Peter (age 8): Hey dad, can I-
Yondu: Go ask your ma.
Peter:
Peter: Hey kraglin
I'm new to the miraculous fandom but your yan Luka gives me life!
Me too _(:3 」∠)_
I'm sure Luka has a whole bunch of bracelets. He lives for the moments when you steal it. There is nothing sweeter for him when you accidentally choose an unregulated bracelet and then struggle all day trying to keep the thing on your little wrist.
He also loves to receive bracelets as a gift from you. A special place in his heart is occupied by those things that are made by your hands. Braided, from beaded, bright colors? He loves it all the same. He does not hesitate to wear this on his hands along with his other bracelets. And if he needs to take everything off his hands, be sure that one of the gifts remains in his pocket.
I finally did it! Thanks to everyone who helped me. Commenters gave me wonderful ideas. :3
I remind. My English is terrible. Feel free to correct my mistakes if you wish.
Yandere!Astarion X Reader Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: obsessive behaviour, yandere thoughts, non-consensual drinking blood, interference in other people's relationships
Astarion leans over your sleeping form and inhales. The sweet smell fills his lungs. He can hear the blood flowing through your veins. He hears your heart beating in your chest. This reminds him of how excited you get when he flirts shamelessly. Astarion runs his cold fingers down your neck. You start to wake up and he is forced to leave.
Shadowheart recoils from the evil vampire. She's a little ashamed that she hurt you. But it's not her fault! You yourself jumped out in front of her during the battle and were hit by a spell. It's just an accident. The girl wanted to heal you, but Astarion suddenly flew into a rage and did not allow her to get closer to you. Shadowheart looked at the man in bewilderment. There was no trace of his usual playfulness left on his face. She decided to retreat. In the end, he will handle such a simple task as applying ointment to your small burn.
Astarion loves it when you describe his appearance and shower him with compliments. However, the hardest part is getting you to start doing it. He's too proud to ask directly. The entire camp sees how needy he can be sometimes. But no one will ever admit it unless they want to die bloodless that night.
You and Gale are standing near the fire and looking at each other. This time the conflict has crossed all boundaries. You sigh in disappointment and ask him to leave the camp. He doesn't argue. This was an obvious result. Astarion will find you a little later to console you. You and Gale didn't get along from the start. Astarion hugs you, hiding a satisfied smile in your hair. Now everything is in the past. No one will remember the phrases spoken by Astarion that sowed mistrust. “He hides too much. It’s dangerous to trust him.” "They would kill you if you were even the least bit useless." “He has no right to demand that you solve his problems, especially in such a tone.” “Hi, Gail. I think they almost told the Followers of the Absolute about you today.”
Astarion successfully repelled an attack that you did not notice. Having dealt with the enemy, he looks at you. You look tired. You can barely stand on your feet and hold your weapon with a trembling hand. You no longer have the strength to pretend to be healthy. Astarion then says that you both need to go back to rest. You complain of itchy bite scars. "It won't heal." Astarion looks at the fresh scars from last night. You don't need to know that he is eating more often than you allow him to. The vampire says casually, “Your body must just be weak from illness.” Astarion takes you in his arms. You try to weakly resist, but you both understand that it’s faster. You fall asleep on his shoulder. Man inhales your scent. Astarion really wants to bite you again, but he restrains himself. Eventually he will have to give you a break or you will die.
Dammon x reader
You work in a shop not far from his forge.
Dammon takes a break every day to look at you with a yearning look.
You don't even realize that someone is watching you while you go about your normal routine.
Dammon greedily remembers every little thing about you.
Every evening, before going to bed, a man scrolls through your image in his head.
Sometimes his brain rewards him. He dreams about you. How you tenderly hug him, seeing him off to work, and kiss him passionately when he returns.
He wakes up lost and excited. Half asleep, he searches for you with his hand, but then remembers.
Dammon is terribly embarrassed.
He cursed himself for never having decided to talk to you.
The next day, his day off. Dammon feels especially brave. He finally decides to visit your store to get to know you.
Geralt X Reader tw: no It can be read in both a romantic and a platonic context. A reader from the real world has ended up in the world of The Witcher. They have been traveling with Geralt for some time now. He keeps an eye on them, though not entirely by choice, and has promised himself to leave them in the next big city as soon as they get there. But for now... he needs to finish his latest monster contract and find them some dinner.
You sat in front of the fire, watching the venison with a focused gaze. A decent chunk of meat was skewered on a thin but sturdy branch. You turned it slowly, without much enthusiasm. It was well-cooked and smelled delicious. And yet… it tasted awful. So unbearably bland.
Of course, you weren’t ungrateful. Back when you first ended up in this world, wild game had seemed like the most precious, the most sacred food imaginable. You had spent days wandering the forest, starving and freezing, before Geralt found you and shared his meal. At that moment, you had been ready to fall to your knees and weep in gratitude for his kindness.
Time passed. One forest blurred into another. Along the way, you had come across only a handful of half-ruined villages, where even the locals barely scraped by. With no other options, you had clung to the Witcher with a death grip, begging him to take you at least to the first major city.
Since then, every meal had been the same—chewing on bland meat, washing it down with whatever was available, occasionally gnawing on stale bread if you were lucky. And all the while, you longed for the flavors of your world. You dreamed of spices, of anything that could make this food taste better. Day after day.
To be fair, Geralt was partly to blame. If he fed you a little less often, maybe you wouldn’t have grown so picky. Not that you’d ever say that out loud.
Speaking of Geralt… You shifted your gaze to him. He was busy sharpening his swords. A pang of guilt tightened in your chest. He wasn’t a terrible cook. If anything, you were nothing more than a stranger to him. A burden. And yet, he still looked after you in his own way. He was just practical—doing the bare minimum to survive, never bothering with small comforts. You were willing to bet he’d eat rocks if they were edible and provided energy.
But you couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to change. It was time to take responsibility—for the first time since you arrived in this world.
Taking a deep breath, you spoke up. “Hey, Geralt. Can I do the cooking tomorrow?”
Geralt gave you a mildly surprised but still characteristically grim look. After an unreasonably long pause, he finally replied.
“Do what you want.”
Then he went back to his task. You exhaled in relief.
Why did this man have to be so intimidating? Would he die if he let himself relax for just one second?
Shaking off your thoughts, you focused on the small victory—though calling his agreement a “victory” was a stretch. The real challenge still lay ahead.
----
It must be admitted, this village is much livelier than all the previous ones. This time, you and Geralt didn't settle in some inn. The witcher stated that you would set up camp not far from the village. You didn’t ask questions. You had enough time to learn not to meddle in his affairs.
Since your conversation yesterday, you and Geralt hadn’t crossed paths. He left early in the morning for a hunt, leaving you a small pouch of orens for your needs. That, along with the market being within walking distance, was precisely why you decided to take on your difficult task.
People bustled around the marketplace, immersed in their own concerns. You examined the stalls. Choosing the least predatory-looking vendor—a sweet old lady—you approached her. You had to be careful in matters like these. There were no friends in the marketplace. Every merchant was ready to sink their claws into a lost traveler and take their last coins in exchange for an onion. The medieval world was cruel.
The old woman, delighted by the attention, immediately began offering you everything she had while simultaneously asking about the witcher you had recently been seen with. (Oh, this curiosity. How many rumors would spread about you today?) You quickly adjusted the conversation, steering it in the direction you needed. The old woman didn’t even notice how she started telling you about all the spices available in the market, where to buy them cheaper, what could be used for which dish, and even mentioned which herbs grew in the area and how to add them to food to make it more aromatic and flavorful.
After getting all the information, and buying a couple of vegetables, you set off in search of the spices, feeling triumphant. Aside from that, it wouldn’t hurt to find a cooking pot. Geralt’s inventory lacked such an item. He had grumbled that some damned drunkards had stolen his bag with the pot while he was busy. Apparently, they had hoped for something more valuable inside.
Some time later, you returned to camp—filled with a pleasant sense of accomplishment but with a sadly empty purse. Pleasure came at a price.
You laid out the ingredients near the extinguished fire. If you used everything as sparingly as possible, it should last a week. The shiny new pot gleamed playfully. All you lacked now was a cookbook with local recipes. But finding one in a tiny village was impossible. And books in this world were rather expensive.
Relying on your modest, yet not entirely nonexistent, cooking skills, you swore that tonight, Geralt would taste the most delicious venison stew of his life. You would make this man thank the gods for crossing paths with you.
---
Geralt sat behind you, unusually impatient. He hadn’t said a word since he arrived, but you noticed his leg bouncing nervously. A magical aroma surrounded your camp.
You gave the stew one last stir, scooped some up, and filled a bowl for Geralt. He accepted the food with a grateful nod.
“Didn’t think you were serious yesterday.”
“I’m full of surprises,” you winked at him, taking a portion for yourself.
You had worried that cooking in such rough conditions would be a challenge, but your frequent observations of Geralt preparing meals had helped you adapt quickly. Cooking turned out to be unexpectedly relaxing. It gave you a sense of purpose, usefulness, and control over at least one part of this new life. On the road, you couldn’t fight monsters or earn coin, but you could make the journey a little more comfortable.
“Well? What do you think?”
“It’s really good. Thank you.”
As always, Geralt was a man of few words. But judging by the way he looked, the warm, hearty meal had made him a little less brooding.
You smiled happily, proud of your work.
Geralt thought that maybe… he could get used to this.
---
You and the witcher quickly settled into a new routine. He handled his usual work, while you took care of the cooking. It didn’t just add variety to your diet—it became a kind of care that Geralt initially saw as an unnecessary luxury. But despite his views, he grew used to it. Eventually, he even started grumbling from time to time, "What’s for dinner tonight?"
You kept learning about the local cuisine, interacting with merchants and healers, asking chatty villagers for advice, and even striking up conversations with bored-looking prostitutes. Surprisingly, many of them could have been excellent homemakers if life had turned out differently.
One day, Jaskier, wandering the world in search of inspiration for his ballads, stumbled upon your camp. He couldn’t help but appreciate your efforts. Encouraged by a delicious dinner and fueled by the ever-spreading rumors, he nearly turned your care into a grand romantic tale.
Geralt, however, swiftly shut him down with a dry threat: if the bard kept it up, he’d be left hungry next time. Faced with the choice between poetry and a juicy rabbit stew with vegetables, Jaskier wisely prioritized his meal, shifting his repertoire back to harmless songs about the heroic witcher and his mysterious companion.
Relaxed by the friendly atmosphere, you realized how much joy it brought you to see your cooking make life a little better for your companions—even if they didn’t always say it out loud.
Jaskier, being himself, couldn’t stay quiet for long. He interrupted your thoughts with a dramatic sigh:
“Ah, if someone cooked for me like this, I might even consider becoming a witcher myself!”
did you get my yan jihnsi x chaotic reader yet? I have a feeling tumblrs been eating all my asks😭
No. I'm sorry :с Tumblr shows I have 16 messages in my inbox, but only 7 are actually visible. And those 7 requests are really old (T○T)
To the anon: You can try sending your message again. If it doesn’t work or you don’t feel like it — that’s totally okay. I understand that you want a chaotic reader. I’ll try to fulfill your request this (or next) weekend.
To everyone else: If you sent me something recently and didn’t get a reply — please don’t hesitate to resend it! I always appreciate your ideas and messages, and I’d be really grateful if you decide to write again. Thank you for paying attention to this blog :3
Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy (nothing special anymore)
Part one, Part two
"New day – new achievements," you thought as you stepped into the pharmacy at the start of the day. Maomao greeted you. Jinshi and Gaoshun were there as well. You flashed a sly smile at everyone present. Today, you were going to do something that would change your friends' lives forever.
The presence of the harem overseer today was nothing unusual. Once again, Maomao was assisting him with an investigation. You didn't bother with the details. Their cases usually involved deaths and had a rather gloomy air about them.
Maomao was silently jotting down notes when Jinshi, who had been watching her, decided to break the silence. "Are you always this serious?" he asked with a faint smirk.
You perked up your ears.
"Unlike some people, I prefer to work rather than waste time on idle chatter," Maomao replied without looking up.
Jinshi chuckled. "Maybe you should finally try taking a break? They say it helps keep you from going insane with your own thoughts," he mused before shifting his attention to you and winking. Your breath hitched. He smugly thought himself charming for managing to fluster you without even trying.
But you weren’t thinking about him at all. You were busy coming up with a name for the kitten they would surely get once they ended up together.
"Better to go mad from thoughts than from stupidity."
You barely hold back a laugh, covering your face with the wide sleeve of your robe. Watching them is better than any romance novel all the harem girls are obsessed with these days.
Maomao notices your strange expression. She’s about to ask if you’re feeling alright but gets distracted by a servant entering the pharmacy. Not the one you had secretly made arrangements with the day before. But in his hands is the letter.
So, everything should be fine… Right?
No.
He hands the letter to you. The letter that was meant for Maomao.
"This is for you," the servant says obligingly.
"Are you sure?" you ask, alarmed, trying to send him a desperate signal with your twitching eye in a Morse code that has yet to be invented.
But the man nods coolly, shoves the letter into your hand, and leaves—abandoning you to the hell of your own making.
"It must be something important," Maomao says, setting her work aside as she approaches you with interest.
"Oh. No. I'm sure it's something silly," you laugh nervously, trying to hide the letter. But Jinshi gently—yet insistently—plucks it from your grasp.
"I shall read it!" he declares grandly and begins reciting the love letter aloud.
You are utterly mortified, wishing you could burn to ashes on the spot.
"…You have captured my heart."
Jinshi finishes with far less enthusiasm than he started.
"An anonymous love confession," Maomao summarizes dryly.
"Who wrote this?!" Jinshi exclaims, unusually agitated.
"Why are you so flustered?" Maomao glares at him from under her lashes, looking as if she's already considering which poison could take him out without raising suspicion. "Were you planning to confess yourself?"
"I just want to know who dared to write this to my— I mean, our… dear acquaintance," Jinshi barely corrects himself, too upset to choose his words carefully.
"It’s probably just a mistake," you blurt out in panic. Because if Maomao decides that this letter was meant for you from Jinshi… your days are numbered.
"This could be a conspiracy," Maomao concludes, finding her own logic perfectly reasonable.
"A conspiracy?!"
"Yes. To lure them into a meeting and rob them. Or interrogate them. She's connected to you, after all."
At this point, Gaoshun decides to step in.
"I still think… it's just a letter."
You're this close to bursting into tears. Here he is—your savior, the most reasonable of men. But, of course, no one except you is paying him any attention.
"We should interrogate that servant."
"We’ll wait for the sender to reveal themselves."
"NO ONE is going to reveal themselves! Because this was obviously not meant for me!" you shout at them in pure desperation.
The two paranoid lunatics finally fall silent. But not for long.
"Fine. But I’m still going to keep an eye on you. For your own safety," Jinshi says, reaching out in an attempt to touch your face.
A loud slap echoes through the pharmacy. Maomao has smacked his hand away. You feel your soul leave your body.
"Watch over them? What are you, some kind of pervert? I will be watching you—to make sure you don’t do anything stupid," she declares, wrapping her arms around you protectively, shielding you from the dangerous man.
"Enough!" Gaoshun’s patience finally snaps.
This time, the sheer authority in his voice forces the pair to pay attention. The room settles into silence.
"I’ll take the letter to confirm whether it was truly delivered to the right place. You all—get back to work. We don’t have all day, Master Jinshi."
Before leaving, Gaoshun casts a disapproving look your way.
You realize—he knows. You don’t have to worry. He’s got your back. But that doesn’t make you feel any less mortified. You should get him a gift to thank him for the trouble. Maybe then, the emperor will take pity on you and have you executed for something.
"Haha… funny how these things happen," you laugh nervously.
Neither Maomao nor Jinshi are willing to let you go just yet. They seat themselves beside you, one on each side, and begrudgingly return to work.
"The letter idea wasn’t so great after all," you admit to yourself in silent defeat.
Squid Game AU. Because why not
Y/n: -It's so good that I have a triangle.
Guard!Luka: -...
Y/n: *casts a passionate glance at the guard* Because it's easy to make a heart out of a triangle for you.
Guard!Luka: *shy*
---
Y/n: *slaps a guard on the ass loudly*
All: *shocked*
Guard!Adrien: *blushes*
Y/n: -There is one problem. I still don't have your number.......... Oh yes. I don't have a phone either.
---
Player: -You should stop acting like that.
Y/n: -Why? Will they kill me for bad jokes? Ahaha
All: *are silent*
Y/n: -Ahah... ha... They won't do it, will they? Right? WHY ARE YOU SILENT?????
Far Cry 5? O.O (I thought the Fandom for it was dead because there wasn't much I found on here)
This is true. Well, or close to the truth. But I still remember fc5 sometimes. This brings about a pleasant nostalgia. So sometimes I go into these tags and re-read everything. Very rarely does anything new appear here. Hooray!