#I love cold colors💙

[conra]

The cut scene when she returned. In fact, she forgave him....perhaps.

[blueribbs]

little painted sketch of justice for tonight. was feeling kinda down but drawing this and talking with friends made it all better :)

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[violet-eng]

Fem!reader married to a Neuvillette who loves not her but someone else | NSFW 🔞 + 😢

In this one I'm going out on a limb, because I presume without any argument other than my own intuition, that Neuvillette and Focalors had a platonic relationship with feelings never confessed out of fear or genuine ignorance of them (like Violet Evergarden, yes). But you are Neuvillette's wife and so you will fall victim to his coldness when Focalors dies.

Includes NSFW with the reader and angst. Never mistreatment because Neuvi is a gentleman. NOTHING BETWEEN FOCALORS/FURINA AND NEUVI NONONO

⚠️ Warnings: established relationship between Neuvillette and reader, implied cheating, unloving and unprotected sex, pregnancy, sex during pregnancy, mentions of masturbation. Mentions of death. More sex between spouses bc yes.

mndi, if you feel unconfortable reading this then don't. Your mental health is first.

6k words, not edited.

💧💧💧💧💙💙💙💙💙💙💙🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️💧💧💧💧💧💙💙💙💙🔹️🔹️🔹️

You had seen him crestfallen the last few weeks, after the flood, self-conscious in his own thoughts, drowning in his remorse and cowardice.

Neuvillette does not understand human feelings, not at all, though love is supposed to be a passion that transcends the natural laws of evolution. Focalors had been his friend, his companion, in the bruised body of a puppet that felt so real that its strings seemed invisible.

There was no denying the deep affection that had grown between the two, Neuvillette and Focalors, two wandering souls, roaming the world with ancestral antiquity, companions destined to the sound of agony and separation, haunted by the solemn ignorance of innocent creatures.

Love… what was it but a word in a spoken contract.

Neuvillette had married you months ago, a happy and superficially authentic marriage. You had captured his attention, and his knowledge of humans, as the Great Chief Justice, could be satiated by knowing you, a faithful human companion, devoted wife, and sublime lover.

The bed was the only moment where you two connected, where, to the rhythm of the waves, Neuvillette penetrated his marital responsibility towards your depths, that which he considered appropriate towards his so-called wife, who, in a frenzy of pleasure, crushed his pale back with her nails, set to music by the melodious moans he tore from your sweaty breast… There was no connection beyond the sexual, for as a dragon, despite the years, it is very difficult for him to connect with humans.

Focalors was an oceanid, and he was a dragon sovereign. Both turned human. Nothing more to add, two rulers abandoned by the world they were supposed to protect, what would grow between them but pure trust and admiration that would obviously develop into love?

Neuvillette didn't understand. Not until that moment. He had been deaf to his innocent heart pounding anxiously every time Focalors entered his office in her unruly human form, rampant in color and expression. He had been unaware of the flame of satisfaction in his chest that burned hot when she spoke to him in the privacy of their conversations in the theater…he did not understand, not until he understood that he would eventually lose her.

He cried, for the first time he let someone see him cry in his human form. Focalor's words, so exquisite before him, ethereal in her ornate louvered dress, echoed in his head…and in his heart… ….

"Hydrodragon, Hydrodragon… don't cry," she whispered… and he, very reluctant to leave her, wished with all his might to leap upon her, wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He would flee with her on his lap, in his draconic form, leaving Fontaine and everyone else to their fate.

No… a Sovereign would not do that… he would not do that… for to abandon his oath would deserve the most dastardly punishment of all. And maybe, just for thinking that, he deserved what happened next.

"Farewell, Neuvillette," her words, pure in his human form. His companion, his friend, his mentor… his soul mate, tossed away like the foam on the shore of a beach.

Death was a human concept, without transcendence over evolution… love, however, was another story.

He came home like a soldier after the war, he came back without a part of himself… he came back to his boring life married to a woman he doesn't even love, at least not the way you really deserve him.

"Darling," you offer him a glass of fresh spring water from Quiaoying Village, because you know he doesn't like anything else, especially in dark times like these, a glass of the freshest, coldest water suits him wonderfully.

He drinks from the glass, almost as stoic as ever, though his face is stiffer than usual. Routine is becoming overwhelming for both of you, and Neuvillette is suspiciously distant from you, more so than usual. You stroke his cheek while he sleeps to help him fall asleep, you make him breakfast in the mornings and serve him dinner when he comes home, all without so much as a hello.

You suspect the worst, because your friends have planted the idea in your head that Neuvillette has a mistress, and not far from the truth, his heart belongs to another.

After the flood, many had left Fontaine, and perhaps your husband's mistress was among them, or so you thought. How painful it had been for you to see him break for another woman, to see him crack at his most human for a heart that was not yours.

Overwhelmed, you write him a letter with the idea of leaving him and traveling to Sumeru with one of your friends in search of a new life, but everything is cut short when your symptoms begin. Pregnancy was imminent, after all the nights the Iudex had taken you into your bed, it was to be expected.

You receive Neuvillette that night, frustrated by your own doubts, debating between informing him of your condition or simply fleeing to new horizons with your child. It is so difficult to decide when your husband is the Iudex of Fontaine… and when you care about his reputation because you love him sincerely.

There is no need to search for words when your husband is a dragon with keen senses, for as soon as he set foot in the house, he sensed the scent of his brood stirring within you. The Iudex's interest, however, lay in whether or not you would confess to him.

"A package arrived for you this afternoon," Neuvillette comments as he sips the tea you prepared for him, pointing to a bag on the front table.

"Ah, yes," you say half-heartedly, taking the bag in your hands, emotions spilling from your chest as you crumple the paper between your fingers.

You sigh deeply, thinking that maybe this gift is your way of saying goodbye to him, of silently making amends and apologizing for something that is absolutely not your fault other than falling in love with the wrong man.

You take out of the bag an encyclopedia, a thick book with thick paste and yellow pages, brought from Sumeru, recommended by the very scribe of the Academya, a book of human anthropology for your dear strange husband, who seems to have a real interest in human behavior. Neuvillette looks at it as if it were a revelation, as incredulous as he is moved, touched by your gift and your attention to his interests. You try to say something, to tell him that you are pregnant, but you stop when you hear him speak.

"I know you're expecting my child," Neuvillette says, without going into the details of how he found out, touching the rim of the teacup, a wedding gift. "Whatever you need, tell me, health, food, you know I will cover all expenses."

"I want to go to Sumeru," you confess in an almost whispered tone, your words seeming to be carried away by the wind rushing through the window.

"That wouldn't be good," for a Hydro Dragon hatchling, of course it wouldn't. "You're too young to venture into a new nation, especially one with new leaders like Sumeru, not to mention the dry climate."

You don't argue, knowing he's right, and decide to simply retreat to your room and wallow in your defeat.

Neuvillette, however, with what little empathy he has generated, caresses the book with his fingertips, gliding over the fine markings carved into the cover.

A gift, he had never given you a gift before, but you had given him a gift by taking the initiative.

The months passed quickly. The precariousness of your relationship, increasingly dry on your part, provokes something in Neuvillette.

He looks at you from his side of the bed, the way you sleep peacefully with a swollen belly, carrying his little dragon without knowing it, without trying to get rid of it, loving it from the first moment. Neuvillette has seen you singing lullabies to your child these past few months, reading him stories while caressing your belly, telling him how much you want him to be born strong and healthy.

He's grateful for the deep affection you have for your child, so much so that he has tried to show it. Maybe what he read in the book worked, or maybe it is just a product of his new feelings for his wife, who is about to become a mother. He would do anything for your son to be born healthy and with a healthy mother.

He buys you fritters on the way home, from the store he found out you like best, courtesy of some Melusine, and sits next to you at the dinner table, trying to take an interest in your day and tell you about his, always aiming for your peace, a healthy heart would bring a healthy child.

His devotion is to the birth of your child, because that's what he tells himself. It's not that he was interested in you, of course not… it's not like he was surprised when you told him your clothes were too tight and you hated your new body, not when he likes to see your new figure when you lie next to him at night, with enlarged breasts and a round belly. He bought you new clothes, yes, by the boatload, but because that's what any husband would do.

He only appreciates you for being the mother of his child, it's not like his heart fluttered when he saw you helping some melusines with their problems, or coddling some baby of your friends, thinking what a wonderful mother you will soon be. It's not like h chest filled with pride when he saw you in the stores looking for maternity books and baby clothes, worrying about the weather and your child's health.

And it's definitely not like he's masturbating in his office, remembering the image of you undressing that morning to get into the tub, cutting the skin of your arms and breasts, moaning at the contact of the warm water against your body, and letting out a sigh of deep satisfaction.

That night, he comes home with the usual everyday gift, this time a box of macaroons, because he noticed that you were looking at them in the display case with great eagerness during the afternoon. And he sits down at the table with you, pours you a cup of tea and starts the conversation, even though he notices that you are much more tired than usual.

He carries you into the bedroom and helps you into your nightgown, taking the opportunity to caress your waist and back as he helps the fabric slide over your curves. And then he strokes your head to help you fall asleep, and without realizing it, he smiles as he sees you fast asleep next to him.

The birth is approaching and the strong pains make you desperate, confined to your room and reluctant to go out even to sunbathe. It was the midwife who unscrupulously suggested to Neuvillette that a little sexual activity would help you get through the contractions. And he, as devoted to his wife's health as any good husband, agrees.

You feel Neuvillette's cock thrust deep into you, deep into your velvety walls, soft and slow, not unlike what you've felt before. His hands rest on the sides of your head, his gaze fixed on his cock disappearing inside you, while you curl your legs at the delicious sensation of his thick appendage inside your pussy. He moves cautiously, sharply, trying not to hurt you, and as he pumps inside you, his gaze is lost on your breasts, bouncing to the rhythm of his gentle thrusts.

"Perfect," he whispers through his teeth, because in his eyes you are the perfect reservoir for his brood, yes, just that… he insists that you are simply his good companion, and pretends that he hasn't wanted to have you like this for weeks, under him, a mess between moans pinned to him as you cling to his arms.

"Monsieur~" you whimper, bringing a hand to your face to cover your expression, though he takes your wrist and looks at your face as if you were a treasure just discovered by a hungry, ambitious man.

When you reach your orgasm, he kisses you, for the first time during sex, Neuvillette kisses you, and even he surprises himself with his own actions. He washes your body and dresses you before you rest, now much calmer than before, sinking into your husband's chest as you fall asleep, ignoring the feelings that surface between the two of you.

When the child is born, Neuvillette is surprised to continue his affection for you. He did not fall into the same materialism as before, because now he recognized in the shared work of the novices how difficult it was to take care of a baby. It is he who washes the child because, to your surprise, he knows the strange need for fresh water that your baby requires at least twice a day. Neuvillette enjoys the laughter that you get from your child, and the way that he lifts his arms so that you can hold him and show him how well you are feeding him, he looks strong and healthy.

One day, as he was leaving the Opera Epiclese, he was distracted by the statue of the Focalors, but his attention was immediately drawn to the babbling exclamations of his son, who was waving in your arms near the fountain. How gratifying is that moment when his heart leaps with joy as he sees you holding his child.

The days have been sunny in Fontaine since your son was born, and to Neuvillette's relief, the bitter memories of his separation from the Focalors are just that, memories… past images that he does not cherish, as he knows humans do, not now that his being is entirely devoted to his mate and his brood. What kind of elixir have you become for him, that he can forget all his sorrows and his past loves?

Neuvillette spends hours in his office poring over the pages of the book you gave him months ago, highlighting this thing called melancholy, the longing for past situations and desires, and feeling sorry for those who feel it, because if it were a disease, he would call himself cured of this melancholy.

He finds it curious how you managed to get rid of all the gloomy feelings that plagued him, and even wonders if you are not some kind of sorceress… No, not you, not when you so devotedly cleanse your child and offer him a carefully prepared dinner, and practically put your heart and soul into every act of domesticity.

Focalors… her name and image sail through the ancient memories of Neuvillette's tattered mind, the smile of a woman he loved, now replaced by that of the one who lies beside him, coddling a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked child. Funny how in such a short time he had acquired such human habits as feeling part of a family he hadn't even planned to have.

Your relationship with Neuvillette, full of respect and admiration, help and companionship, seems to evolve into something more. You become his confidant, his mentor when he has doubts about human children or about the customs between parents and children. Involuntarily, he comes to you when he has questions, not to a library, for despite your young mortal age, you know much more than books could ever give him.

You are patient with his ignorance and loving when he is wrong. Mutual and pure respect, absolute devotion and admiration. Neuvillette doesn't believe you are human, how can you be human with so many virtues… his curiosity grows and changes, so much so that he counts the hours in court to come home and chat with you while you nurse his child.

He returns home that night with new doubts, because he has seen strange devices for children without understanding their usefulness, called fun. Can they have fun by themselves? Aren't they too young for that?…oh, and he brings a storybook, because he understands that made-up stories are interesting for babies, even if they don't understand much of the language.

He goes to the baby's room with an enthusiasm he doesn't know he has, and stops at the door when he hears you soothing your baby's cry with sweet words.

"Hydro-Dragon, Hydro-Dragon, don't cry," you murmur as you caress your child's cheek and try to feed him.

Your child is frantically breastfeeding, his tears fading as he closes his bright purple eyes, his little hands clenched into fists and his nose twitching. Neuvillette watches the whole scene from the doorway, his heart in his throat and his feelings on his skin. Those words that broke his soul so long ago now seem to put the pieces of his shattered existence back together.

He smiles, a melancholy, self-satisfied smile. And he looks at you, he looks at you with devotion, because you have finally made him understand what he feels and has felt for so many months. His devoted wife, as patient as she is charming… seems wiser and more skillful than any scholar.

Leaving your child in its cradle, you straighten your neck and turn to Neuvillette, who has entered the room.

"What a beautiful book," you murmur, picking it up, "the baby will love it.

Neuvillette watches you with one hand on the crib that protects his baby, then watches his son sleep, wrinkling his nose the way you do when you sleep.

"You must be exhausted," he whispers, stroking your arm and leading you out of the baby's room.

"Not at all," you smile, "the child fills me with vitality."

"So… Hydro Dragon," Neuvillette recalls the words you said to his baby.

"I said it when I was a girl, like everyone else in Fontaine, it was an idea that came to me suddenly," you answer, and he smiles at your expression, thinking that maybe he heard you when you were a girl, maybe you were one of the many children who recited the same words when it rained in Fontaine.

"I have to tell you something," Neuvillette says, his voice lacking authority, more like a prayer. You watch him from the kitchen.

"'Tell me.

Focalors, Neuvillette, Furina, Fontaine's hydrodragon, the flood, his never-confessed love… he tells you everything because he understands that you deserve the truth, and that he doesn't deserve you because you're too understanding of his confession. It is as if this conversation has cleared up all your doubts, and you have finally seen the real Neuvillette, who fully trusts you to know what to do with this information.

Neuvillette believes that you will ask him for a divorce and leave him alone with his son, but he is surprised to find you preparing breakfast the next morning with your child tied to your leg while you both laugh.

He does not deserve you, definitely not, for he is perhaps the most despicable man in Fontaine and all of Teyvat. To think of another while he is married, to take his wife with him in a grief that is not hers, to bind her to him forever by impregnating her… how mean he must have been, and how understanding you become as his selfishness grows.

He hugs you from behind, buries his face in your neck, inhales your scent and clings to your waist. He begs for forgiveness countless times, and you feel that he may have already shed a few tears on your shoulder, because the sky suddenly begins to cloud over.

"There's nothing to forgive," you whisper, stroking his head, "we can't choose who we fall in love with."

He looks at you in disbelief, wondering in what book he would find such an accurate statement. You had fallen in love with him, and he finally understands, for you are both victims of the disorderly course of love, so messy in its actions, indifferent to those it hurts.

He thinks about your words as he sits in his office, as he looks at the framed photograph he has of you holding his son, and wonders when he fell into the trap of the reckless love that humans call it.

The name of the Focalors does not mean anything to him anymore, even less when he sees Lady Furina in boutiques or restaurants… surely a memory has finally become just that, a memory. His heart is now the prey of another person, his wife, the mother of his son.

Neuvillette understands that there is a difference between soul mates, first love, and true love. The connection with Focalors had been imminent years ago, as both were unaware of the actions of the society in which they had become intruders, but they were nothing more than that, accomplices in a game of masks and power, the first experience of mutual affection and trust. Focalors was his soulmate, yes, because she understood firsthand everything he experienced, but being a living part of her theater did not feel authentic.

With you, however, Neuvillette had learned to be a part of his people, whether as a human or a dragon, as Chief Justice or as the father of an infant. He was no longer an intruder or a stranger ignorant of human ways, not after you. At your side, Neuvillette had known a new range of sensations, of experiences and learning based on mistakes, all very human on his part, and as expected, he had learned to fall in love again, because it was inevitable, after several problems and misunderstandings between the two of you, after the birth of his son and the new horizons that fatherhood brought. His affection for you had been disguised as admiration and redemption, his ignorance had once again avoided love, a mistake he wanted to make up for.

Sitting in your living room while he reads a book and you braid his hair and hum a lullaby, Neuvillette lets the waves of your voice carry him away, wondering what kind of marital experiences he had missed with you.

"What kind of things do husbands do?" He asks suddenly, looking up at you from the carpeted floor, surprising you with his curious question.

"Well…" you think, it's not like when he asks you why kids suck their thumbs or why people give each other presents on non-holidays. It's not a question about trivial human behavior, not this time.

"I've seen couples go out to dinner, but you told me that friends also go out to dinner," he continues, elaborating on his puzzle. "Wriothesley and I have had tea together, what would be the difference between having tea with him and with you?"

"Well…" you continue to think about your answer. "Perhaps the most obvious is living together, planning the week together, household and food expenses, child care, and confidentiality between the two. When you and I have tea, we talk about things that you probably don't mention to Wriothesley".

" Certainly," he says with a hand on his chin, "you and I do all those things, but how is that different from students who share a house? They also plan expenses and discuss confidences."

"Then I guess the biggest difference is in starting a family. Normally, people get married because they want to have a family with the person they choose, the person they love, or the person their parents impose on them."

"So sex is what differentiates married people," he says, and you remain static at his words, stopping to braid his hair, "of course… the physical and emotional affection shown by both parties in marriage…" Neuvillette rambles on, his own conclusion as he sits on the couch next to you, thinking about how he hasn't shown his affection the way he should.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, you are distracted by the details of your skirt, picking out rebellious threads, and then he thinks about the last time he kissed you and wonders what it would be like to kiss someone with marital affection.

"Can I kiss you?" The question is thrown out with innocence, causing surprise in you.

"You've kissed me before, Neuvillette," you say, smiling and getting up to go into the kitchen, "we even have a son, I don't think there's anything new to try."

"Indeed," he says, getting up and walking toward you, your back against one of the walls, "but the variable that makes this situation different from the others is that I didn't feel that way about you."

"Like what?" you ask, as he moves closer to you, almost cornering you against the wall.

"I like thinking about you, being with you, hearing you talk," he says, his tone low, as if he were ashamed to confess everything to you. "I thought it was a simple instinct to care for you as the mother of my child… but now I know it's something deeper than that."

You look at him in surprise, now it is you who has unknowns that only he can answer. The silence between you is cold and almost tactile.

"What about her? Of the Archon," you whisper, your breath depending on the question, Neuvillette's forehead inches from yours.

"It's not the same. There is no excitement or desire. I never longed for her or desired her like you. She didn't provoke me the way you did, it's almost annoying."

"Am I annoying? "Is that what she's telling me, Judge?" You smile as you touch the tip of his nose, trying to take some of the seriousness out of the conversation.

"You are adorably hypnotic, I must say. More than you should be. You have taken everything from me without me even realizing it, subtly and carefully taking over my mind and my heart," Neuvillette's hands caress your cheek, high above your skin, avoiding friction as if his touch would bruise your flawless complexion.

"Let me show you these human feelings that have taken over me, please," he whispers, his thumb sliding over your lower lip. He says it almost like a complaint, his bursting emotions becoming painful, trapped in his chest, longing for you to give him comfort and permission to act.

"I'll let you… only if you promise me something," you say, taking his hand, avoiding the marks of his fingers on you. "You will never push me aside for another woman again…"

His oath needs no words, not when he has you leaning against the kitchen table, his cock pushing behind you to your cervix. Your muffled moans as he adjusts your skirt over your waist and spreads your legs further to give him free access to your pussy, which sucks him contemptuously.

Neuvillette feels like a fantasy, thrusting relentlessly into you, touching the bulge that has formed in your belly from the penetration of his cock, pushing with his hand so you can feel it better, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you. . He kisses your cheek and you hear his muffled moans against your ear as he utters words of worship.

You grip the marble edge of the table, moaning at the burning building in your belly, your eyes glassy and spit falling from your mouth. It's as if your legs were lifeless, as if you were prey to Neuvillette and the way he drives his love for you so deep that it seems to stir your womb.

That afternoon he takes you in the kitchen, and the next morning he doesn't let you get out of bed, one hand on the headboard and the other around your waist, Neuvillette has you with your ass up like a dog in heat, hitting your slippery with his length. The strength that his support gives you is hard to bear, your breasts trembling strongly as your ass bounces to his rhythm, your skin moving like waves in the sea with each vibration that Neuvillette's relentless interference causes.

His hand slides down your body, caressing your breasts and down to your clit, your face buried in the pillows, almost crying at how good his fingers feel on your nervous lump. He fills you with his seed when he reaches orgasm, because he is dying to see you again with your belly swollen for his offspring. And he kisses you again, he kisses your forehead while you catch your breath, while you cover your body that has been bruised by his fingers, defining the lustful path of his digits over your body.

In his office, he remembers the past hours with fanciful lust and longs to return home to enjoy this new activity that you have made him experience, this new addiction that your body represents against his. He longs for your company and your warmth, your voice moaning with pleasure and the way your nails dig into his back. He adores everything about you, not only because you are the mother of his child, but because he finally understands, after several months of reading and reflection, that he has truly fallen in love with you, his precious human wife.

[ravens-two]

PAC: What Does Your Future Spouse Look Like?

This reading includes:

your FS's general physical traits

your FS's vibes & celebrities with similar vibes

The extended reading includes:

your FS's fashion style

your first impression of your FS 

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone.

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Houdini - Dua Lipa

Five of Cups, Ten of Pentacles, Two of Pentacles

Pile 1, the first thing I notice in your person is their eyes. It's not necessarily about the color - although it could be that they're a particularly pretty color - but more that they are very expressive. It also seems that for most of you, this person has really big eyes. Perhaps round or almond shaped too. Think something like Al Pacino, Cate Blanchett, Liv Tyler, Kurt Cobain or Adrien Brody for example. They can convey a lot of emotion with just their eyes. I also see that some of them have crow's feet when they smile too, which is really endearing honestly.

Another thing that I pick up from your person is that they seem to have a vaguely sad vibe to them. Do you know that meme "my poor little meow meow"? Their vibe is a bit similar in a way. They just look like they're sad and you have the urge to take care of them. Again, think a bit about someone like Kurt Cobain or Adrien Brody.

When it comes to their body they're tall or, at least, they give the impression of being tall and broad. Especially for men, they have broad shoulders even if they aren't muscled or chubby. For the women I also think that they tend to have broad shoulders and a narrower waist, but their most prominent feature seems to be their chest. They may have big boobs or they tend to use clothes that emphasize their boobs. I think that even for the men, their chest is quite prominent.

When it comes to vibes it's mostly what I've already said your person has this "please love me" vibe. Despite this, they're capable of commanding attention and they tend to look quite elegant. It may be that they have a lot of pisces placements or a pisces rising. In general, I think that they're attractive, but not like conventionally attractive or Hollywood attractive if that makes sense.

I also think that your person shows themself differently to different people. With you they may feel more comfortable to be a "poor little meow meow" while with others they're more closed off and may even appear a bit cold. I just heard that they have a poker face, so with other people they may completely close off and be hard to read.

(extended reading here)

Pile 2

Kiss Me More - Doja Cat ft. SZA

Six of Wands, Page of Wands, Eight of Swords

Hi, pile 2, your FS is the type of person that gets other people's attention. They are very conventionally attractive (I feel like especially when it comes to their face), but they don't really see themselves life this. In fact, I think that they're quite insecure about their appearance. This almost feels like body dysmorphia honestly (and for some of you it could be related to them being trans, while for others it could be related to an eating disorder). The reality is that they can't see themselves the way other people see them.

They have really thick and luscious hair - it reminds me a bit of Carlos Sainz or Ben Barnes for the men - and most likely it's either wavy or straight. For most of you they have rather long hair, the men tend to have up to shoulder length hair, while for the women it can come down to their waist. When it comes to color, most likely it's dark, but for some of you it could be bleached.

Most of them seem to have tanned or dark skin, this isn't really about skin color, if they have black skin for example, it's really dark. For the people with lighter-skin they have a tendency to blush a lot or get flushed (especially after drinking). They also have really pretty teeth, probably very straight or they just look endearing, and a pretty mouth too. Despite having a pretty mouth not all of them have thick lips, it's more about the shape of their mouth. I feel like they tend to smile a lot. It kind of reminds me of Julia Roberts a bit who is known for her smile.

Some celebrities that have similar vibes to them are Carlos Sainz, Julia Roberts, Anok Yai, Adut Akech, Dominik Szoboszlai and Michael B. Jordan. 

When it comes to their vibes they seem to be youthful and always in their own world. It's almost like they aren't really paying attention to what's going on around them. They also seem to be a bit introverted or closed-off in public, despite all the eyes that they attract. If surrounded by friends they may be a bit more open and might be cracking up jokes with them. No matter what they seem to be really nice and will always give a small smile to other people, like the waiter at the restaurant for example.

(extended reading here)

Pile 3

The Shadow of Your Smile - Nancy Sinatra

Four of Pentacles, King of Swords rx, Ace of Pentacles

Pile 3, your person doesn't seem to be very tall. They're either medium height or actually small. It may also be that their vertical line is short even if they are in fact on the taller side they seem shorter than they really are. But, the most noticeable thing about them is that they seem to always have a serious expression on their face - some of them even have a resting bitch face. I think that they have very expressive eyebrows, they may even move them without meaning to. You'll be able to tell what they think by their eyebrows. Like, they may have look super serious almost as if they're upset but by their eyebrows you can actually tell that they're just relaxed. Speaking of their eyebrows they also seem to be very full or bushy. I don't think that there's a monobrow here, but it could also be the case.

When it comes to their face your FS has really strong facial features, especially their jaw and nose. The jaw reminds me a bit of Angelina Jolie for the women and for the men it seems to be a bit of a mix between Timothée Chalamet and Henry Cavill. For some it's more square while for others it's sharper. The noses here tend to be either aquiline or roman, but either way they're also quite prominent. Think a bit Gisele Bundchen, Jenny Slate or Alba Flores for example, or Hrithik Roshan and Dev Patel.

I don't know how to explain it but they also have a very earthy vibe, like tanned skin, freckles, calloused hands, it's like they just came back from working in the garden, if that makes sense. They also have brown or black hair, and the men tend to have beards (nothing too big though). They also have super clear and healthy looking skin.

Besides the eyebrows I also think that they have really noticeable hands. Their hands may be big or just very pretty in general, they may be veiny too. Their nails are healthy and well kept, and they probably have long and thick fingers. The way they move their hands may also be very attractive, like their gestures or just by being very dextrous with their hands. When it comes to their body they tend to be thicker or chubbier, I'm seeing like amazing and really thick thighs for both men and women. I also feel like your FS exercises a lot or they move a lot because of their work and so they tend to be chubby with a lot of muscle underneath.

In general, I think that their vibe is just very chill. They have a "don't fuck with me" vibe, but they're just doing their own thing and don't really want anyone to bother them. They also seem to be very hard-workers and earthy as I said, like down-to-earth too. These aren't people with delusions of grandeur.

(extended reading here)

Pile 4

Crazy - Aerosmith

Lovers rx, Empress rx, Knight of Cups

Pile 4, this is my androgynous and gender non-conforming pile. If you're familiar with the Kibbe body types or essences, these people would be the Ethereal or Angelic essence. Do you know the Lord of the Rings elves? Yeah, basically that's the vibe. Their features are delicate and they can look a bit otherworldly. Think of Tilda Swinton, Willow Smith, Halle Bailey or Lisa Bonnet. For the men you have again Lee Pace and Orlando Bloom as elves, but also Eddie Redmayne, Cillian Murphy, Jared Leto and Ethan Torchio. For me, Ethan Torchio from Maneskin is the best example for men here. He embodies the facial features and hair that makes him look quite androgynous, and also a bold and avant-garde style.

In general, your person tends to look a bit flirty or mischievous. Again, they have this elf or fairy vibe to them. They tend to look playful and approachable. This isn't the type of person you'd be afraid of talking to, they just seem super nice and open. 

No matter the skin color your person also tends to be pale, this is more their complexion really. Some of them may look a bit like vampires think Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt in Interview with a Vampire. They also have clear skin and the men tend not to have beards. When it comes to hair it tends to be long, especially for the men. For the women, I actually think that they may tend to have shorter hair or even a shaved head.

Their faces are beautiful, but not really conventionally attractive. They have something otherworldly about them that just pulls you to them. They may also have asymmetrical faces, especially when it comes to the eyes or jaw. Also, speaking of eyes they have really intense eyes. The type that seems that they can look right through you. Besides pile 1, this is the pile that seems like they may have light eyes.

When it comes to their body shape they are leaner instead of muscly or thick. They may have muscle definition, but they're just lean and maybe a bit lanky. They seem like they have a high vertical line or they're tall. In general though, they're just long. They have long legs, long arms, even long fingers.

(extended reading here)

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: andrei got an all star weekend fic last year, so it’s only right that mat gets one this year! i literally have a million favorite pics from this weekend so i had to use them all i don’t care. i tried to hit a bunch of the main weekend highlights! i’m also aware that some of the timing and stuff is weird in the fic, but we’re just rolling with it and enjoying the vibes. 🧡💙

word count: 7k

tw: innuendo, dirty talk, protected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f recieving), thigh riding, extremely minimal editing

summary: all star weekend in toronto with mat is one to remember

“Who do you think will pick you?” You ask, settled comfortably in the middle of the hotel room’s mattress, wrapped warmly in the plush robe. You have the perfect spot to watch Mat at the bathroom sink while he shaves. He’s in his suit pants, but his chest is bare, giving you the opportunity to watch his back and arm muscles move as he works.

“Dunno,” he replies, slightly muffled. You can see his face in the mirror, lips tucked in and half covered in shaving cream. He lets his hand fall to the counter and turns to face you, a crooked smile on his face made even more lopsided by the shaving cream beard. “If it’s not Mo and Auston though, I’m leaving.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend loves Justin Bieber almost more than he loves you. “I want Nate and Cale to pick you. I want to meet Tate McRae.”

“You can meet Tate McRae even if I’m not on her team,” Mat scoffs, returning to his shaving. “When am I ever going to get a chance to be coached by Justin Bieber? Never, Squeaks! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You’re such a dork,” you murmur affectionately, grinning at his back and tucking your face into the collar of the robe. You have to get up and start getting ready soon, but you’re too comfortable to move. Mat’ll go over to the arena earlier for media interviews and the red carpet, but you don’t have to be there, technically at all, but you want to see the draft.

Mat finishes shaving his face and wipes his cheeks off with the hand towel. “You’re not being very supportive of my dreams,” he informs you dramatically, tossing the dirty towel onto the counter and planting his hands on his hips.

You kneel up on the bed and gape at him, amping up the dramatics. “I’m spending my vacation in cold ass Toronto instead of Baha Mar because I’m supportive of your dreams,” you laugh, throwing your arms out to your sides. “Sue me if I want you to have a good celebrity captain.”

“The Biebs would be the best captain,” Mat replies, crossing over to the bed in a handful of steps, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. His fingers play with the tie of the robe. “He played hockey and he’s a huge fan.”

“Are their colors at least the blue jersey?” You ask. “You look so good in blue.”

Mat lifts an eyebrow. “That would make you support my coaching dreams? The color blue?”

You hum, resting your hands on his shoulders, playing with the chain around his neck. “I’m very superficial,” you inform him, deadpan.

“Yeah,” Mat replies, equally deadpan, “me too.” He breaks a second later, grinning and peppering kisses all over your face, making you squeal. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you under the robe, and you wriggle on your knees, slumping forward over his chest when you can’t take it anymore. Gasping laughter saws from your chest and you try to catch your breath, but Mat’s making it hard with his hands splayed over your back. They’re warm and slightly rough and you’re both really wearing barely any clothes, it would be so easy to drag him down onto the bed.

He seems to be telepathically picking up on your thoughts because Mat presses a kiss to your bare shoulder where the robe has slipped off and says, “I gotta finish getting ready or I’m going to be late. But when we get back after the draft, my body is yours to use.”

You pull back and grin at him. “However I want?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “I need to conserve energy to reclaim my title tomorrow, so you have to do all the work.”

“Pillow princess,” you accuse, pouting at him.

“Just for you, babe,” Mat shoots back, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your head back so he can really kiss you, licking into your mouth and leaving you wet and wanting when he pulls back. “Start thinking about what position you want me in.”

He winks, laughing, and heads back to the bathroom to finish getting his hair in place. You slump back down on the bed and call to his back, “I’m making sure I get two orgasms before you even get one.”

“Fine by me,” Mat calls back, hands working through his hair. “I like the way you scream my name when you’re coming on my cock.”

Your entire body flushes with heat and you press your thighs together. “Damnit,” you mutter, knowing you need to start getting ready and you definitely don’t have time for even a halfway satisfying orgasm. “For that,” you call, starting to roll off the bed so you can do your hair and makeup, “I get three orgasms before you get one.”

“You’re being so mean to your All-Star,” Mat teases, shrugging into his button down and starting to do up the buttons. You plug in your curling iron and roll your eyes at him.

“Should’ve known all the attention would go to your head,” you sigh, pretending to be burdened by him. “I’m your All-Star, Mr. Barzal, and don’t you forget it.”

His answering grin crinkles his entire face and you go to him easily when he reaches out to grab your wrist and tug you into his chest. “That’s why I’m letting you have your orgasms before I get mine,” he says cheekily, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and disappearing to the other side of the room for his shoes.

You huff a little, a small smile playing on your lips, and return to fixing your hair. Mat finishes getting ready, lacing up his dress shoes and pulling on his suit jacket before throwing his arms out to his sides and doing a little half-turn, asking, “so, how do I look?”

“Like my All-Star,” you beam at him, tilting your head up for a kiss. He obliges. “I like this suit a lot,” you continue, reaching for your purse and withdrawing a Sharpie. You hold it up in between your bodies and tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just in case.”

Mat pats his hand over the pocket and kisses your forehead. “Thanks, Squeaks. Text me when you get to the arena, okay? I’ll see you after the draft.”

You nod and with one final kiss, Mat’s out the door, leaving you with some peace and quiet to get ready. You do wish that Bo or Noah had been voted in too, so you’d at least have Holly or Alexa to hang out with while you’re watching the events. Mat’s parents and Liana are getting into town tomorrow afternoon, with enough time to join you for the Skills Competition, but until then, you’re on your own.

Luckily, you run into Steph Marner outside of the arena, saving you from the awkward first day of a new school feeling where you’ll either have to sit alone or find someone you know in the arena. You know Steph a little bit from different events and you’re friendly enough, it’s not the same as having one of your girls with you, but she’s a familiar face.

“Hey, girl!” Steph greets you with a hug that you return. “Welcome to the six!”

“I really wish you were welcoming me to the Bahamas,” you laugh, falling into step next to her. The crowds are wild and you look around as you walk in, having never been to an All-Star game before this is so much fun.

She lets loose a laugh, “you and me both! It would’ve been nice to get out of the city for a bit, but what can you do?” She shrugs and you fall into small talk for a little bit, catching up on what’s been happening since you last saw each other.

By the time the draft starts, you’re pleasantly tipsy and getting into the fun. The guys are all sitting on little benches on the ice and it’s adorable watching them swing their legs like toddlers. You snap a few photos of Mat from your spot in the stands, knowing the professional photos you’ll get from the team’s social media team later will be better. The draft starts and you wait impatiently for Mat to be picked.

By the time the fourth round ends and he hasn’t been picked, you’re starting to get cranky on his behalf. And slightly anxious that he’ll be picked last, even though you know logically that won’t happen. On the ice, he keeps swinging his legs, fidgeting in place until finally Mo and Auston pick him to join Team Bieber, along with half the Maple Leafs - Mitch Marner and William Nylander included.

Steph slaps your hand in a high-five, “woohoo! Teammates!”

You laugh and cheer along with her, snapping a picture of Mat getting a hug from Justin Bieber. You immediately send it off to your group chat, adding the message: pretty sure he’s going to leave me for the biebs 😭

The girls flood the chat, but you’re too busy laughing with Steph about Mat and Mitch’s chatter on the Team Bieber bench.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Mat’s such a yapper. He must be talking Mitch’s ear off.”

“Please,” Steph waves her hand in the air. “Mitch can’t shut up either. They probably aren’t even listening to each other.”

As the draft continues, you tune out a little since Mat’s been picked. Eventually, you tune back in and your gaze lands on your boyfriend manspreading to an extreme degree. Muffling a laugh with your hand, you shoot him a text, knowing he won’t see it until later: spread your legs a little wider, babe, i want to feel the stretch when i straddle you 👀

The draft comes to an end and it’s a little bit of a whirlwind after that, chatting with people you haven’t seen in a bit and wandering the arena until you find Mat. Or he finds you, actually.

“Team Bieber!” He crows, barely hiding his excitement now that it’s just you in front of him.

You grin at him, squeaked laughter pushed from your lungs when he crushes you to his chest in a hug. “Happy for you, Mat!”

“Babe,” he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear, “this is gonna be so fucking fun. He hugged me!”

“You are the biggest fangirl I’ve ever seen,” you tease, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. “It’s adorable.”

“I know you’re making fun of me right now,” he says, “but I don’t even care. We’ve got a Bieber concert to get to.”

You shake your head and let yourself be dragged along to the concert, knowing that Mat’s going to have the time of his life listening to one of his favorite artists perform live and that you’re going to get so many videos of him singing along that will immediately be sent to Beau for blackmail material.

The concert is actually beyond fun, and by the time you get back to the hotel, Mat’s completely forgotten about his earlier determination to be a pillow princess and has you out of your sweater and jeans before you really process what’s happening. His mouth and fingers work you up to two hard and fast orgasms, leaving you sweaty and breathless in the middle of the bed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing them, bending your knees to draw his cock closer to your cunt. You clit throbs and the condom-wrapped head of Mat’s cock bumps against it, making you see stars.

“One more each, okay?” Mat mutters, pushing into you slowly. You whine and clench around him, scraping your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting, but doesn’t stop until he’s seated fully inside your pussy, breathing hard. Sweat rolls down his temples, dampening his hair.

You barely last a few minutes, overly sensitive from the last two orgasms, and you come before Mat, stroking your hands over every inch of him you can reach while he pumps his hips into yours. He grunts into your neck when he comes, filling the condom and nearly crushing you with the heavy weight of his body on top of yours. The air is pushed from your lungs, Mat’s sweaty chest pressed against yours.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your hair, “that felt good. You feel good. Could stay here forever.”

You kiss his shoulder. “I’d make some kind of innuendo about being an all star, but I think my brain is melted,” you say honestly, still wrapped around Mat like an octopus and making no effort to move.

——-

Mat’s Friday is quiet, other than an early afternoon practice for the Saturday game and the Skills Competition at night, so you have a lazy morning with him in bed. Neither of you bothered with clothes the night before, so it’s easy to get your hands on him and harder to get his hands off of you. You slip under the covers and wake him up with your mouth on his cock, sucking him off until he comes in your mouth. After he returns the favror with a slow, lingering orgasm, you shower and decide to head off to explore downtown Toronto for a bit before Mat goes to practice and you head off to the airport in the rental car to pick up Mat’s parents and sister.

“Thank god you’re here,” you give Liana a huge hug after helping everyone load their bags into the trunk. “It’s so hard being the only one around to chirp Mat to his face.”

“Please tell me you have video of the Bieber of it all,” she grins at you, a little evilly. You nod and she she pumps her fist. Nadia shakes her head.

“Don’t be mean to your brother this weekend,” she turns around in the passenger seat to face you both. Michael had insisted on driving back into the city and you weren’t about to argue - Toronto traffic rivaled New York traffic.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Mom, he needs some humbling,” she replies. “It’s good for his character

growth.”

You hide a giggle behind your hand. The Barzal sibling dynamic is one of your favorite things to witness. “I promise, Nadia,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “Mat gets so much praise. He does need a little humbling every once in a while.”

Once you’re back in the city, you drop the car and everyone’s bags off at the hotel and head over to meet Mat at the arena. He’s waiting for you all in the main lobby, looking fresh and clean and beyond adorable in his new All-Stars beanie. His smile is huge and only grows when he gives his parents hugs hello. He rubs the top of Liana’s head in a noogie that has her punching his arm, while they both laugh.

“Hi,” you smile up at him. You missed him even though it’s been less than two hours since you saw him.

“Hi,” Mat kisses you quickly before tugging the beanie off his head and unceremoniously dropping it on yours, tugging the cuff of it low over your forehead and smushing your hair. You wrinkle your nose at him and he raises an eyebrow. “It’s cold and you look cute in it.”

You lift your phone, the screen lighting up to display a handful of social media notifications and texts, “not as cute as you, according to the Twitter girlies. Apparently, you’re giving babygirl.” Your grin is shit-eating and Liana openly cracks up next to you, even as Michael and Nadia frown at each other, completely confused by the social media phrases.

Mat’s ears go pink and he nudges his hip against yours. “Shut up, let’s just go for lunch and not talk about that,” he rests his hand against your lower back and slings the other arm over Liana’s shoulder, guiding the both of you out of the arena.

“Oh no,” his sister says in a sugary-sweet tone, “we’re definitely talking about it. I have a few of my favorites bookmarked to mention…” She trails off, starting to scroll through her phone.

“Mom!” Mat whips his head around to look at Nadia. She plucks the phone from Liana’s hands and stashes it in her purse.

Michael, in order to cut off Liana’s complaint, jumps in, “Mat, tell us about Patrick Roy. How’s the change going?”

Luckily, the new coach is a topic Mat could happily chatter on about for hours, so he takes the bait and you end up having a fairly peaceful lunch before heading back to the hotel for a little relaxation before the Skills Competition. Liana comes to hang out with you and Mat, while Michael and Nadia get in a quick nap after their long flight. You put a movie on, but really the three of you end up gossiping and catching up, before Mat finally kicks you both out so he can get in a short nap too.

“Love you,” he kisses you before essentially pushing you out the door.

“Yeah, I really feel the love,” you roll your eyes, quickly pulling your coat back before Mat can close the door on it.

Liana smiles at you wryly. “I don’t know how you put up with him, but thank god for you. Let’s go get a coffee,” she says, linking arms with you as you stroll down to the elevators. You have the toque back on your head, adjusted so it’s not smashing your hair flat, and you can’t help but smile when you think about Mat putting it on your head in the first place.

“He’s surprisingly easy to love,” you laugh. “When he’s not being a drama queen.”

“Ugh,” Liana rolls her eyes affectionately, “you guys are disgusting.”

“Be nice or I’m going to decide to renovate the guest room during the week in April you’re coming to visit,” you joke.

——-

The arena is even louder and more chaotic during the Skills Competition and you’re having fun with Liana, taking pictures and getting snacks while you wait for everything to start.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, scrolling through Instagram before the events start. The reel the team’s socials have posted of Mat picking out his skate blades has your panties immediately damp and you’re ready to demand it get taken down for your own sanity. You shift in your seat, damp fabric scraping against your wet cunt.

Liana looks over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. “Oh gross,” she fakes a gagging noise. “He needs to put those away.”

“Or save them just for me,” you mumble, for her ears only. As much as you love Nadia and Michael, they don’t need to hear how horny you are for their son. Liana bumps your shoulder and your fingers slip over the screen.

“I’m gonna go blind, put that thirst trap away,” she frowns. “They’re going to start now.”

She’s right and Mat is the first one introduced on the ice. The four of you jump to your feet and scream for him, your heart pounding with excitement. Mat looks so stupidly happy to be on the ice, you can’t help but let out an extra loud wolf-whistle for him.

The Fastest Skater competition is up first and you won’t admit it, but you’re a little nervous for Mat to hold onto his title. You clench your hands together while William Nylander, Quinn Hughes, and Cale Makar go, crossing your fingers when their times are all over 14 seconds.

Mat’s fourth and you scream when he’s under 14 seconds, holding first until, of course, Connor McDavid unseats him. It’s annoying and a little frustrating, but you’re still beyond proud of Mat for being so close.

“Fuck that!” Liana grumbles, echoing your thoughts.

“He’s fastest skater in my heart,” you whisper back, purposely not telling her your plan to giving him a blow job at the end of the night.

One Timers is next. Honestly, you have no idea what the rules on this one are, but you just enjoy the show. Especially since Mat’s not that great in this competition in the end. You can see the scowl on his face and even Nadia laughs a little.

“He’s so hard on himself, even for fun events,” she shakes her head.

You can see him shake his head after his turn at the Passing Challenge, but honestly you’re really just focused on down damn good he looks with the backwards cap on his head. Watching Mat show off his skills is always your favorite thing. Mat takes third in this challenge and then talks to Kevin Weekes on ice and you record him while he talks, loving that crooked smile of his.

“I can’t believe he’s tied for first,” Liana shakes her head, filling in Michael and Nadia as they come back to the seats with drinks. “Think he’ll drop a couple thousand my way?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” you nudge her side. “Right after he funds my tropical vacation.”

During the musical break, you both get up to use the bathroom and stretch your legs. Your phone is vibrating with texts from the team and the girls, chirping Mat and making sure you know to pass on the messages.

Mat’s final event is Stick Handling and you keep your fingers crossed throughout the break - he’s in third overall and honestly you think he could pull off a win. Either way, you know you’re going to celebrate with him later.

“That’s my man!” You shout when Mat’s announced for second place. “Silkiest mits in the league!”

Liana and Nadia jump up to celebrate with you - Mat’s tied for first over all with one competition left.

He makes it to the next round and the three of you cheer, laughing and more than a little tipsy off of arena beers and cocktails. It’s so much more fun to cheer him on and celebrate Mat with his family.

“I always forget how good he is,” Nadia comments. “I know he’s good, but he’s having fun out there too.”

“No, he was literally off the wall excited to come back,” you tell her. “Being selected and then getting to replace Jack Hughes in the skills comp, on top of the new coach, Mat’s been in such a good mood lately.”

“He’s also whipped,” Liana teases you. You stick your tongue out at her.

“He just knows when he has to listen and turn off his hockey brain,” you shrug, talking over the music.

“Oh, Mat sucks at the shootout,” you groan, seeing what the One on One competition entails. “I just need him to not be last on this one.”

Mat picks Igor Shesterkin as his goalie and you watch him collect six points and sit in a tie for third. The New York rivalry runs strong and you can’t wait for the Stadium Series game in two weeks. You’re kind of treating the cold in Toronto as a preview of sitting out in the cold in New Jersey.

And with that, Mat’s onto the final round.

“One step closer to that cool million,” Liana grins. “You know how big of an engagement ring you could get with that…”

You choke on your sip of water and Michael claps you on the back while Nadia frowns at Liana. “No way I need or want something that big,” you manage to squeak out. “Not to be, like, basic, but I’d take a page out of Taylor Swift’s book and marry him with a paper ring.”

Your entire face feels like it’s burning red, talking about marrying Mat in front of his parents. You do, obviously, want to marry him, but it feels strange to say so in front of his parents when you’ve only met them a handful of times.

Liana’s shit-eating grin is identical to Mat’s. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says and when you try to say anything, she shushes you and points to the ice, where the obstacle course is starting.

“Oh, he’s locked in,” Liana says and you’re all leaning forward in your seats as Mat goes through the obstacles.

“Oh god,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands as Mat struggles with the little nets. Liana and Nadia wince at your sides. It’s like a train wreck, you can’t look away from his struggle. When they have to bring out more pucks for him, your heart sinks into your stomach.

Mat’s time in the end is awful, and you can see his disappointment on his face when he looks up at the jumbotron. He would’ve beaten McDavid if the nets hadn’t tripped him up.

“Ah, he did his best,” Michael says and you nod. It sucks that Mat didn’t place higher, but you’re so proud of him. Considering he wasn’t even chosen to be in the Skills Competition in the first place, the fact that he made it to the final round and nearly won is an incredible effort.

Mat texts you all in a group chat that you’d honestly forgotten existed, letting you know that he still has to shower and do some media availability, so he’ll meet you all back at the hotel.

Michael and Nadia decide to head to bed and you promise to let Mat know - you’ll all get together for breakfast before Mat goes to his morning skate before the game at 3. You and Liana hang out in the hotel bar until Mat joins you a little more than an hour later, spotting you immediately and wedging himself in the few inches of space left in the arm chair you’re sitting in. He squishes you to the side with his thighs, spreading them without concern. His arms wrap around your shoulders and he kisses the side of your head. “Hey, Squeaks,” he greets you, adjusting so one of your legs is draped over his and you’re as close as you could possibly be.

“Jesus,” Liana mutters. “Get a room.”

Mat squints at her, “I would love to.”

You nudge his side and murmur, “behave,” at him. All that does is encourage Mat to get in your face and kiss you hungrily. A surprised giggle is swallowed by Mat’s mouth and Liana’s disgusted scoff makes Mat smile against your lips.

“I’m going to bed,” she pushes up from her chair. “See you two in the morning. And wear a condom, I’m not ready to be an aunt.”

You and Mat choke simultaneously, Liana’s laughter echoing as she dances away. You drop your forehead to Mat’s shoulder and he shakes his head, “she really knows how to kill the mood.”

When you shift your leg though, you can feel the bulge of Mat’s cock against your thigh. “I don’t think she killed the mood that much,” you tease, curling closer to him. “Should we go upstairs and I can reward you for being the all-star of my heart?”

“Cheesy,” Mat accuses even as he’s pulling you to your feet and guiding you to the elevator bank. “I’m exhausted though, I didn’t realize how much work the obstacle course would be.”

“I’ll do all the work, don’t you worry,” you grin at him.

Less than ten minutes later you have him on his back, cunt clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mat groans, fingers digging into your hips. “Baby, god, fuck feels so good.”

You lean forward, bouncing over Mat’s cock, nails digging into his chest. “Wanted to do this all day,” you gasp. “All the posts, your fucking thighs, Mat! Been soaked for you.”

He laughs underneath you, sliding one hand to play with your clit. You whine and feel your arousal leak from your body, smearing all over Mat’s pelvis. “Thought about riding my thighs, baby?” He asks, gripping your hip even tighter and helping you bounce on him.

“Every fucking day,” you admit, choking on air when Mat bucks his hips up into yours, the head of his cock smacking against your g-spot. “All-Star Mat is my favorite Mat.”

His face is red from exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, but even still you can tell that your praise is getting to him, flushing his chest pink and making his rhythm over your clit stutter. You grin wickedly down at him, knowing exactly how you want to play him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur sincerely, grinding down on him. “Came in and killed it, made it look easy,” you hiccup on a particularly aggressive bounce, “so fucking handsome. My all-star. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Fuuuuck” Mat drags out the curse, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress so he can fuck up into you roughly. “Jesus. Wanted to win ‘cause you were there.”

You whimper every time Mat’s cock hits your g-spot, nearly there, and praise him again, “always a winner. Always my winner. Love you so much.”

Mat’s cock thickens inside of you while you clench around him and you plant your hands on his stomach for leverage and to feel his muscles bunch up in the lead up to his orgasm. He groans and squeezes a handful of your ass, bucking up into you harshly. “Gonna - sorry, baby. Need to come,” he groans your name, filling the condom with a deep growl. You keep riding him through it, replacing his hand on your clit with yours so he can grip your hips and bounce you while he finishes.

“C’mon, fill me up,” you whine, chanting his name, rolling your fingers over your clit until you finish a few seconds after him, gushing around the base of his cock and his lower stomach. You slump over his chest and Mat grunts underneath you, smoothing his hands over your ass.

“God, that was fucking amazing,” he mutters into your hair, kissing your cheek. “Gotta be the all-star more often.”

You laugh and wiggle your ass over him, cunt clenching lazily around him. “I dunno, I was supposed to take care of you, but you took over there for a bit,” you mumble against his skin.

“Couldn’t help it,” he shrugs, “looked so fucking good with your tits bouncing, that gorgeous face you make when I hit as deep as possible.” He yawns a little, swallowing the last few words of his sentence.

“Shut up,” you laugh lightly, swatting at his chest while you roll off of him, sticky and sore. Mat moves to get up, but you push him back a little and wrap a hand around his hip. “I’ve got it.” You make quick work of the condom, tying a knot at the top and padding into the bathroom to get rid of it. You rinse off quickly and bring Mat back a damp washcloth to clean off his stomach, but by the time you get back into the bedroom, he’s got one arm tucked behind his head and he’s fast asleep, letting out gentle grumbling snores.

You laugh a little to yourself, shaking your head. Men.

Still, you wipe him off carefully - not that it matters, he doesn’t move at all - and climb into bed with him, after stealing a clean t-shirt from his suitcase.

Mat chokes a little on his snore and rolls over, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you close to his chest. His arm is a strong lock over your stomach and you shift, getting comfortable before falling asleep with the warm weight of Mat’s body at your back.

You wake up a little bit later, with one of Mat’s thighs wedged in between your legs, corded muscle pressed up against your cunt, making it throb. You grind experimentally over his leg and he grunts against your hair, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and making you shiver.

“Mat?” You whisper his name quietly and his arm tightens around your waist. You trace your fingertips over the veins on his hand.

His thigh flexes against you and you gasp, warmth pooling between your legs.

“Told you to use me,” Mat mumbles sleepily, kissing behind your ear. “Go ‘head.”

His hand is splayed flat over your stomach and he pushes gently, spurring you into movement. Your hips rock lazily over his thigh, the sleepy rhythm making it hard for you to hold onto the coil of pleasure. Mat rocks his half-hard cock into your backside and you sigh softly, heat building in your blood.

“Feels good,” he sighs, helping you move over him, eyes still shut. He hikes his thigh up higher, catching your clit on his leg hair and sensing a wave of pleasure through your body.

You whine his name, burying your fingers between your legs to help coax yourself to an orgasm. “Wanna feel you,” you whisper and Mat’s hand slips between your bodies, leaving your stomach cold, so he can roughly jerk his cock a few times, tugging until he’s harder.

He pulls you back by the hip, until his cock is nestled between your thighs and you angle back against him, slipping the head of him inside your entrance. A breathy sigh escapes your lungs and Mat rocks his hips so his cock thrusts in and out of your shallowly. Between his cock and your fingers, you’re falling over the cliff of pleasure within seconds, slick covering your thighs.

“Roll over,” you rasp, legs still trembling. You’re not about to go searching in the dark for a condom, so you settle yourself in between Mat’s powerful thighs and take him into your mouth, tasting yourself on him. Both of his hands land on your head, tangling in your hair and holding you in place while you lick at him, kissing the head of his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him until he’s coming in your mouth.

Mat groans, hips bucking up into your mouth, eyes screwed shut. “Babe, christ, love that fucking mouth,” he says hoarsely, hauling you up his body when you’re done so he can kiss you sleepily.

You’re exhausted and close your eyes again, lying over Mat’s chest, his arms wrapped around your back. “You make me so stupid,” you mumble against his collarbone, asleep before you know it.

——-

Saturday is the big game day and after your middle of the night sexcapades, you and Mat oversleep so he just barely has time for breakfast with everyone before he’s off to the arena for a little morning skate and a brief stint on NHL News.

You and the Barzals decide to take in a little bit of the Fan Fest before exploring downtown Toronto before the game starts. It’s fun to spend so much time with Mat’s family and you’re looking forward for them to coming to Long Island for Easter.

The games themselves are beyond fun to watch, since the guys are all taking it seriously while still having a good time.

When Mat and Team Bieber make it to the finals, you and Liana are beside yourselves, screaming with excitement.

“Mat willed them to a win so he can spend more time with Justin,” Liana laughs and you agree.

“Honestly, I’m not convinced he wouldn’t dump me for Justin,” you snort, snapping a picture of Mat on the ice.

Team Bieber/Matthews wins the whole thing and you know it’s just a silly fun weekend, but you can’t help be so incredibly proud of Mat and his performance all weekend. He’s been so light and happy all weekend and you know it was the break he needed to reset for the second half of the season.

After he finishes with post-game media availabilities - where he apparently mentions his future kids, much to Liana and Nadia’s delight and your slight panic, one day but definitely not any time soon - he comes and meets you all for dinner. Mat’s still buzzing from adrenaline and won’t shut up about Justin Bieber as a coach.

“He was just so invested,” he says. “Really wanted to win and knew what he was talking about.”

“Who’s a better coach,” you cut in slyly, “Justin Bieber or Patrick?”

He pins you with a wry look, as his parents laugh. “Squeaks, that’s just not fair.”

“It’s also not even a competition,” Michael points out. “I would think Patrick Roy has nothing on Justin Bieber’s enthusiasm.”

You recognize your boyfriend’s father’s sarcastic joke and giggle. Everyone knows about Patrick’s enthusiastic coaching style.

“I actually can’t wait to get back to it,” Mat says, swiping a bite of your steak off your plate. “I feel really good about the back half.”

Dinner continues comfortably for another few hours, Mat soaking up time with his family while he doesn’t have to worry about practice or a game tomorrow. Eventually, you all head back to your rooms - the Barzals are flying back to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon, while you and Mat get to enjoy the day together before the team flies in before the game.

“Oh, hey, check this out,” Mat’s nearly bouncing when you get back to your hotel room, directing your attention to a huge gift bag sitting on the bed.

You raise an eyebrow, “all star game swag?”

“Even better,” Mat’s eyes are wide. “Justin gave us all some stuff from his line.”

Muffling a giggle with your hand, you poke at the gift bag. “Justin? Your new best friend?” You ask, dryly, spotting a grey hoodie at the top of the pile.

Mat nudges you with his knuckles. “Just for that, I’m not sharing my new gear,” he informs you, pulling each item out of the bag. He’s like a kid on Christmas, giddy with each piece of merch and relaying more stories about Justin behind the bench, like you haven’t heard them all already.

You indulge him, getting ready for bed as he talks, giving him a soft, affectionate smile when he finally pauses his yapping. “You are such a dork,” you murmur, squishing his cheeks between your palms and planting a quick kiss on her pursed lips. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

——

Sunday is quiet, festivities over. Mat immediately pulls on his new Drew hoodie and you snag the sweats, going for comfort over fashion for your day.

“Steal that sweatshirt and send it to me,” Liana says, hugging you goodbye.

“Over my dead body,” Mat shakes his head at her. “Buy your own.”

You sling an arm around Mat’s waist and lean into him. “Oh, calm down. No one’s stealing the gifts your boyfriend gave you,” you wrinkle your nose at him in a crinkly-eyed smile.

He snaps at the waist band of your pilfered sweats and gives you a stink eye. You laugh, “I live with you! They’re going back to our shared dresser.”

“In my drawer,” Mat says and you nod, indulging him. You both know that you’re keeping the sweats.

Once Mat’s parents and Liana are off to the airport, the rest of the day is chill. You’re soaking up the time with Mat before he goes back into the grind for the back half of the season.

“Hey,” you say at dinner later, nudging his foot with yours under the table.

Mat looks up from the menu, hair a little messy, eyes still bright from the excitement of the weekend.

“I just…I’m really proud of you,” you manage to say around the little ball of emotion in your throat. You reach across the table and lace your fingers with his and Mat squeezes them gently. “This has been the best weekend and I hope you get to bring this excitement to the back half of the season.”

His grins at you, that crooked smile of his that you love so much, and says, “having you here was the second best part of the weekend.”

“Let me guess,” you deadpan, “becoming besties with Justin was the best part?”

He nods, eyes twinkling, “yep.”

“I hate you,” you snort a laugh, smiling despite yourself.

“It’s a really close second though,” Mat assures you.

With a faint sigh, you shake your head, “I see where I stand. Maybe I’ll just have to cheer for the Leafs tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mat rushes to say and you kick his shin lightly.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “What kind of Long Islander would I be, rooting for the enemy?”

Mat pinches your palm, “a terrible one and an awful girlfriend too.”

You hum and say nonchalantly, “you’d think two blowjobs in a weekend, plus riding you, would cement me as best girlfriend ever.”

“Make it three and I’ll marry you right now,” Mat jokes, surprising a laugh out of your chest. Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the mention of marrying Mat, even as a little joke. You want to be his forever.

“You know,” you say, voice shaking just slightly, “marriage is all about give and take.”

Mat bumps his knee against yours, grinning wickedly. “Baby, if you wanted an orgasm, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low so he won’t be heard in the restaurant.

Your entire body heats with lust and you brush your fingers over your lips, hiding the involuntary little smile Mat’s words elicit. “Oh,” your voice is breathless, “well, if that’s all it takes.”

“You going to ask for what you want?” Mat asks, running his thumb over the backs of your knuckles.

Leaning forward, you hum, catching the faint hint of Mat’s cologne and the hotel shampoo. You wet your lower lip and watch as Mat’s gaze tracks the tiny movement of your tongue. Quietly, you murmur just for Mat’s ears, “I want some all-star orgasms before I become a hockey widow again.”

Mat chuckles and leans forward too so he can give you a quick kiss. “I think I can make that happen,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. You can see from the way his body shifts that he’s spreading his legs again. You shift in your seat, feeling hot. He smirks a little at you, clearly seeing the way your body reacts to him.

Fuck, it may be a three blowjob weekend after all.

[i-luv-p0tat0es]

Glassheart Modern Prep School AU!!

This is just an idea I’ve had, it probably doesn’t make much sense without context but I’m posting this anyway!

Chloe has always had one goal. Be perfect. She knows it’s unrealistic, her therapist tells her it’s not the best goal to have. But it’s the standard that she sets for herself, and for the past 16 years she’s been doing a damn good job.

It’s funny how her entire world is flipped on its head when a new girl comes to town and shows her that her flaws are what make her perfect.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Chloe suddenly regretted not accepting her father’s help with her bags. She had to haul her copious amount of luggage down the long and familiar halls of Auradon Prep. Eventually, she got to her dorm and set them down, she pulls out a small keycard and slides it into the lock. She waits for the green light to flash as she hears a click. She opens the door and starts to put all of her stuff down as she breathes in the familiar smell of her room.

With a content sigh she took in the space around her. It was mostly the same as when she left it, the walls were still that same off-white color, the beams still had the intricate wooden texture, and the windows had the same view she loved looking out at in the morning. She made sure to check the kitchenette first, looking for any faults, making sure the sink was running and the fridge was cold.

Chloe remembers her parents telling her about someone sponsoring the school, their child would be attending this year, and they had paid to put new equipment in all around the building. It showed when Chloe opened the cabinets expecting a loud squeak, but was met with silence instead.

Heading up to the loft she looked at the plain beds sitting up there and the door that leads to the balcony between them. She jumped onto the one she had claimed when she first moved in, sinking into the memory foam she reminisced on the past few years.

She remembered how happy she was to have no one sharing this space with her. It got lonely sometimes, but it made her cherish being on her own. So what she only had 2 real friends, one of them being her cousin, she was fine by herself. She talked to a lot of people, and people loved talking to her. Her last name had irony to it and it was not lost on her. But the conversations she had were only ever surface level with them. No one ever really stuck around.

And Chloe was perfectly fine with that.

She got up and walked into the bathroom, making sure everything was in good shape. Once her small check was done Chloe pulled out her phone and took a picture in the mirror smiling. She sends it to her family group chat, and grins as replies start flooding in.

Papa 👑: Theres my pretty girl!!

Brobear 🧸: nerd

Mommy💙: Hi darling! How’s move-in day going?

She’s about to reply to her mother when she hears the door click from downstairs. She goes out to check who entered when she’s met with a head she’d never seen on campus. She knew everyone on campus.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” Chloe called as she walked down the stairs to talk to the girl.

The girl whips her head around and Chloe freezes for a moment. When the girl’s fiery red hair falls to frame her face Chloe knows. She knows this must be the new student because she would have remembered that face. Chloe can’t help it when her eyes start to look over the girl, her amber eyes are glowing as the window lets the sunlight peak through the blinds, her nose ring standing out against her skin. And, God, the lips that start turning upward into a smirk. Chloe’s gaze flicks back up to the girl’s eyes when the lips start moving.

“W-What?”

“I said my name is Red,” Chloe blushes as she chided herself for not paying attention.

“You’re the new student?” She asks the obvious question because her mind is still trying to catch up after seeing the girl. She already knows the answer as Red nods. “And you’re staying here?”

[potatoplace]

Control II

Azriel x Reader

Part 1

Story Summary: On your 145th birthday, your mate Azriel has a very special day planned for you. His only requirement of you is that you give up control and follow your instincts.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and domestic violence, killing your husband, ddlg, allusions to sex, egregious usage of pet names

Author's Note: Welcome back! If you haven't yet, go read the first part of this, the link is at the top of the post! I hope you all liked the first part, and again, there may be a smutty epilogue in a few days, but no promises.

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

You’re awoken again by Azriel moving, this time he’s gently pushing you into a seated position, the blanket slipping from your body and you let out a sleepy moan, not ready to be separated from the warmth of Azriel’s body.

“Come on, princess, let’s go get dressed for dinner.” You only push back into Azriel’s grasp, wrapping your arms around his torso. “If you get up and get dressed now, we will snuggle and stay in bed for as long as you want tomorrow morning, baby, I promise,” he offers, and it’s tempting enough that you unravel your arms from him, looking up sleepily at his face.

“What’s for dinner?”

“I booked a private booth at your favorite, Georgina’s.” You hum in approval, standing up without him prompting you, the promise of one of your favorite dishes too great to resist.

Azriel chuckles, then follows you into the bedroom.

“Did you want to wear the dress from earlier again, or the one you picked out today?”

“The one I picked out today, please.” He slowly undresses you, down to your underwear. He gets a pair of tights that match your skin color from the dresser and slips them onto your legs and over your hips, then grabs the dress from its bag, slipping it over your head and tying the ribbon into a bow on your back with caring hands. He kissed from your ear down your neck, the sensation leaving you with a different type of hunger.

Azriel stepped away from you, going to the closet and pulling out a suit, quickly redressing himself.

“Alright, baby, let’s get you dressed for outside,” He says, pulling you toward the entryway for the second time today. He bundles you up carefully before getting his own winter wear on, then guides you out the front door into the wintery cold.

On the walk to the restaurant, you pull your scarf up to cover your mouth and nose to protect your face from the slight breeze. Azriel sends his shadows out in front of your path, clearing the snow to help make the trek easier for you.

You arrive at the restaurant quickly, a waiter leading you back to a secluded both, mostly hidden from sight of the other diners. Azriel removes both of your coats, hats, and gloves, handing them to the waiter to store in the back. Once he’s left, Azriel sits down, pulling you onto his lap.

“Azriel, what are you doing?” You hiss in his ear, nervously lookIng around to make sure nobody can see you perched on your mate’s lap.

“You will sit right here for the entire dinner, baby, and I’m going to order for you and feed you every bite of food. And you’re going to keep being my good little girl, right? Because daddy’s got a surprise for you later, and you want your last birthday present, right?” He whispered lowly in your ear, and you cheeks flamed up in an instant-

You had thought he had forgotten.

A few months ago when you and Azriel had been entangled with each other, you had accidentally let slip one of your biggest secrets- you had been so caught up in the way he felt, so in love and safe and feeling cherished that you had moaned out a soft “daddy” as you came, your cheeks flushing much like they had now. But Azriel hadn’t so much as mentioned it, just nuzzling his face into your neck as he followed you over the brink.

With your eyes wide from mortification, you turned to look at Azriel.

“Hey, hey, sweet thing, what’s wrong?”

“You- I- don’t… don’t tease me,” you finally manage to get out, stumbling over your words in your embarrassment and turning your face into his shoulder.

“I’m not teasing, Y/N.” Azriel manages to lift your head so he can look you in the eyes. “I want nothing more than to provide you with everything you want, and that includes the things that you are to shy to ask for. I would love to play out this fantasy of yours, especially because it’s a fantasy of mine as well.”

The heat of your cheeks subsided slightly at his admission, and rushed between your thighs instead.

“Really…?” You ask in a small voice, needing a second confirmation to be certain, to trust your mate with the side of you that you hadn’t even explored yet.

“Yes, my sweet babygirl. I would love to be your daddy,” he whispers, just as the waiter returns to your booth.

You hide your head in Az’s shoulder again, relaxing a bit when his wing comes to wrap around you. Azriel orders for the both of you, but you aren’t paying attention to what, only waiting for the other fae to leave.

Shyly, you look back up at Azriel’s face to see that he’s already watching you intently. Your mouth parts, and you sigh, “Daddy…”

“There she is, my sweet princess,” Azriel coos, a hand coming up to brush against your cheek. You turn your face slightly and press a loving kiss to the scarred flesh.

The two of you sit wrapped in each other, Azriel feeding both of you pieces of buttered bread every now and then and giving you a few sips of wine until the waiter returns, bearing two dishes in his arms.

He sets them in front of the both of you, one your favorite pasta dish, creamy with pieces of beef and mushrooms, and the other a large steak with a roasted potato and carrots on the side.

Azriel waits until the waiter leaves to begin feeding you, starting with the pasta. It’s as delicious as always, and you relax fully into Azriel’s comforting embrace. He feeds you a bite of everything before he begins to eat himself, you notice.

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, and you only tense when the waiter returns to check on the two of you every so often. Azriel’s free hand was stroking up and down your spine soothingly the entire time.

It was perfection.

“I’m glad you think so, baby girl.” Your cheeks heated once again, had you really said that aloud without realizing?

Oh well. Azriel is happy that I did, that’s what matters.

He goes to feed you another bite of pasta, but you turn your head to nuzzle into his neck instead, feeling like you might burst if you have another bite.

“All full, baby?” You nod. “Okay, let me get this wrapped up and the check taken care of, then we’ll go home, okay?”

He takes care of everything in a few minutes, and then you’re being bundled up again and led out of the restaurant, back into the chilly air.

The two of you walk slowly back towards your home, but you pause in front of a small coffee stand where fae are lined up. You smell chocolate.

And suddenly your stomach doesn’t feel quite so full, you could definitely fit a bit of hot chocolate into yourself.

“Did you want something to drink for the walk home, baby?” Azriel asks, and you nod your head. “What do you say?”

He’s looking at you expectantly, and you know what he wants. You glance at the people in line in front of you, then move as close as you can to Azriel, standing on your tip-toes to whisper “Please, daddy, can we share a hot chocolate?”

The redness of your cheeks has almost nothing to do with the chill in the air at this point, but you don’t mind as Azriel’s lips break into a grin, the second of the day. “Of course, sweetness. Especially after you asked so nicely, my perfect little birthday girl.” You’re rewarded by a soft but passionate kiss, and a few minutes later with a delicious and warm drink, cupped tightly in your mittened hands.

Before you can return to walking back home, Azriel scoops you into his arms, holding you bridal style.

“This way you don’t need to walk, or let go of the cocoa when I want a sip,” he explained, but you knew he just wanted to carry you. He always has liked taking you places in his arms whenever you allow, and with his warmth pressed against you, you couldn’t think of any place you’d rather be.

By the time you make it home, the hot chocolate is gone and the chill is starting to get through your coat.

Azriel sets you on your feet once you’re inside, and wastes no time in ridding the both of you of your outerwear. He pushes you backwards by your hips, pressing kisses to your cheeks and lips, all the way into the bedroom.

Your knees meet the bed, and you fall onto it on your back, then prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Are you ready for your final present, baby girl?”

His hazel eyes are heated, a promise of pleasure in them.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you say breathlessly, and you know it will be a long night with your mate.

[mouwrites]

💜- Headcanons

💙- Oneshots

🩵- Blurbs/drabbles

ALL

Ninjas (+ Pixal) Reacting to Your Outfit in Prime Empire - 💜

Elemental Masters' Rocky Relationship With a Little Sister - 💜

Making Breakfast for the Ninjas - 💜

The Ninjas When You Get Brainwashed - 💜

The Ninjas When You Get Mad - 💜

Unintentionally Becoming the Ninjas' Little Sibling - 💜

Being the Ninjas' Little Witch Sister - 💜

How the Ninjas Act When You Get Captured - 💜

Ninjas With an Older Brother Figure - 💜

Cuddling With the Ninjas (+ Pixal) - 💜

Ninjas When You (Their Little Sibling) Are Taken - 💜

Ninjas When You Have Cold Urticaria (Cold Allergy) - 💜

Ninjas Finding You in Their Clothes - 💜

Ninjas Having a Nightmare Where You Die - 💜

Ninjas When You're Being Protective -💜

Ninjas (+ Pixal) With an Artist s/o - 💜

Ninjas With a Touch-Starved Partner - 💜

Ninjas With an s/o Who Gets Flirted With a Lot - 💜

Ninjas With a Sensitive Little Sibling - 💜

Kai, Cole, and Jay With an s/o That Can Turn Invisible - 💜

Ninjas With a Portugese s/o - 💜

Their Favorite Place to Kiss You - 💜

Ninjas When Your Parent is Ex-Military - 💜

LLOYD

(Movie) Comforting (Transforming) Oni Lloyd - 💙

Cuddling With Oni Lloyd - 💙

Lloyd With a Good Oni Reader - 💙

Lloyd With a Serpentine Hybrid Princess Reader - 💙

Lloyd and the Dragon Princess at a Ball - 💙

Lloyd Comforting You During a Thunderstorm - 💙

Lloyd Finding Out You're a Dragon-Oni Hybrid - 💙

Arguing With Your Brother Lloyd - 💙

Your Wedding Day With Lloyd - 💙

Being Lloyd’s Best Friend (?) ;) - 💜/🩵

Soulmate AU With Oni Lloyd - 💙

Lloyd With a Tall Girlfriend - 💜

Being Lloyd's Younger Twin After the Tomorrow's Tea Incident - 💙

Being Lloyd's Younger Twin After the Tomorrow's Tea Incident Part II - 💙

Giving the Green Ninja Advice to Ask His Crush (You) Out - 💙

Cheering Up Lloyd After a Bad Day - 💙

Lloyd Proposes to You - 💙

"Come here. Let me hold you." and "Your hands are warm." With Lloyd - 💙

"Come here. Let me hold you." and "You're safe with me." With Lloyd - 💙

"You're Beautiful." and "You have no idea how cute you are." With Lloyd - 💙

"I'm yours. I'll always be yours." and "You're beautiful." With Lloyd - 💙

Lloyd With a Winged s/o - 💜/🩵

Lunch? - 💙

Mercy (Shawn Mendes songfic) - 💙

Daddy Issues (The Neighborhood songfic) - 💙

COLE

Cole Adopts a Mystery Baby (You) - 💙

Cole Adopts a Mystery Baby (You) Part II - 💙

Cole Loving the Colors of Your Voice - 💙

Dating Cole Brookstone - 💜

"Please don't go." and "You're safe with me." With Cole - 💙

Hold On (Chord Overstreet songfic) - 💙

JAY

Comforting Part-Serpentine Jay - 💙

Jay Comes Home to Find You Sick - 💙

Kissing Jay Under the Mistletoe - 💙

Jay Finds Your Scars - 💙

Dating Jay Walker - 💜

Best Friend (Rex Orange County songfic) - 💙

KAI

Falling for the Mysterious Red Ninja - 💙

Comforting Kai After Seabound - 💙

Lloyd Sets You Up With Kai - 💙

Kai Sees You Get Hurt - 💙

Kai With an s/o Who's Health-Anxious - 💙

ZANE

(Movie) Zane With a More Human-Like Nindroid - 💙

Zane Patches You Up - 💙

Zane Finding Out You Have a Birthmark - 💙

"Please don't go." and "Whatever happens, I'll be here." With Zane - 💙

"I don't know how much longer I can do this." and "Please don't go." With Zane - 💙

"I don't know what I'd do without you." and "Your hair looks so soft." With Zane - 💙

NYA

Nya With an Oni Spy - 💙

Nya's Upper Body Strength - 🩵

PIXAL

Dating Pixal - 💜

Reading With Pixal - 💙

MORRO

Waiting For Your Morro - 💙

Waiting For Your Morro Part II - 💙

GARMADON

Being Garmadon's Pupil Before and After He Was Evil - 💜

(divider by saradika)

[bidisasterevankinard]

Tease tidbit Tuesday

I was tagged by @perfectlysunny02 💙

ok, so I should write other fics but this angst idea was born. meet titled(wtf?) fic "He's your forever (sometimes I wish it was me)", where Eddie pines over pregnant Buck who's happily dates Tommy and expects their baby (don't worry Eddie'll be happy eventually too)(More likely this fic is one of the part of mpreg series I plan)

Buck cooks the breakfast in crop top, and Eddie can't stop his eyes and mind wander to the little bump he's showing off with his choice of clothes. Tommy and Chris are still sleeping, so Eddie lets himself this moment of weakness when he knows no one will see him. He doesn't want anyone to catch him ogling his best friend's pregnant body, and precious little bump, that he's sure he can hold in his palm and it will fit pretty snugly. He doesn't need anyone to ask him why he's looking so fiercely. He definitely doesn't want to lie because he knows he won't convince anyone. But the truth is something Eddie will take to the grave with him.

No one will ever find out that he wishes he was staying in his kitchen with pregnant Buck and only Chris still sleeping in the house. No one will ever know he wishes Tommy wasn't so good for Buck and Buck is so in love with him. No one will ever judge him that even though he's incredibly happy for Buck and Tommy and excited to meet his godkid, he wishes it was not baby Kinard, but baby Diaz Buck growing with his body.

But it's not. 

"Can you start setting the table and then wake boys?" Buck asks, not taking his attention from pancakes and Eddie hums in affirmation, readily taking the chance to stop being so miserable pining over a man who was never his. Especially not in the house Buck and Tommy just moved together right before sharing happy news about how soon their family will grow.

"Morning," Tommy's hoarse voice cuts the silence of the kitchen, and Eddie nods and fakes a smile to his friend before Tommy gets all his attention to Buck, kissing him as if he's the most precious thing he has ever seen. He puts his hand on Buck's belly, whispering something to the man. Eddie feels sick how perfectly the bump and Tommy’s palm go together. As puzzle pieces.

Buck smiles and kisses Tommy again, "don't worry, our baby was pretty kind to me tonight. Barely any nausea."

Nodding with a smile, Tommy kisses his birthmark and hugs Buck's waist. Humming the song Eddie doesn't know, Tommy sways them a little as an impromptu slow dance. It makes Buck smile so brightly Eddie wishes he had ever seen that smile at him. He never did. It's Tommy's smiles. His boyfriend puts it on Buck's face. Not him. It never belonged to him. As Buck never did.

Taking deep breaths in and out, Eddie quickly puts the last plate and almost runs to the guest room. He needs a moment to get himself together and trying to get a grumpy sassy teen to wake up is a good way to forget how the man he loves so much has a beautiful morning with his boyfriend. Not with him.

Eddie hears pieces of their conversation coming from the kitchen. He hears talking about possible nursery colors and what renovations they need to do. He hears Buck saying the date and time of his next appointment with OB and Tommy’s the most gentle voice promises to be here for Buck and their baby.

He shakes his head and runs to the bathroom. He needs cold water. He needs some time for himself. To think only about good. About how happy his friends are. Reprimanding himself for being awful to their happiness, Eddie enters the room where Chris still snores peacefully, not knowing what a battle his dad has in his heart.

Np tagging @bewilderedbuckley @wikiangela @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @devirnis @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights @queerbuck @queerdiaz @watchyourbuck @evanbi-ckley @repressedqueen @racerchix21 @kinrdevan @theotherbuckley @theweewooshow @thatmexisaurusrex @powersuitup @pirrusstuff @saybiwithme @diazheartsbuckley @monsterrae1 @cal-daisies-and-briars @bekkachaos @lavenderleahy @leashybebes and anyone who wants to

[suraemoon]

I don't know if your taking request but your fics are amazing, and i just wanna cry reading each one -> there so beautiful. I was wondering if I could request a john egan x reader, where the reader is upset one day, and john finds her crying, and the whole thing is just fluffy and adorable. Thank youu!!!!🩷🩷🩷🩷

Baby Blues

John Egan x Reader

💙: It is John Egan’s birthday but that doesn’t stop him from dedicating the time to help his wife love herself again. For she’s the greatest gift he’ll ever have.

🌌 Warnings: Postpartum Depression, Body Dysmorphic Behavior, Self-Criticism, Body Insecurity, Talks about not eating, Anxiety

————————————————————————

You didn’t even bother to open the curtains this morning but pesky light still managed to slip through soft fabric and fill the cold bedroom despite all of your best efforts. A sun filled-life felt like an overcast of dark clouds that a wind of self consciousness called your way.

On a typical day, it was customary for a housewife to open the windows and air out the room after a long night. You learned that from the “The Housewife Guide” book your Aunt Nellie gifted you at your bridal shower. That same book is now well loved, repeatedly red, and sat on the shelf above your dresser. The aproned and pin curled housewife is taking dinner out of the oven with one hand while holding a baby in the other.

Maybe she was Rosie the Riveter’s long lost cousin.

The mother of domesticity.

Here to remind young women that war was indeed over and the role of a strong woman was no longer needed once the boys were home.

The factories might’ve laid them off but the marital bed will always welcome them back home with open doors and soft, feathery pillows.

The to-do book had a step by step morning routine and airing out the rooms of the house was written first on the list of tasks. While you’re at it, maybe wave at your next door neighbor who was doing the same exact thing. Some days you two had matching colored aprons and sleepy babies clutching to the fabric of your dresses prompting a sweet laugh that only a woman would understand.

But today, the less people who saw you, the better. The idea of fresh air did not sound the least bit freeing but suffocating instead. It will remind you of the tightness in your lungs as you suck in your stomach. New air is right there, but no you cannot have it. You won’t allow yourself to let it in.

September 8th.

It is none other than your husband’s birthday.

Reflecting on this year of his life, there was one extra special thing that this trip around the sun entailed for the pair of you. This was also the year that you and Bucky became parents. He had been by your side through it all; showering you and your newborn baby girl with everlasting love, ample care, and unfading attention that never lost it’s sense of vitality. These heartfelt behaviors came so easily to Bucky for his soul was a complex haven holding unfaltering flame. All of these factors only added to the heavy pressure of making today perfect for a man who has made your life better in countless ways.

Ever since you gave birth to your daughter, there had been an underlying sadness, an incomprehensible emotion that served a constant source of guilt and confusion for you. Your little girl was the best thing that ever happened to you, how could you feel raindrops when the sun was shining brighter than it ever had before?

Spontaneously feeling the urge to sob during her nap time

Crippling anxiety when the pressures of being a new mom in the midst of baby boom starts to catch up and suffocate you

Total neglect of your personal needs in fear of feeling vain

Every family member gravitating towards your baby without even having the decency of offering you a simple hello.

You simply were not yourself.

Earlier in the week, you had planned a birthday lunch for Bucky at the local diner. Your mama was coming over to take care of the baby, you and your husband would be alone all day, everything was supposed to be perfect. But standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom, wearing the new dress that was supposed to make you resemble an absolute dream was shaping up to be your absolute nightmare. It seems that your eyes have a lens of self-criticism that made everything worse.

It is a blue wrap around dress with a white floral design, a style that had grown very popular in the war due to the convenience of not requiring a lot of material to make. You had gotten this dress over a year ago and it simply did not look the same on your body as when you first tried it on.

Tears start to run down your cheeks upon looking at yourself in the mirror and taking in the reflection that you’re met with. The shape of your body simply isn’t what it used to be pre-pregnancy. This is something that you have noticed before and have tried to suppress, but it being Bucky’s birthday brought out every fear and insecurity about your body.

The pouch in your lower stomach area made you want to give up eating for a week. Sucking it in worked for a little while but was an impossible to uphold.

Is this cut shorter than the other dresses? Since when were your thighs so plushy? The sensation of your thighs touching gave you some sort of horrible reaction like you were allergic to your own skin.

Immediately, you start taking it off. The only thing that kept you from ripping the dress into pieces was the material perceiving instincts that you had developed during the war. When the dress drops to the floor, the lens of insecurity do not leave with it.

You’re met with the unforgiving reflection of your lingerie. A satin white one piece set, the same one you wore for your wedding night. You chose it for today to bring back sexy, sentimental memories from the first moon you and Bucky spent as husband and wife. When it was slipped on earlier it did not evoke any strong negative emotions, you actually loved the way it differed from the nearly tired Aprons and pastel peter pan colored dresses you usually wore. But now, staring and picking apart every little detail of your body, you can’t help but hate the way it looks. When you slipped it on last year on the morning of your nuptials, you were in the best shape you’d ever been in. Your bridesmaids recommended a pre-wedding diet that went beautifully and you had received a home workout book from your mother. But fast forward to today: it was too tight in some places, milk filled breasts spilled out of the cups, your arms have more fat on them than they did before.

Believe it or not, it was the lingerie that broke you. A piece of delicate fabric made to repsrent femininity and confidence, wearing you down until you were a ball of tears on your bedroom floor. You precede to slide your body backwards until your back could feel the wall and the coldness of the hardwood began to irritate the back of your thighs. The nearest shoe becomes a weapon as you hurl it at the unforgiving glass, flinching at the loud bang it made on impact, like the mirror was your body and your heaving figure was the destructive mindset trying to abuse it.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door and immediately you knew who it is. It is a warm knock. One full of certainty. Followed by a sing-song whistle.

“Honey?”

Oh no. He had left you in here to change and time had flown by quicker than you realized. He can’t see you crying, it’ll ruin the happy mood. He also can’t see you in the lingerie, your figure has never looked worse.

Your head drops on top of your knees as you wrap your arms around your legs. As if wanting to hide. As if scared of a man who has never once put an ounce of fear into your mind.

“Yes?” Your voices comes out more fragile and broken then you intend, making your whole body shiver in cringe.

“Are you okay in there? You said you wanted to get going by noon. Just making sure you’re still alive.” His knuckles make smaller knocks on the door, as if imitating a song.

“Um…” Your eyes begin to dart to the clothes hanging out of the wardrobe, the shoe sitting ashamedly next to the mirror, your dress still sitting in apollo of itself on the floor. “I need a few more minutes.”

“Alright, baby. Take your time. There’s no rush.” You can hear the pressure of his 6’2 body leaning against the door.

A few minutes pass by like a strike of lightning and you can’t stop the tears from rushing down your face.

Go fix your drawers and find another dress.

It’s not a big deal.

But you can’t. Your body is too weak to stand up.

Reality crashes down when the doorknob is heard twisting, the door is open but only open a centimeter. “Honey…I’m coming in.” He says that but he still waits.

“Bucky, two more minutes.. please.”

“I hear you crying in there. You don’t have to be alone. Let me help you.”

“Bucky-”

“Please. There's nothing else I wanna do but be there for you. Hearing you cry behind the door is torture. I can’t stand here and listen anymore.”

“Alright…”

The tall, commanding figure that is your husband enters the room gently and lightly as if everything is made of porcelain and he’s scared of his footsteps being too harsh or accidentally bumping into something that’d make everything go south.

In the center of the room, he sees the most fragile thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. It’s you, hands around your knees on the floor, sobbing in a set of lingerie. It was the oddest oxymoron.

“Baby…What happened? Is something wrong?”

There is a desperate but futile attempt to catch a tear threatening to run down your cheek. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m ruining your birthday. Making it all about me.”

“No you aren’t. Don’t say that. I just wanna make sure you’re alright is all.” Bucky makes sure that his steps are light as he walks across the room, he can sense obstacles but cannot see them. His biggest fear is making things even worse. Bucky’s heart yearned to be useful and he knew that. You both knew that.

His blue eyes would have took in the mess of a bedroom, one that resembled a retail store during the holidays, but instead fixated on only you.

His wife. The one who was always full of life, exuding kindness. The one made sure the whole house did not go to ruin with her careful routines. The one who ran her fingers through his hair when the nightmares became too much. She was a puddle of emotion on the floor and he was desperate to help her.

He sits down next to you. Your bodies are close but in fear of overwhelming you–in fear of breaking you–the only physical contact is his firm hand rubbing your back in a circular motion.

“Nothin’ looks good on me. I’m ugly, Bucky. I gave birth and nothing’s been the same. My midsection still looks pregnant. My skin breaks out. I ain’t got no waist. My arms are fat. It’s.,.it’s a disaster. A shitty disaster. It’s shitty. It’s…fuck!” Something about cursing felt so liberating in that moment. It’s a common habit you usually did not allow yourself to partake in. It was something that was a cause of many timeouts in your household growing up. But life did not want to cooperate to its own rules, so why should you?

He reprimands you, not for using the word shitty, not even for using the word fuck, but for using the word ugly. “I don’t want to hear that U-word coming out of your mouth again when talking about yourself. You ain’t ugly. There’s nothing ugly about you.”

There’s a whine of desperation to get a glimmer of understanding in his brain, “I don’t look like the girl you married. I feel like a total wreck.”

Bucky proceeds to take your left hand in his, running his fingers soothingly over your knuckles. When met with a wedding ring, disrupting the procession of soft skin, he stares at the gold fondly while processing your words. “And what did the girl I married look like? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’m looking at her right now. I see her every day, I make love to her at night, I can’t help but smile like an idiot when I see her wearing the ring I gave her…It’s you, baby.”

“You know what I mean! I don’t even recognize myself. I was never insecure, Bucky. This isn’t me. I look in the mirror and I don’t even recognize my own reflection. I’ve never felt so awful.”

Bucky sighs and then licks his plush lips before meeting your eyes again. “I wish you could see what I see. It’s the opposite of what you’re saying. You aren’t ugly or a wreck or whatever mean word you wanna say about yourself. God, you’re gorgeous. You’re stunning even when you’re crying your little eyes out.”

He is met with only a sigh and then one of the deepest hugs he’s ever experienced. It’s as if you were holding on to him for dear life. As if the world was a vast ocean and you were so afraid of losing yourself that you clung onto the only buoy that could bring you back to shore. Then there is a few minutes of silence, taking the time to hold one another. The only sounds are your little sniffles and Bucky’s warm breathing.

After the hug shifts from intensity to pure comfort, Bucky kisses the top of your head as you lean your head on his shoulder, your wet cheek dampening his shirt.

Your small voices breaks the silence as you whisper to him defeatedly, “I got a new dress..was sposed’ to wear it for your birthday.”

He raises an eyebrow not only from your words coming unexpectedly but also his natural sense of curiosity, “And what’s stopping ya?”

“It don’t look good.”

“Bullshit.”

“It doesn’t, Bucky! I think I’d know.”

“Go put it on and let’s see. I’ll be the judge and you be the model. Sounds like a good arrangement.” He gestures around the room to random articles of clothes misplaced everywhere, assuming that the dress in question is among the crowd.

“No, I gotta pick something else. I was trying to but everything I own is maternity clothes. I could probably pass for pregnant.” You laugh dryly but can immediately recognize that Bucky did not find it the least bit funny.

He sighs and you sit there for a while, when he speaks up it's in a low grumble, “Are you done being mean to yourself?”

“What?”

He sighs at your failure to comprehend his point but tries again, “I said, are you done being mean to yourself? Then we can get started on finding a solution, honey. There’s always a solution.”

“I already tried a diet.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He sits through for a moment in deep thought, you think about smoothing the crease between his eyebrows but you know your hand would be too shaky. He gets up from his spot next to you and starts to walk towards the mirror.

“Where are you going?”

He does a quick pose in the mirror in attempt to make you laugh and then waves you over with a chuckle, “C'mere baby. Wanna show you something. The mirror ain’t gonna bite.”

You scoot towards the front of the mirror and upon the realization that you would not be getting up onto your feet, Bucky sits down next to you.

Seeing your reflection in the mirror brings you back to reality for a moment. All of that sobbing without the realization of what the man comforting you might be seeing. A blush tinted your tear stained cheeks as you try to wipe away ruined mascara.

When you manage to get a considerable amount of black makeup from beneath your under eye, you look right at Bucky. His facial expression is nothing short of gorgeous as he stares into the mirror wistfully, lost in thought and admiration. But he isn’t looking at himself, when you follow his line of sight, he is looking right at you. “Can I tell you what I see for a second?”

“If you want to.”

He takes a deep breath, “God I’m bad at words but I’ll try. First of all, you’ve got the most stunning pair of eyes that I’ve ever looked into. Truthfully. Your eye contact could make a man swoon. I know from experience that it does. I remember when I first met you, I couldn’t tell my left from my right. I even forgot my own goddamn name for Christ’s sake. They’ve got so much warmth and sparkle. The way they light up when you're excited. Or the way you squint when I make ya laugh.”

Your cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink and you cannot help but smile at this sudden confession, immediately getting the urge to show your gratitude. “Bucky, I-”

“You’ve got the softest hair too. How do you get it so soft? They’ve gotta give you your own hair products or somethin’ so your pretty face can be on the covers of those magazines.”

“Bucky, it’s your birthday. I should be the one saying nice things about you, not the other way around.”

“Shhh.. I’m on a roll and you’re gonna mess me up. If I start stuttering, it’s your fault. You get me flustered. One flutter of those lashes and my train of thought falls off a cliff.”

“I’m the one that’s flustered. You’re so sweet and your words are so kind but…you really don’t have to compliment me just because I was crying.”

He kisses your cheek and whispers his words against your soft skin. “I’m not saying these things because you are crying, I’m saying them because I love you. I absolutely adore you and everything about you. There’s not a conceited bone in your body but, Jesus Christ, you deserve to feel good about yourself.”

“I don’t know what to say except that I’ll let you continue. I’m not gonna cut you off.”

“You don’t gotta say anything. Just listen, baby. Now let’s see…” Bucky’s hand starts to trial down your thigh, his lightly calloused palm being the perfect contrast from your smooth skin. “Your legs give every starlet on Sunset Boulevard a run for their money. So perfect and smooth. If I could spend every second of the day kissin’ em, I would. Hopefully, that’s in the cards for tonight. That’d make today an even better birthday in my humble opinion.”

You couldn’t help but comment despite your prior statement. “But my thighs-”

“-are absolutely incredible. You think I’m mad because you’ve got a little more thigh? The more, the merrier. Your thighs are absolutely delicious.”

His eyes trail down to your chest, taking it all in. “Is it too crude to talk about breasts in a motivational speech?”

You giggle in response to the question, “It might be.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes thoroughly entranced with the shape of your body as if mentally undressing you. “Oh well, I don’t care You’ve got the most perfect set of knockers to ever grace the earth. I know it’s impolite to stare but you’re my wife now, so I can admit that I proudly stare. I stare like an idiot to be exact.”

“You’re the only one I want staring at ‘em so that’s good. They’re all yours.” You can’t help but chuckle since your chest has always been something that keeps Bucky enthralled. He most definitely stared proudly and unapologetically even before the wedding ring got placed on your finger.

“If you thought breasts were too dirty for conversation, I’ll refrain from talking about pussy. Fits me like a fuckin’ glove. You’ve got the tightest, most satiny and gorgeous-You know what? We can save that for later on before I get distracted.”

“You’re too much.”

Bucky smiles not only at that response but also at the sound of your gentle laughter, “Wanna know what my favorite part of you is?”

“What?”

“Your heart, baby. I married the sweetest woman. I married the strongest woman. I married a girl that I want to spend the rest of my life with because she makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world. I’m walkin’ on clouds whenever you’re around. You bring the best out of me. You always know what to say. I’ll admit that sometimes I can be hard headed but you are always there. And I’d happily scream to the heavens that you’re mine. You ain’t anyone else’s but mine. Forever.”

You smile widely and take a deep breath. The reassurance and certainty of his words were exactly what you needed. Maybe you weren’t completely happy with yourself but the fact that you will have Bucky by your side through all of the tribulation, made a feeling of warmth and security spread throughout your body. It made you feel strong and fortified. “And I married the kindest, sweetest, most lovable man. Thank you, Bucky..for all of this. You really didn’t have to take time away from your birthday to lift me up like this , but you did it anyway. Now let’s spend the rest of the day celebrating you because that is what you deserve.”

“Then let’s go put that dress on, baby.” His voice is pure cuteness and it makes you swoon.

“Let’s put it on.” You smile and for the first time this morning, there’s a sense of hope and confidence in your delicate voice. Both of you stand up at the same time and Bucky runs a hand down the side of your satin lingerie, feeling the shape of your body. “Bucky, you aren’t even supposed to see this lingerie yet. I’m ruining the surprise.”

“This is what I have to look forward to later? All of this for me? Seeing it a little early doesn’t ruin anything for me.”

You reply, “But does not seeing me cry in it make it less sexy?”

“Not at all. Because when I take it off of you later, there’s gonna be nothing sad about it.” He shrugs with a smirk on his face, very confident in his statement. The two of you exchange a shared look of anticipation. Your mind wanders to the scene in question: coming home after the sun comes down after a day of festivities and having your husband on his knees, desperate to undress you. Eager to unwrap you like a birthday present and indulge in what’s his.

You’re taken out of these fantasies abruptly by a subconscious shake to the head: a habit of yours developed to help get back on task whenever you get whisked away by daydreams. You gesture at the blue dress still in its abandoned spot on the wood floor, “This is it.”

“Oh, it was right here the whole time? Let me help you, baby.”

Once you step into the dress, Bucky pulls it up your body as if dressing a doll. After putting your arms through the correct holes, you know that this is the final moment before it would be zipped up, becoming a showcase of your true figure. Unaware of your hesitation, Bucky takes the zipper and gently pulls it up, careful to not nip any of your skin. He then takes a step back to admire you and take in the beauty of the woman standing in front of him.

“You look absolutely stunning. God, you’re unreal. Do a spin for me?”

You do a quick spin and end with your arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. His lips are as soft as clouds but his desire for you is absolutely ravenous. You two move in a perfect rhythm with each other, going in for more and more as time goes on.

After a few minutes of kissing he pulls away and whispers in a raspy voice, “You had nothing to be worried about. I’m already thinking about taking it off of you but I’ll try to control myself.”

You smile at him, wiping some pink lipstick off of his lips with your finger. “C'mon we’ve still got a whole birthday to celebrate.”

“As long as I get to spend it with you, I’m the happiest birthday boy.”

————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed. This was my first time doing a full length MOTA fic and it’s been a while since I’ve written something so it definitely took me out of my comfort zone. 💙

[rivangel]

Omg Kane, I love your smiling Levi post so much I'm giggling every time I see it!! Speaking of which: do you have any headcanons to share with us about what / who makes Levi smile like this?

Take care 💙

thank you!! :D hmm

- it IS canon that Levi smiles whenever he sees his reflection in a clean window

- bet he smiles the same when he sees his reflection in a shiny clean sword/knife. melee weapons are one of his special interests sue me

- …Levi also smiled in the manga whenever armin was talking enthusiastically to eren and mikasa about exploring the world like they dreamed of doing as kids. maybe this was just a specific situation, but Levi strikes me as someone who smiles a little during really dark times when he notices a tiny glimmer of genuine hope. is that too serious? idk, like he wakes up from a terrible nightmare shaky with a cold sweat and finds his lover downstairs and humming while they brew tea/make some breakfast. he just smiles a little. it looks halfway pained but you’d know he was relieved and grateful if you saw it.

- he smiles easier whenever his horse Nibbles is chomping happily on apples levi feeds him or bunts his shoulder or something else cute like that.

- whenever Levi heard about trigger-action cleaning bottles. figuring out easier ways to clean is his jam. i wonder if he ever saw the invention of the electric vacuum cleaner

- whenever someone he really really cares about smiles and laughs he can crack a little half-smile sometimes that almost always goes unseen bc levi is stealth like that. especially if they’re normally pretty stoic like erwin, mike, or mikasa.

- btw he usually doesn’t possess the faculties to smile without covering his mouth or looking away btw. he gets embarrassed, and also he has crooked teeth so he doesn’t like his smile

- idc if this counts - Levi is easily EASILY ticklish and grins and giggles uncontrollably if you/his lover tickled the back of his neck fkskgkwjd. he HATES it. good return but expect payback.

- he can crack a smile when he receives a really, really thoughtful and sweet gift in private. big expensive gifts are the last thing levi likes because he feels so damn guilty about it. honestly if you got him a perfectly smooth little stone from a river that you washed, shined, and painted with blue white and grey (the wings of freedom colors), he’d treasure it foreverrr. and smile when you first place it in his hands of course.

- honestly when he thinks fondly about his mama back when he was little. it’s implied canonically that he’s a mama’s boy (when an interviewer asked isayama how levi would be if his mom lived when he was adult, he said levi would make sure she’s happy or something to that effect).

all that said, it’s just really, really hard to make levi smile because he doesn’t smile much or easily :( these are for sure tho. if anyone has any hcs feel free to pls add on :D

[bihansthot]

Hi Sol! I love your work, it’s all amazing! Can you write what a wedding with Bi Han be like? Like would it have flowers made of ice? Would it be a very private/intimate wedding? Are we going to wear Lin Kuei colors or wear traditional Chinese clothes? Thank you. 💙

Thank you so much lovely! I tried my best to imagine what an ideal wedding with Bi-Han would be like and this is what I came up with! Apologies to my Chinese friends if anything is inaccurate I tried to research as best as I could 🥹

A wedding with Bi-Han would be a very small, intimate affair. It would consist of only his inner circle so his brothers (we refuse to acknowledge what happened in the game for these headcanons), Sektor, and Cyrax and that’s about it.

The temple’s garden would glitter and sparkle with hundreds of your favorite flowers all made out of ice, all painstakingly crafted by your soon-to-be husband.

Interspersed between all the flowers would be lots of candles of various heights and widths in beautiful glass jars. The flickering and glowing candlelight reflects off the ice decor like twinkling stars.

Bi-Han expects a traditional wedding and would ask you to wear an exquisite qipao with an elaborate fur cloak to help protect you from the cold environment. He’s not a big stickler for the traditional red color but if you want to wear red that’s fine.

Bi-Han will be of course wearing blues, blacks, and silvers, his hair half up, half down with a metal guan holding it in place looking like he stepped out of a Chinese period drama. He looks incredible.

The ceremony will be very traditional and starts the night before with the hair combing ceremony, where the two of you comb each other’s hair to symbolize their new stage of adulthood. It will have to be altered slightly since Bi-Han’s parents are no longer alive but the sentiment is still there.

He will expect you to test his worth to earn his right to marry you by having your bridesmaids hide you from him until he proves his worth by telling them things he knows about you, eating bitter and spicy things to symbolize he can handle the ups and downs of marriage and finally giving them red envelopes of money showing he can take care of you properly.

What with Bi-Han not having parents the two of you agree to skip the tea ceremony but if your parents are present he will still offer your parents tea as a sign of respect for allowing him to marry their child.

Finally, the time comes for the ceremony and it is a hybrid of a Western and Chinese wedding with you walking down the aisle and being given away by your chosen person. The two of you exchange vows in the intimate setting of the beautiful garden with his fellow Lin Kuei and your small group of friends and family. Emphasis on small, Bi-Han is very wary about letting outsiders visit the Lin Kuei Temple, but he makes an exception for your wedding.

Afterwards is a lavish banquet catered by Madam Bo, there’s dancing and feasting, drinking, and fireworks to celebrate. You dance until dawn surprised by how carefree and happy your usually grumpy, uptight now husband is.

You’re both exhausted after the day’s festivities but that doesn’t stop Bi-Han from consummating the marriage the second he gets you alone.

[kaninn]

New totk zelink dangling charms is now available for preorders at my store shop.kan.io!

They came with teal-colored bunny claps. I love this design, especially the movement of Link, and Zelda’s meaty tail! I hope you like them too! Preorder period and other info, please see the item page! We also have an array of past fan-made merch that is in-stock currently. If anything tickles your fancy, please consider supporting us!!

💙shop.kan.io

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

Astarion x Tav

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

request: for @aristenfromwarsaw

Fangtastic days of our lives

➹summary: a comforting day/evening in the life of Astarion and his love Aristen after post-game settling down, takes an unexpected turn as Astarion while enjoying his new found life and love, sees something of interest…

➹pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Aristen by @aristenfromwarsaw)

➹content/tags: fluff, comfort, romance, smuty flirting, fun, slice of life, little tiny bit of angst and guilt

➹word count: 5,036

➹cameos: @evander-jane Devana Lysander @alpydk Ragnar @goromimii @pinkberrytea (by order)

➹a/n: another belated birthday present for @aristenfromwarsaw  Thank you very much for all the great photoshoots you always did for me, just like that. Such things really fill my heart with joy. I hope you like it. Thank you for trusting me with your Tav Aristen. I take writing other OCs really serious, because an OC is very personal thing and it is way harder to get them in character. I used the infos/backstory you gave me once about Aristen for the best I could.

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

Fangtastic days of our lives

Teak, mahogany, oakwood, dried tobacco with the hidden essence of vanilla. From somewhere the sweetness of honey and roasted nutmeg.

These were impressions of antique wood, boiling kettles, clanging beer mugs and laughing voices that filled the Elfsong tavern.

It was like a honey-colored, subterranean, starless sea.

A sea of ​​people, scents, voices and music.

A sea of ​​life that would envelop the coming evening when the sun would have completely disappeared, making way for the aurora again after the starry night.

Astarion was acutely aware of his surroundings. Perception meant survival.

But not today…not anymore.

He could simply explore and enjoy his surroundings while he waited for his beloved:

Aristen the storm sorceress and former daughter of Bhaal. She was able to walk in the sun and as a vampire spawn he had to wait until the sun had made the rays that were fatal to him disappear.

That didn't matter to Astarion. He was used to the night.

But he never wanted to go back to that cold, lonely life.

The Sorceress, along with the other companions, had freed him from slavery once and for all. But it was she alone who had given him back the vision of his eyes, of his entire senses. Astarion could sit in the tavern and just be, taking in the surroundings of life.

No more looking for victims. No more fear. Never again.

The Elfsong Tavern was full of life and he was part of it.

So after hundreds of years, Astarion could finally taste life again. See it. Hearing it with his pointy ears and feeling and smelling it warmly with the scent of pumpkin, butterscotch and spicy beer.

A quite pretty bard with white freckly tattoos on her face and braided crimson hair beneath her Tiefling horns played the lyre on the Elfsong stage. Astarion noticed dagger-shaped earrings on her pointed ears. The Avernus fire of her origins blazed in her blue eyes as she sang:

“Empty kisses, shallow words,

Fiery passion only hurts

When the sorrow takes an oblivion hint

Will you cure and begone with the wind…”

Astarion continued to look around while the sadly whispering voice reached his elf ears.

“I hope someone sings a song like that for me too. Such expressions of love really manage to make me weak,” sighed a tall black-haired woman, whose face bore at least as many tales of adventure as freckles.

"Me too. But I really hope that the ballad has a happy ending,” replied a long-haired beauty at her table. The human woman's wavy, light hair framed a gentle face with captivating blue eyes.

“Oh you heard that? Oh no! ", the adventuress, ashamed, put her hands on her head with her side-braided hair and covered cringing with embarrassment one of the green eyes. "I should stop talking loudly to myself."

The other woman laughed a little and her wavy hair swayed on the shoulders of the long, light dress with floral embroidery: “It’s all good. I won’t tell anyone else.”

She winked briefly.

“But tell me…” she took her hands away from her face with the little different eyes, “…you’re not from Baldur’s Gate either, right? You also speak with a different accent than me.”

"Correct. I come from the East..."

“What did she say? Sêlune guide me?”

Astarion was distracted by an almost desperate voice that sounded at least as concentrated and angry as it was beer-soaked.

He saw a barbarian sitting at the next table, holding his beer mug almost too tightly.

The raised dark blonde hair did not distract from the piercings and black war paint, which Lae'zel would certainly have approved of.

“Okay, can I memorize this Sêlune prayer or not?” he muttered to himself and downed the beer in one gulp.

Astarion had seen him before and that evening he had stared at Shadowheart the whole time. Was the barbarian building up – or drinking up - the courage to speak to Shadowheart next time?

The vampire was distracted from the barbarian when a pale woman walked past his table accompanied by a brown-haired man. He noticed them because they both had scars on their faces. But no, that wasn't it at all. Something else drew his attention to them...they smelled somehow, almost reeked of...swamp? No magic.

That same hidden scent of feymagic that came from the black haired adventuress with the freckles.

The woman's pale face was friendly, almost cheerful. She enjoyed the music and the sad ballad. Did she know the feelings and sad love that the Tiefling woman sang about?

Astarion was all the more struck by the face of the dark-clothed man with the scarred hands who accompanied her: he was rigid and joyless and his eyes had an almost malicious shimmer. He didn't seem to suit her. He walked rigidly like an aristocrat or a trained soldier, or was he rigid because of the blade - that was clearly visible to the Rogue - that he wore under his clothes?

The man's gaze fell on the bard's dagger earrings. But not only the brown-haired human looked at the earrings, but also a white-skinned, tall elf who walked behind him. Astarion didn't know what was more noticeable: his large deadly sword, the long white hair, the black tattoos on his face, or...or the earrings in the shape of a dagger that hung from his ears.

He nodded almost imperceptibly to the bard and she returned his nod briefly.

Frowning, Astarion averted his gaze and looked around the taproom.

Many of the guests listened attentively to the ballad. Couples in love held each other tightly and some wiped a tear from their face.

“…in the dark of the night I see your tears

Rubies glisten full of pain

Rage and misery

Don’t get lost in brandy, bergamot and rosemary”

The ballad finished gently and the bard stood up.

"Thanks! And now for the bard duet!”

With a wave of her hand, she invited her partner onto the stage.

Wild white hair adorned the scarred drow face. It looked like survival for Astarion.

She could be young and old at the same time, that's how it was always with the elves. Young pretty faces and centuries behind them. Sorrow, suffering, joy. Everything was possible.

The narrow waist with the subsequent curved hips and thighs with short pants was adorned with a weapon belt with a sword and a flute.

The skilled hand whirled out a shiny silver flute and the duo began to play:

„Two bards do the trick, because bards do it better

Drow or Tiefling, it doesn’t matter

Shiny white hair, or wagging tail

Their persuasion will never fail“

They quickly changed the melancholic mood and the silver flute had a captivating sound, as if it were a homage to a goddess.

“One plays the flute, the other smashes lutes

Buy us a drink and we’ll tell you who is who“

A Tiefling whose rosé colored hair matched her white pink frilly clothing cheered enthusiastically to the tavern song.

Astarion heard her applaud with a giggling laugh. Cute little laughs with a sweet smile upon her light face.

It was that kind of sweet laugh that told the vampire how innocent, unspoiled, kind and naive the person was.

Yes, the delicate Tiefling woman was a sweet, innocent thing, Astarion could tell that with just a sideways glance of his red eyes. The sweet and naive kind of girl that immediately fell for him. Who he easily ensnared and seduced for Cazador. Or was she one of the people he would have avoided because they were so naive...innocent, undeserving of it? He would probably have avoided her if possible because such a sweet, lovely person didn't deserve to fall victim to the vampires.

Astarion closed his eyes briefly and grimaced at the emerging memories that he immediately wanted to repress.

Thanks to his beloved Aristen, he no longer had to do this.

He was free.

Cazador dead.

All of Baldur's Gate saved, saved from the Empire of the Netherbrain and the Mind Flayers.

Yes, thanks to the blonde adventuress whose fate was forever intertwined with his and all her other companions, he had escaped his fate as a slave. Their courage and their determination, with the help of the other fighters, allowed him to defeat Cazador.

But not only that, the storm sorceress had also given him love and patience. And the confidence to be better than Cazador. He didn't need blood-soaked, soul-eating power to be safe, to be worth anything.

Astarion would never have to hurt innocent people against his will again.

All thanks to her.

And yet Aristen did not consider herself to be good, nor to be lovable.

She loathed herself for her actions as a born Bhaalspawn, which she only dimly remembered. No one could hate her more than she hates herself.

And perhaps it was even worse for her, imagining every day what atrocities she had committed in the name of the God of Murder instead of knowing for sure.

She didn't see herself as a lovable hero, a savior. Astarion wished so much that she could see herself through his eyes just once. Then she would finally forgive herself.

The problem was that the sarcastic vampire had never said that to her and perhaps never would. There would always be something gnawing inside him, at his battered heart, that would prevent him from casually revealing his innermost, deepest feelings. What if he did lose her to someone else one day?  If it would not be an arrow or observer to steal her from him? How could he then pretend that his vain heart had not been destroyed for all eternity?

Darkness crossed Astarion's face at all the thoughts and he shook his head with his white curls to drive them away.

Once again he let his gaze wander over the audience, while his pointy elven ears only casually listened to the singing of the bards. It was only thanks to his beloved Aristen that he was able to recognize the diversity of the guests gathered. To be recognized again.

It had once been a faceless mass. At some point, after all the years of slavery under Cazador, the people in the taverns had become nothing more than a uniform mush to him. Victims, cattle like sheep, to his master. Criminals who hurt him and whom he hurt in return and they became victims of the vampire lord.

Dark, blank faces.

Without eyes, without soul. Just like Astarion himself had felt.

But after Aristen came into his life - with the craziest tentacle adventure of his life - everything had gradually changed.

First he recognized her blue eyes, then her face. The smile of her lips plagued by guilt and bloody ghosts of the past. The same smile as his own.

Then he saw all the faces, the people, their stories and lives again.

He saw the colors. The differences and the similarities. He heard the voices, the laughter, the music. He noticed the scents and smells again. Astarion saw joy and life again.

A scent that stood out from the rest of the tavern's smells suddenly tickled Astarion's nose.

Orchid drifted discreetly from the front door.

A slightly tickling shiver ran over the tips of his elf ears, while Astarion was already peering towards the door with large, round eyes.

Like the true epiphany she was, a blonde woman made her way through the elven song. Her appearance truly stood out from the rest of the tavern's audience:

Her delicately pinned hair and a ladylike, sweeping blue dress made her truly look like a lady of name and rank.

Astarion smiled as he looked at Aristen's appearance.

She always made an effort to look chic and beautiful, no matter what the circumstances. Like a true lady who belonged in a ballroom and not a tavern.

A ballroom, not a bhaalroom.

But Aristen loved all facets of life and also sat in the meadow under a tree in the forest with her fancy dress on.

If Astarion had his way, then very soon she would be pressed into the grass beneath him with the dress rumpled.

He chuckled dirtyly to himself as he couldn't help but think of that thought. And before he even thought about the first visit to his grave together, he shook his head and pushed it all away from his white curls.

"Darling..." Astarion stood up after Aristen made her way to him, having spotted him with a smile beaming with joy, "...you give me all sorts of ideas as always."

“What do you mean?” the high elf asked in surprise and blinked in confusion because she couldn’t follow him.

“Nevermind little love,” Astarion grinned mischievously and briefly kissed her delicate hand in greeting. He gently stroked Aristen's hand again as he slowly lowered it.

“The sun has already set enough for you to go out, Astarion,” his lover informed him. She would pick him up when it was safe for him outside.

"I've already run errands from a few merchants," Aristen spoke as the two left the tavern.

"Nice. Then we can now buy the rest together. Have you got everything so far?” asked Astarion.

The blonde nodded as they stepped outside.

Astarion sucked the air outside the elfsong into his lungs. Had breathing changed since he became a vampire? After all, he was undead.

Astarion didn't know. He couldn't remember, it had been too long.

In addition, the past no longer counted - smiling, he glanced furtively at Aristen who was carrying the basket with the purchases - only the present and the future counted.

“Yes, I did the grocery shopping that wasn’t of interest to you,” the blonde laughed and winked knowingly. “There was wonderful blossom honey, I couldn't resist,” enthused the sorceress, rolling her eyes heavenly at the thought of it and licking her lips in anticipation of the taste of the honey.

“Then I can taste it from your lips and tongue,” Astarion whispered seductively.

"What?"

“Oh, nothing…” the pale elf just grinned again.

His pointed ears were suddenly tickled by the brush of her lips as she leaned in very close to him.

“I heard you very well, my dear,” she whispered to him, her blue eyes sparkling meaningfully at him after she leaned back and gave him a knowing smile.

The vampire laughed. It was a serious laugh. It went from its sonorous, seductive, dirty murmur to a deep rumble before dying out in a high-pitched spike.

“I saw such a beautiful pair of earrings in the window at the Glitter Gala,” sighed Aristen languidly after she continued the story.

“So why didn’t you buy it, darling?”

Aristen shook her head: “Because it’s not necessary. I prefer to save our money for important things. After all, magical artifacts are expensive and the most important thing is that we find something that makes you immune to the sun.”

Yes, that was the ambition and current mission of Aristen and Astarion: to find a way for the vampire spawn to walk in the sun again.

Their friends also kept their ears and eyes open.

Gale read every book that might contain useful information.

Shadowheart, as well as Lae'zel on her travels through the astral planes, always sent them messages when they heard about mysterious artifacts.

And Halsin and Jaheira also reached out to all their acquaintances from near and far.

"If you hadn't used so much of our gold to rebuild the city and help its people, then you could afford any jewelry you wanted," Astarion nudged her with his shoulder and winked knowingly. The slightly accusatory tone was just an act.

“You know I wanted to try to somehow make amends for my actions when I was under Bhaal's control. This will never work, I know that. I can't bring back the people I killed. But I can at least try to help those left behind. It's too little. It’s no consolation…but at least it’s something.”

There was sadness in the blonde's voice. The look in her blue eyes was sincere before they slid slightly to the ground.

Astarion didn't like that, so he decided to cover up the whole thing: "I don't know what you're doing with this penance and compensation anyway."

He casually folded his arms behind his head and sounded as indifferent as he could.

“But…” he grinned playfully at the blonde Sorceress, “we could visit The Counting House again with Minsc. Then we have enough money to play benefactors and buy jewelry and beautiful clothes.”

Aristen raised an eyebrow with an amused grin: "You want to volunteer to do something with Minsc, really?"

“Now that you mention it…argh…better not. You may find him amusing, but he's always bursting in to chatter about his hamster at the most inopportune times. The guard almost caught me picking the lock of the Tabernacle when he suddenly stood loudly behind me, screaming my name and his hug almost broke every bone in my body.”

“What did you want at the Stormshore Tabernacle outside of opening hours?” Aristen asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing!” Astarion quickly dismissed the topic. Too fast.

“What’s next on the list for today?”

“We really have to go to the Devil's Fee. It has finally opened since the devastating battle against the Netherbrain and the reprocessing. If there are special artifacts or information about them anywhere, it’s there!”

Astarion nodded eagerly and the two elves walked quickly through the streets of Baldur's Gate.

"Oh no! No no no!” Helsik shouted from afar as her eyes saw Aristen.

The Sorceress blinked in confusion at the violent reaction and she looked around to see if anyone else was behind her, as the shopkeeper thought she might be.

“Not you!”

"I? But…"

“Nothing but!” Helsik cut her off. “After last time, I already told you that it was too hot to be seen with you and that the store was off limits for now. After the fuss you caused with your little friend and the black-haired fuzzy head.”

Astarion grinned briefly. He knew exactly who the saleswoman was talking about. After all, they had learned of Bhaal's daughter's past and how she had been involved in the Grand Design.

“I have new business partners, so I don’t need loud attention, after all, hell operates quietly.”

“We don’t want to cause any problems, I swear!”

The vampire let his eyes wander over the lavish and devilishly mysterious display while Aristen soothed Helsik.

“We just want to buy an artifact or information. Nothing improper, nothing complicated, nothing dangerous. Just good old Mammon.”

“Child, you will never have as much gold as I want from you so that I can burn my fingers again because of you.”

"Are you sure? I'll pay any price...whether it's gold or otherwise. We're just looking for a way to break the vampire curse of being vulnerable to the sun. Please."

Helsik laughed briefly, compassionately, not maliciously: “Deary, at the Devil’s Fee we don’t break curses, it’s more about the other way. That should be clear to you from the name.”

“My Love…” Astarion slowly tore his eyes away from the display cases and stood next to Aristen again, “…let me talk to her. I think I can convince them better with less…emotional involvement based on old stories.”

“Are you sure?” Aristen asked, unconvinced.

“Of course, baby…” he was already pushed the Sorceress toward the exit, “…you go do the other errands in the meantime and leave this to me.”

Aristen left the devilish business and made her way to the large square of the lower city wall. She visited the arms dealers and her thoughts continued to dwell on the fact that if even devils couldn't find a way to free Astarion from his curse, who would?

She would never give up hope. Anyway, Helsik was probably right: if it was about help, then hell wouldn't be a good negotiating partner.

Maybe they should trust in nature, magic and clerics. The gods may not have heard Astarion then, but perhaps they could now request divine intervention?

The vampire could walk in the light of the Moon Maiden, perhaps Dame Aylin and Shadowheart could ask even more of Sêlune. Maybe she could expand her moonlight.

Perhaps…

“STOP IMMEDIATELY!”

Aristen was snapped out of her thoughts and the blacksmith who was stationed across from Sorcerous Sundries just handed her back Astarion's freshly sharpened dagger.

“COME BACK IMMEDIATELY!”

From the direction of the Devil's fee came rumbling, loud voices and, above all, lightning and sparks.

“Stop the criminal scum!” shouted a city guard. “Subject, let him stand still!”

“Where for?”

“That way!”

“Or rather there?”

“I thought I saw something in that direction…”

“Then I here, you there,” the steel armored guards rumbled.

The clatter of steel armor slowly faded from the blonde Sorceress's ears, but a perfume that differed from her own scent of orchid and rose reached her nose.

Aristen smelled cherries, musk, palmarosa, black pepper and…

“Does this belong to you, little mouse?”

…sulfur.

Raphael's slightly tanned complexion stood before her. His brown hair was done to perfection with meticulous work, as were his clothes. Large, sparkling brown eyes regarded her, both sublime and mischievous.

The devil in human disguise had the white-haired vampire in tow, holding him by the collar like a naughty schoolboy.

"Raphael..."

“So you still know my name. Ah…very good. Tell the wizard of yours that too. Hopefully he’s still looking for my crown?”

Aristen nodded: “We defeat the brain. The crown will then be at your disposal. That’s how it was settled.”

“Excuse me…” the vampire groused

The devil released Astarion, who grumbled and moved his shoulders.

“Stealing from a shop that has connections straight to hell, very very naughty.”

As was his style, Raphael moved his hands theatrically while his voice whispered mellifluously. The reprimand was more than just played as amusing.

“Anyway, you were there in vain. There is nothing to buy there that could solve the vampire's little “problem”. Otherwise they would all be walking around here freely in the sunlight. Or not?”

The devil made a sweeping gesture and looked around ostentatiously before laughing.

“I'll talk to Helsik and smooth things over, after all you don't sleep well in unmade beds like in clover. But tell your magician that it is my crown. When he finds it, he has agreed to hand it over to me immediately. Not to Mystra and he certainly shouldn’t get the foolish idea of ​​using it himself.”

“He is not my magician,” Aristen clarified briefly, “Gale belongs to no one but himself. Mystra also has nothing to command him.”

“Does he see it that way too? Or does he like to be walked on a leash? He always just does what others tell him. After all, his own decisions are the stupidest I've ever seen...and I've literally seen it all."

“You mean as stupid as wanting to rule the crown of Karsus?”

“Haha…careful, little mouse,” laughed Raphael. “Just make sure I get the crown as quickly as possible.”

“When Gale finds it, you get the crown. That was the deal. We stick to that. But you'll have to be patient. It wasn't intended that the crown and the stones would be lost again, but it was hard to prevent it when the Netherbrain fell into the sea during the fight."

“I'm surprised you're so relaxed about this. You can't put me on a leash as easily as you can put the vampire spawn on a leash. Or was it rather the other way around and you Astarion put the former Bhaalspawn on a docile short leash?”

Mischief sparkled in the brown eyes of the human-shaped Cambion. There was a subtle, biting, malicious provocation in his words, which he spoke with a sonorous purr, as always.

Astarion's face contorted a little and the vampire barely suppressed a roll of his ruby-colored eyes. For a moment he seemed like a disgruntled cat.

"I think I liked you better when you just rhymed all the time," Astarion replied sassy.

Raphael laughed briefly, unimpressed: “Whatever. Less dawdling and making long fingers, but more diving for the crown,” reprimanded the devil with a raised eyebrow.

The devil wrinkled his nose slightly at the vampire spawn before turning back to Aristen and giving her his full attention.

“By the way, greetings from your fiery friend Karlach and her rapier-wielding colleague Wyll Ravengard.”

“Why are you ordering greetings from Karlach and Wyll? Have you met them?”

“Well, those two made themselves quite a name all around Avernus,” Raphael smiled in his smug way, “furthermore, I greatly welcome their actions against Zariel’s forces.”

He made one of his swinging hand movements with his manicured fingers: “I would like to invite you all to my House of Hope to linger, relax and chat. So you can catch up. You know, the Crown of Karsus is the key that grants you access. And until that happens…fare thee well, little mouse. I hope I will see you soon, knocking on the door of my house.”

As was his style, Raphael bowed expansively and his scent of leather, cedar, lily, rose, oud, vanilla and sandalwood disappeared into a swirl of sparks and sulphur.

“He hasn’t forgotten his flair for great performances. I don't know whether I should admire it or whether he's starting to get on my nerves with it," Astarion sighed briefly before straightening his shoulders and straightening his doublet with a quick tug.

"Anyways..." the vampire turned to another topic, "...I think it would be a good idea if we get out of the immediate area while the city guards are wandering around here."

The elf touched Aristen's elbow to encourage her to leave.

“What did you want to take from the store anyway, in the first place?” Aristen wanted to know from Astarion, curious and skeptical.

“Well…” he started to press and scratched the back of his white curls, “…I saw something…”

"And what was so terribly interesting that you would risk to be arrested by the Flaming Fist?"

“Well...it reminded me of you...and...I thought you should have it. But Helsik is really a cutthroat bitch with exorbitant prices.”

Aristen smiled good-naturedly: “Oh Astarion…”

“However…here…”

The vampire held out a white silk scarf to the storm sorceress.

Aristen's eyes widened. You could see from the shimmer and the way the fabric fell that it wasn't just silk that was woven there. It was definitely the weave itself and more that was at work there. Depending on how it fell and how you moved it, a golden blue shimmered.

“The scarf reminded me of the one you told me about. You know, the scarf with your name on it that you were found wearing as a baby in the Bhaal Temple. It’s one of the few memories you have left.”

The vampire took out a borealis blue thread from his pocket and began to embroider “Aristen” into the scarf.

“I wanted you to have something that you could never lose, that could never be destroyed, that had your name on it. Because if something ever happened again that made you forget...that made you forget yourself, at least you would always have your name with you. Then you know that you are Aristen. Not the daughter of the murder god. Not the chosen one of Bhaal. No Bhaalspawn. Just you. You are Aristen.”

The vampire began to embroider an “&” sign into the scarf.

“And well…” Astarion began to shuffle uncomfortably again and focused entirely on his work so that he didn’t have to look his lover in the eyes, “…if you ever forget something again, then you’ll know that we belong together. I don't want you to ever forget me. And so you also always carry my name with you.”

The vampire finished his work and the white scarf now embroidered with new memories read: "Aristen & Astarion"

“There is nothing in the world that would ever make me forget you, Astarion,” the high elf spoke softly.

She closed the distance between the two of them and kissed Astarion. The elf slowly closed his eyes as their lips met. His cool, hers warm. He felt her breathing life into him as they kissed.

"Thank you so much," the blonde said after they pulled away from each other, "you can't imagine how much this means to me. I love you, Astarion."

Aristen held the silky, white and blue scarf in her hands, stroked the pale elf's blue embroidery and smiled. "I think this used to be the color of your eyes too."

She smiled softly, as soft as the silky fabric of the scarf felt on her soft hands. Hands too soft for the crimes they had probably committed earlier in the name of Bhaal. In a previous life.

Aristen raised her eyes, which were also blue, and caught Astarion by surprise. Speechless.

That rarely happened.

Very rarely did the vampire find himself without words.

“Ah, I…” he took a breath to say something, but he lacked a suitable response, so he could only hold his breath, taken aback.

The gentle look in his lover's eyes and her words had triggered something in Astarion that he still couldn't handle: affection, sincere love.

Towards him and in his own heart.

The white-haired vampire exhaled and smiled just as gently at his beloved Aristen.

He reached out his cool hand to her and placed it against her rosy cheek. The blonde nestled herself a little in the vampire's hand and her gaze lingered lovingly in Astarion's now ruby-colored eyes.

“You never stop surprising me,” his whispering voice sounded sincere and just as genuine was the smile he continued to give her.

It was a smile that acknowledged how happy he was, partly surprised, partly just realizing that he wasn't really surprised anymore. And perhaps that was what surprised Astarion the most.

It was a day like any other.

A day like any other.

One day in the rest of their life.

Their life together.

And it was beautiful.

And he would never want it any other way.

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

➹a/n: i just gave my own Tav Saulus a little cameo guest appearance  😉 in the style of AU I also inserted aristenfromwarsaws other OC Devana, like a little, what are all the other tavs doing when not being the main character

the great Tavs of my lovely mutuals also did a tiny cameo:

Nala Hartwick of @evander-jane

Thomas Rosewood and Nana of @alpydk

Lovely Vierith of @goromimii jamming with my Saulus, best bardic duo

Mavka of @pinkberrytea

I hope I did the slice of life good justice and you all could taste, feel, smell, hear the life through all the description of scents, etc.

[winola-heart]

The Win-Winverse Color Gang!

I just realized I never actually described how my interpretations of the Color Gang were like. I'll admit, I DID take a few liberties on some of them, but for the most part I tried to keep their initial personalities in tact. Well, here we are then.

and YES i gave them last names. Why? Why not

With that out of the way, let's get to these goobers shall we?

From left to right:

❤️ Red Akamatsu (They/Them): Seen as emotional by many, Red is highly affectionate towards any living thing they even so much as just say hi to. This is coupled with being the most energetic of the gang- the smallest thing excites them, and they're almost never seen staying still. They also like to pull mischief- you'd better keep alert lest they dupe you!

Their main flaw is acting before thinking. Their impulsiveness has gotten themself or others into trouble in some way or form. Not once do they stop to consider the dangers of what they might be doing- if it's there, and it presents itself as a problem, they're rushing into it headfirst to stop it. Common sense be damned.

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💚 Green Viridis (He/They): Ladies, gentlemen, everyone in between, meet Green! With a cool and nonchalant attitude, he goes about everything with boundless confidence. Always looking for an opportunity to impress anyone, they're talented and they WILL make it known. It's hard to miss him with his charisma, his skill, and his... big ego...

As you might guess, said ego can get the better of him. Arrogance is one of his weaknesses, and he often gets under others' skin this way. It's easy to do the same with him, though- mess with him enough and his confident attitude may break, but not after brushing it off and pretending it didn't happen. They didn't mess up. They never mess up!

- Blue's older cousin.

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💙 Blue Aoki (She/They): On a normal day, Blue prefers to go with the flow. She's easy to interact with, being laid back, calm, and polite to everyone she meets. They're what you'd call the "parent friend", assuring the wellbeing of the others and defusing personal conflict whenever they can. While she can be dense and dimwitted, that doesn't stop her from being kind.

They are genuinely nice and caring, but the other side of them is neurotic and full of worry. Scared of the bad things that could happen, she fears that misfortune could be around any corner. They will go to great lengths for people's safety- even at the cost of their own.

- Green's younger cousin.

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💛 Yellow Soleil (They/Them): There's so much things they want to do, many more on their mind, yet so little time! Passionate about the things they love, they will not hesitate to show that fact- whichever the topic may be, there's a chance they know at least three things related to it. They love coming up with new ideas, and while normally focused on work, they can loosen up and have fun, too.

When talking with people, Yellow has a tendency to be blunt with their words, and as such may accidentally come off rude or mean. They also don't have a good sense of foresight, as said bright ideas mentioned earlier can get the others into trouble... some way or another!

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🧡 Orange "The Second Coming" Tachibana (Any Prns): Reliable and headstrong, The Second Coming is a person one can lean on and trust to be there for them when needed. He is outgoing, full of tenacity, and fiercely loyal to the people he loves, willing to go through hell and back for them if it means they are safe. In terms of their friend group, he's the one with the most braincells.

She of course isn't without her flaws. They tend to have some snarker tendencies and have a habit of riffing on others, even during the best of times. On the other hand, when things are rough, they can become cold and snappy, taking on a no-nonsense attitude. You don't want to tick them off further when that happens...

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💜 Purple Murasaki (He/Xe): At first glance, Purple may appear awkward and secluded. His grasp on communicating with people isn't the best, and as a result he's quiet and shy upon meeting him. You wouldn't be blamed for thinking xe's one of these people who wants to keep to xemselves. And for the most part, he does.

However, get past this initial shyness and underneath the layers of standoffishness is a genuinely friendly individual. As it turns out, xe's actually quite nice and willing to interact- if with an air of awkwardness around xem. It's easy to leave him alone, but when you approach him directly to even just have a chat, he'll appreciate it. A lot.