mind, and all I can think about is what he’d look like naked, preferably tangled up in my expensive Egyptian cotton sheets,'" you replied, your tone as casual as if you were discussing the weather.

His face turned a shade of crimson that would have made a tomato envious. He sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish gasping for air. "Right, right, I concede," he mumbled, finally accepting his utter and complete defeat.

The next hour was a parade of his pathetic attempts to test your powers. He’d ask you to move objects, to guess his favorite color, to predict the next word he was going to say. Each successful demonstration only served to further fluster him.

It was particularly amusing when you’d casually mention his more… colorful thoughts. Especially when you’d pulled your chair a little closer, leaning in just enough for him to smell the whiskey on your breath, to see the mischievous glint in your eyes. "Seriously, Tony," you purred, your hand tracing a slow circle on his knee, "what would the Avengers say if they knew how desperately you wanted to… engage in some extracurricular activities with me?"

He tugged at his collar, his eyes darting around the room like a trapped ferret. "They… they wouldn’t believe you," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

You chuckled, your hand now sliding up his thigh, then his chest, as you stood up. "Maybe next time, Stark," you called over your shoulder as you sauntered away, leaving him in a state of delightful disarray.

Who knew his stubborn disbelief would lead to such… entertaining results? And, if you played your cards right, to something far more interesting in the future. After all, a little bit of chaos was always good for the soul, especially Tony's.

[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.

[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.

[atlaculture]

Hi! You are awesome, your blog is awesome, it's a great inspiration and very interesting to read!

(I even want to translate some of the posts, with credits and everything, to share your awesomeness with not-english-speaking part of the fandom, if you don't mind)

I saw you helped other fans with creating looks for their original characters... Please, can you give an advice: where to look for references if I want to draw an AU with Yue being saved by not the Moon, but the Ocean spirit? Just mentioning the general direction would be great! She definitely should have a different hairstyle (+hair color ofc), a different spirit-form and a different name... I barely know anything about asian/ingenious cultures and don't want to make rude mistakes.

I know it's a lot so any small advice will be very helpful.

And thank you for your posts, you are absolutely amazing! 💜

Aww, thank you! I'd love it if you translated my posts into German. <3

Interestingly enough, both the Chinese and Inuit ocean deities are women, so there is plenty of inspiration to draw from for Yue. ^_^

Like most mythology, these stories have countless versions. I'll be choosing the versions that are most relevant to Yue. This will be a two-part post, with the first part covering Inuit culture.

Inuit Mythology: Sanna / Sedna

There was once a beautiful and kind girl named Sanna who did not want to marry and turned down many suitors. One day, a seemingly talented hunter passes through her village and demands she become his wife. Her father decides to marry her off against her will, in exchange for the hunter's large haul of fish.

The man reveals himself to be a powerful raven in disguise and carries her off to his nest--- this won't be the only time that The Raven tries to kidnap a pretty girl in Inuit mythology. Realizing his mistake, Sanna's father gets in his boat and steals her back from The Raven's nest. As he and Sanna begin rowing away, The Raven flaps it great wings and conjures up a storm.

Fearing The Raven's wrath, Sanna's father throws her into the sea as an offering. She swims back to the boat and grabs on to its edge to stay afloat. Fearing that she'll capsize the boat with her weight, her (asshole) father chops her fingers off in a panic.

Poor Sanna sinks helplessly into the ocean, her chopped off fingers following behind her. Fortunately, she is reborn as the Mother of the Sea and her chopped off fingers transform into the beloved sea mammals of the Arctic (and a much more substantial food source than fish): Whales, narwhals, seals, sea lions, and walruses.

The waters and animals that Sanna watches over will be good to those who treat animals and other people with respect.

You can see how her tale relates to Yue's story. Physically speaking, Sanna is often portrayed as resembling a mermaid, but with a seal's tail. Yue's hair could be black like a murky ocean. I also think it would be cool if you gave Yue line tattoos on her fingers, to represent the tragedy that befell Sanna.

Additional Thoughts

I like the idea of ocean goddess/mermaid Sanna wearing a parka with mittens; she only takes off her mittens to show off her finger stubs and give people a little fright. She's got a sense of humor about it. ^_^

Chukchi people, who are culturally similar and geographic neighbors to Inupiat people, believe the ocean god is the son of The Raven. I guess their version of Sanna ended up staying and having kids with her bird husband.

Sanna's story is so heart-wrenching. She should spend the rest of her days playing with baby seals and pranking people with her hands.