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misshoneyimhome · 17 days ago

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What's up buttercups 💕

Lucky number thirteen is here—and it’s time for our Ice King, the Golden boy, to really prove what he's made of. If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to bring Auston Matthews home to meet your mother… well, this is my (very shameless) take on that fantasy 🙈 Not saying I’ve imagined this scene for years… but also, not not saying that 😉

As always, I hope you enjoy every messy, steamy, awkward moment. Happy reading, babes—and sending you all the love ❤️

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language, 18+ smut: semi-public dry-touching, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial/edging, slight sub/dom-act, fingering, unprotected vag sexual intercourse (no cum inside), oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing

Word count: 6.8k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three ; Chapter four ; Chapter five ; Chapter six ; Chapter seven ; Chapter eight ; Chapter nine; Chapter ten; Chapter eleven ; Chapter twelve

Some who might have interest: @hockeybabe87 @tonyspep @thesecretestblogever @delayed-delusions @kurlyteuvo

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Chapter thirteen - A king can move one space at the time…*

“Dearest Toronto Readers,

The game continues. Last night, the Queen did not surrender. She rose—flushed, glorious, and kissed by fire—and the King, ever unpredictable, played a move no one saw coming. But if chess has taught us anything, it’s this: each piece has a purpose. And some, when pushed to their limit, become more dangerous than ever.

So, what now?

They’ve shared the battlefield. They’ve blurred the lines. And if last night’s performance was any indication, the Ice King is no longer playing to protect the crown—he’s playing to win her.

And yet, every kingdom has its knights.

Did anyone even recognise Lorentz or Knies on the ice? Each move made by our Queen and King is being watched—studied—by the court they keep.

But at what cost?

We move one space at a time, dear readers. And sometimes, the most powerful move is the one you don’t see coming.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

—

You woke up alone.

The November rain was steady against the windows, soft and relentless, painting streaks across the glass like the sky couldn’t make up its mind about being gentle or cruel. The light was grey and muted, seeping into the room in thin, silvery layers. Almost romantic if it weren’t so dull. If your chest didn’t feel like it had been pinned in place by something, you couldn’t quite name.

Auston was gone.

The sheets were still tangled around your legs, warm from where your bodies had been. You shifted slightly, the dull ache between your thighs blooming back to life with the movement. It was the kind of soreness that lingered, clinging to your skin like memory—tender hips, stiff neck, the faintest tremble in your limbs that told the full story of how he’d handled you. The inside of your elbows bore light pressure marks—imprints of where he’d held you down. You didn’t mind.

There was no trace of sunlight—only the soft hum of rain and the distant creak of old pipes in the walls. But the scent still lingered, curling around you like a second duvet. Auston. That familiar blend of cedar, fresh air, and the heat of skin against skin. Faint traces of your perfume, too. And the salt-sweet aftermath of everything he’d done to you. With you.

Your hand reached blindly for the other side of the bed, finding nothing but cool fabric and the ghost of his weight in the mattress.

He hadn’t even asked to stay.

And you’d let him.

There had been no cuddling. No whispered promises or tangled limbs. Just his presence, steady and firm beside you until sometime in the early hours. You remembered waking once—briefly—to the sensation of his back to you, the soft sound of his breath steady and slow. He hadn’t touched you. Just existed beside you. And somehow… that had been enough.

But now? Now he was gone, and you were left with your thoughts and the echo of last night.

You reached for your phone, half-buried in the tangle of covers, your fingers fumbling over the charger cord. The screen lit up immediately, a single message waiting for you:

Auston: See you later, boss. Just tell me when and where.

You stared at it for a long moment, your lips twitching in a quiet, disbelieving smile. It was classic him—short, cocky, a little smug—but it landed like a stone in your chest. Not because it hurt. But because it felt… certain. Like a promise.

He was still in this.

Whatever this was.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, rereading it once. Twice. Then again, like the words might shift or reveal something deeper if you looked hard enough. But they didn’t change.

And yet, they grounded you.

You sank back against the pillows, head tipping to the side, breathing in the scent of him one more time. Your skin still tingled in places—especially the ones he’d marked with his mouth, his teeth, his hands.

Last night had cracked you open.

Not just physically—though that had certainly been part of it. But emotionally. Viscerally.

You hadn’t expected to want what he gave you. You didn’t think you’d enjoy being touched like that, commanded like that. But God, the way he had looked at you—like you were made to be ruined by him, the way he’d coaxed every cry and curse out of you like it was a melody he’d memorised—he made you melt.

And the worst part?

You wanted more.

You wanted him to push further. Take more. Say the things he said with that voice that went dark and low just before he lost control. You wanted to know what else he could unlock inside you.

You weren’t scared of it anymore. You were curious.

Your phone buzzed again—this time with a message from your mother—and the real world came crashing back like a wave.

Right. Tonight.

You swung your legs out of bed, feet touching the cool floor, and tried to find your centre. To stay in control. But the second your eyes caught the soft pink bruises at your inner thigh as you passed the mirror, your stomach fluttered again.

He hadn’t just fucked you. He’d changed something in you.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, tying your robe around your waist with a sharp tug. “No spiralling. Just… dinner.”

Dinner with your family.

Dinner with Auston.

The sheer absurdity of it made you want to laugh. Or hide. Or crawl back into bed and pretend you didn’t just spend the night giving Auston Matthews control of your body in ways you never thought possible.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

You headed to the shower. Let the steam clear your head or try to. You washed him off your skin but not from your thoughts.

And you tried—really, truly tried—not to overthink.

It wouldn’t be easy. Not for you. And certainly not for him.

Meeting your family never was.

You’d grown up in a house where expectations were tucked beneath the placemats and poured into the wine glasses. Where your mother loved you loudly but judged you louder. Where your siblings always knew the right thing to say, and you were still learning how to speak without apology.

So, bringing Auston into that? Even fake Auston?

It felt like standing in front of a firing squad.

You towelled off and stared into the mirror again, this time really looking. At your still-slightly-swollen lips. At the faint love bite near your collarbone. At your eyes—wide, uncertain, and yet… excited?

You sighed.

“Get it together,” you muttered, reaching for your moisturiser. “It’s just one dinner. With your fake boyfriend. Who gave you two or three orgasms last night. No big deal.”

Totally normal.

Completely fine.

You weren’t spiralling at all.

But the nervous flutter in your chest? It didn’t lie.

Something had changed. And tonight, you’d find out just how much.

Auston had gone home to walk Felix. He needed the fresh air—the quiet grounding of early morning rain against concrete, the leash loose in his hand, the familiar click of claws on pavement. But more than anything, he just needed to breathe.

Your apartment still clung to him. Your scent. Your skin. The sounds you made. The softness in your voice when you said his name like it meant something real.

He hadn’t meant to stay last night. He really hadn’t. But after everything—after the game, the hallway, the car park—walking away had felt impossible. So he hadn’t. He’d stayed. Watched the curve of your back rise and fall with each breath beside him, his own heart hammering beneath ribs that had never felt so breakable.

No cuddling. No tangled limbs or whispered promises. Just presence. And yet it had felt louder than anything else.

Auston adjusted his grip on the leash as Felix paused to sniff at a streetlamp, tail wagging.

He’d crossed boundaries with you. Pushed you to your limits. And he’d loved every second of it. The way you melted beneath him, the way you begged without shame, the way your body gave in and gave back like it had always belonged to him. He’d learned something about you last night. Something about himself, too.

And he wanted more.

Not just more of your body—though fuck, that haunted him—but more of you. The you who teased and challenged and met him toe to toe. The you who looked at him like he wasn’t just the Ice King, but a man worth melting for.

His phone buzzed. A message lit up from a number he sort of recognised - Brunette #4 (or maybe it was #3, he didn’t really know):

“Hope you’ll be happy with her. Jk. You’re a dick. Hate u!”

Auston snorted under his breath. Swiped it away without replying. He didn’t care. Not anymore. Not about girls who knew his schedule better than they knew his laugh. Not about pretty distractions with perfect lips and no substance.

He pulled up your last message instead.

You: Dinner’s at 6. I’ll send the address. Be on time.

He smirked. His thumb hovered briefly before he typed:

Auston: Yes boss. I’ll be there. Game face on.

Back at your place, your nerves were fraying at the edges like the hem of a dress you hadn’t had time to mend. You sat cross-legged in front of your vanity, trying not to look like you were about to implode, while Jess hovered behind you like a glam squad with a grudge.

“Jess,” you snapped, batting her hand away as she reached for your face again, “if you touch my eyebrows one more time—”

“Oh my god, calm down,” Jess groaned, rolling her eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. “I’m not carving them off with a butter knife. I’m literally brushing them. You act like I’m trying to steal your identity.”

“I’m meeting my mum,” you hissed, eyes wide in the mirror. “With Auston. For dinner. Do you have any idea how deeply not okay I am?”

Jess’s face softened, just slightly. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair. But, babe—look at you. You’re gorgeous. Like scary, don’t-make-eye-contact-on-the-subway gorgeous. She’s gonna take one look at you two and assume he’s already picked out a ring.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to show how those words made your stomach twist. “Sure. Because nothing screams eternal love like emotionally repressed NHL captains and dinner with overbearing mothers.”

Jess gave you a look. “You joke, but seriously? What you said he said last night? To that girl - If that’s not real, then I need to see my therapist again.”

You froze. Just a little. Just enough for her to notice.

She plopped down beside you on the bed, lipstick in hand, legs crossed like she had all the time in the world. “Like, do we need to start brainstorming engagement hashtags? Because #MapleMatrimony kinda slaps.”

You laughed—too loud, too sharp. “Please stop. I can’t breathe in this blouse, let alone process a fictional wedding.”

Jess just grinned, unbothered. “I’m only half-joking. He looks at you like he’d move mountains. Or at least miss a morning skate, which for him? Basically the same thing.”

You didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, you focused on your eyeliner, smudging it just enough to look like you weren’t trying too hard. “He’s just good at playing the part,” you said, voice breezy. “We’ve had to… navigate a lot lately.”

Jess leaned in, peering at you. “Yeah, and most guys don’t navigate their way into your bed and your family dinner in the same weekend. Just saying.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and whacked her with it. She yelped, laughing.

“Okay, okay!” she said through giggles. “Fine, I’ll shut up. But I’m not blind, and neither is your mum. And I swear, if he pulls the whole ‘let me help with the dishes’ move after dinner? I’m starting a Pinterest board.”

You shook your head, but the smile tugging at your lips was reluctant. “You’re impossible.”

Jess shrugged. “And you’re in denial.”

There was a pause. Then, casually, she added, “Oh—and guess who asked about you again?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Ryan,” she sing-songed. “Mr. ‘Just One Date’ is now Mr. ‘Persistent Since Wednesday.’ He’s clearly not over it.”

You groaned, tossing the pillow at her again. “Don’t start.”

Jess caught it this time. “What? You’ve got options, babe. Even if one of them is currently playing doting boyfriend and giving your mum grandkid fever.”

You stared down at your phone. Fingers hovering. Thinking.

“I should text him what wine she likes,” you muttered.

Jess grinned, satisfied. “Oh yeah. Nothing to see here at all.”

You didn’t respond.

Because the truth? You weren’t sure where the performance ended anymore either.

“Our Queen has left the palace gates. Destination? Home turf. But family dinners are rarely just that, especially when love—or the illusion of it—is on the menu.

Tonight, the Ice King faces a far more dangerous opponent than any rival team: the Queen’s mother. A woman known to wield passive-aggression with the skill of a seasoned general. And while our King might be fluent in post-game interviews and press charm, is he ready for the battlefield of Sunday roasts and sibling shade?

One wrong answer and the royal illusion could come crashing down. - The Benchwarmer”

The drive to your mother’s house—just over an hour outside of Toronto—felt longer than usual, even with the November dusk softening the edges of the highway in moody streaks of grey and fading gold. The rain had stopped earlier, but the clouds still hung low, like they were waiting for an excuse to open up again.

Auston was behind the wheel, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other lazily tapping against the gearshift to the rhythm of a song you barely heard. He looked frustratingly relaxed, like he was driving to a pre-game skate and not straight into the lion’s den of your family dinner.

You, on the other hand, were wound so tight your fingers had gone numb from fidgeting with the seam of your skirt.

It wasn’t Auston you were nervous about.

It was everything else.

Your mother wasn’t cruel. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t throw tantrums or make scenes. But she could disarm a person with a single look, a question phrased too politely to be anything but loaded. Her wine glass was her weapon, her smile the misdirection. And Auston—cocky, confident Auston—wouldn’t see it coming until he was already bleeding out on the dining room floor.

You could practically hear her now:

“And what exactly is your long-term plan?” “Do you think professional hockey is a real career?” “What does a man with no stability offer my daughter?”

All delivered with silk-gloved precision while she passed the roasted vegetables and offered seconds like it was all completely civil.

Your older brothers weren’t much better. Two walking LinkedIn profiles with perfectly pressed collars and curated families, ready to pounce under the guise of protectiveness. They’d test Auston’s patience, push his buttons, try to make him squirm just enough to feel like they’d done their big-brotherly duty.

And the twins? Seventeen and already halfway viral on TikTok. They’d either flirt shamelessly or roast him within an inch of his life—maybe both. If they weren’t already drafting a group chat called Matthews Watch 2025, you’d be shocked.

You exhaled sharply and glanced over.

Auston was focused on the road, one hand casually adjusting the volume. His jaw was relaxed, his leg bouncing lightly to the beat. If he was nervous, he sure as hell didn’t show it.

“You good?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended.

He glanced your way and smirked. “Game face on.”

You let out a humourless laugh, nerves bubbling just beneath the surface. “This isn’t a game.”

Auston shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Isn’t it?”

You didn’t respond. You just turned your face back toward the window, watching as the city slipped away behind you and suburbia crept closer with every mile. Your heart pounded louder than the bass in the car, every street sign a countdown.

Tonight, you weren’t just pretending to be Auston’s girlfriend.

You were pretending that you could handle the weight of all this. The chaos. The closeness. The quiet questions clawing their way up your throat.

Because deep down, you weren’t sure if this was still about pretending anymore.

You pulled into the driveway a few minutes before six. The sun was already beginning to dip behind the neighbour’s maple trees, casting long shadows across the familiar brick path that led to the front door. Auston shifted beside you in the driver's seat, gaze fixed on the modest two-storey house that had been home for most of your life. It wasn’t extravagant, not like some of the places he knew, but it was warm, lived-in—paint slightly chipped around the doorframe, wind chimes clinking lazily near the porch light.

“This it?” he asked, a touch of amusement in his voice.

“This is it,” you replied, inhaling deeply. “The arena of maternal judgment.”

He smirked, one brow rising. “Can’t wait.”

Inside, it was everything you remembered—faintly scented with lemon polish and lavender, the hum of an old dishwasher in the background, the faint creak of floorboards under soft slippers. Your mother appeared in the hallway almost instantly, all smiles and carefully curated cheer.

“Auston, welcome,” she said with a tone that could only be described as formal hospitality laced with subtle suspicion. She extended her hand—her grip was firm, brief.

“Thank you, Mrs—”

“Oh, none of that. Call me Janice,” she interrupted. “We’re not so formal here.”

You exchanged a look with Auston. Oh yes, she was in performance mode.

The introductions followed in rapid succession. Your eldest brother, Daniel, shook Auston’s hand with a nod that barely concealed his “I’m watching you” energy. His wife, Samira, was sweet, if a little wide-eyed. Your second brother, Thomas, had his baby on one hip and didn’t even try to hide his smirk as he muttered, “So this is the guy,” before disappearing into the living room.

The twins—Chloe and Claire—barely looked up from their phones, though Chloe offered a distracted, “We’ve seen you on TikTok,” and Claire added with a smirk, “We liked you better without the moustache. Makes you look like a creep.”

Auston took it all in stride, unbothered and smiling just enough. He gave each person just the right amount of charm, nodded at the right moments, and even asked about the dog that no longer lived there.

Your mother ushered you both down the hallway like a tour guide, pointing out where the new wallpaper had gone up, how the fireplace had finally been repaired. And then, just before dinner, she opened the door to your old bedroom.

“This used to be hers,” she said with a fond glance at you. “Now it’s where the kids keep all their toys. Can’t let any space go to waste.”

You blinked at the bright foam alphabet tiles covering your once carefully curated posters and polaroids. Auston stepped inside, smiling faintly at the worn-out Beatrix Potter books and abandoned LEGO sets.

“So this is where the magic happened?” he teased under his breath, glancing at you.

“Don’t,” you warned, shooting him a look—but your lips twitched.

Your mother appeared behind you with a perfectly timed glass of white wine. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said. “Now don’t drink it all at once.”

You accepted the glass gratefully, only for her to add with a slightly raised brow, “Though I do hope it’s not a nightly habit now that you’re dating a professional athlete.”

You didn’t answer. Just took a very long sip.

Auston bit back a grin.

Game on.

Dinner had started surprisingly well. Your brothers, of course, couldn’t resist giving Auston a hard time—sarcastic questions about his “hobby” turned career, jabs about his skating, jokes about his salary. But Auston, to your complete lack of surprise, took it all in stride. He handled them with the same cool detachment he gave reporters in scrums—smiling when appropriate, firing off one-liners that made even your stiffest sibling crack a grin.

And somehow, you were right there with him.

Trading barbs. Meeting teasing with sass. You weren’t just surviving the family dinner—tonight, you were thriving in it. For once, you felt calm, composed. Powerful, even. Like something about Auston’s presence grounded you, amplified you.

Or maybe it was the wine.

Or the fact that you still hadn’t fully shaken the memory of him last night—his mouth, his hands, the way he’d made you feel like the only woman in the world.

Your skin buzzed with that memory as you passed the potatoes and laughed at something Thomas said. But then—then—you felt it.

Auston’s hand.

Low and steady, it landed gently on your thigh beneath the table. His pinky brushed against the hem of your skirt. Innocent enough. Until it wasn’t.

His fingertips dragged upward, slow and deliberate, until they slipped under the fabric entirely. He didn’t go far—just grazed the edge of your inner thigh, barely there, before retreating and starting again. Lazy circles. Featherlight teasing.

Your fork paused mid-air. You didn’t even blink.

You pressed your legs together instinctively, but it only made it worse. Or better. You weren’t sure.

So you retaliated.

You mimicked his motions, letting your hand drop onto his knee under the table, soft and casual. His thigh was warm beneath your touch. Solid. You traced light patterns there, fingertips dancing higher and higher, until you reached the seam of his trousers. You gave the inside of his leg a slight squeeze.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t miss a beat as he answered Daniel’s question about locker room politics.

But you caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth. The tight clench of his jaw.

Oh, so this was how he wanted to play it.

His hand moved again, bolder this time, sliding further up your thigh. Your breath hitched when his fingers pressed against the heat between your legs—just for a second. Just enough to remind you that he could ruin you with a single move. Then he pulled back like nothing had happened.

“Tell me, Auston,” your mother chimed in from across the table, setting her wine glass down with a faint clink. “Do you ever think about what comes after hockey? I mean, it’s not exactly… a sustainable lifestyle, is it?”

You rolled your eyes. Here we go.

Auston didn’t even blink. “That’s fair. I’ve started thinking about long-term investments, actually. Property. Some charity initiatives, too.”

“Oh?” your mother pressed, eyebrows raised. “And how do you plan to balance that with… family?”

And that’s when you did it.

Your palm slid slowly over his crotch under the table. He was slowly hardening beneath your touch.

You kept your expression neutral as you sipped your wine.

Auston coughed once. Covered it as a laugh. “I guess it comes down to good support systems. And priorities.”

You watched your mother nod, unimpressed. Your brothers had already lost interest and launched into some story about a neighbour’s divorce.

You turned toward Auston slightly, lips barely parted, voice just low enough to vibrate beneath the buzz of conversation. “You’re doing great.”

His eyes slid to yours. Dangerous. Hungry.

“You’re playing with fire, boss,” he murmured, leaning in like he was adjusting his chair. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

You smiled sweetly, brushing your hand just a little firmer across him, enough to draw a subtle breath from his lips.

“Maybe I want to finish it,” you whispered back. Then, after a pause, “Maybe I want to finish you… with my mouth.”

He exhaled slowly. Closed his eyes for half a second.

You felt him swell fully against your hand. Felt the tension in his thigh. The deliberate stillness in his posture.

And you—well, you sat there like nothing was happening at all.

Just a woman. At dinner. With her mother and siblings.

And the man whose self-control you were absolutely annihilating under a perfectly ironed tablecloth.

The opportunity came when your eldest brother launched into his third monologue of the evening—something about a new executive title, a cross-border investment, or his firm’s sixth-figure quarterly bonus. You didn’t really catch the details. You just saw Auston’s gaze flick to yours, jaw tight, pulse visible in his neck, and you knew. It was time.

You leaned toward your mother with a polite excuse, murmuring something about needing the bathroom. And Auston followed less than a minute later, slipping away while the table erupted into a discussion about mortgage rates.

The hallway was narrow. Quiet. You led him toward the guest bathroom at the back of the house—furthest from the dining room, furthest from voices. And you barely managed to click the door shut before Auston’s mouth crashed into yours.

It was heat. Desperation. Tongues tangled. Teeth clashed. His hands found your hips and pushed you against the wall with a groan that vibrated through your spine.

“You think you can get away with that?” he rasped against your mouth. “Touching me like that while your mum talked about fatherhood?”

You didn’t answer. You just dropped to your knees instead.

And oh, the look on his face—shock melting into pure, ravenous hunger—burned itself into your memory.

You reached for his belt with shaking hands, unfastening it with a confidence you rarely felt. The second you freed him from the constraints of his trousers, he was already hard—So thick, flushed, desperate, it made your mouth water.

You wanted to taste him so badly. To show him you could unravel him just like he could you.

You took him in, slow at first, your lips wrapped around the head, tongue swirling in a soft, maddening tease. His groan cracked in his throat. One hand slapped to the door behind you. The other found your hair, fingers tightening just enough to remind you he wasn’t in the mood for slow and sweet.

You stroked him with one hand while your mouth worked the rest—hollowing your cheeks, flattening your tongue, bobbing your head in an unrelenting rhythm that had his knees locking.

“Fuck—” he hissed, biting down on the inside of his fist.

You glanced up at him through your lashes. He was flushed, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as he stared down at you with something that looked dangerously close to reverence.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

But you did. For just a second. Just to drag your tongue along the underside of his cock and blow softly against the tip. The way he twitched in your hand made you smirk.

He groaned—louder this time—and you had to reach up with your free hand, press a finger to his lips.

“Shhh,” you whispered, licking a drop of precome off your bottom lip. “You want your ‘future mother-in-law’ to hear?”

“Jesus,” he growled, his hips bucking forward.

You took him deeper this time. All the way down. Gagged around him. Drooled messily down your chin as your throat tightened and your fingers dug into the meat of his thighs.

Auston’s head tipped back. His fingers fisted in your hair, dragging you closer, harder, until you could barely breathe. You didn’t care. You wanted to ruin him. You wanted him undone and breathless and at your mercy.

He was close. You could feel it in the tremble of his thighs. The twitch of his cock against your tongue. The broken sounds falling from his lips.

And then—

“Dessert, anyone?” your mother’s voice called out faintly from the kitchen.

You froze.

Auston’s breath hitched.

And then you pulled back. Slowly and gently. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“What the fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth. His hand was still braced against the door. His cock, swollen and red, was still slick with your spit. His jaw was clenched like he could crack a tooth.

You stood, adjusted your skirt with a wicked smirk, and leaned in close to whisper against his jaw, ”what? Dessert’s ready.”

And just like that you left him to himself. Hard and needy. Completely blue balled.

You walked back into the dining room like you hadn’t just left Auston Matthews on the verge of orgasm in your childhood bathroom. Sat back in your chair, reached for your wine, and smiled at your sisters like nothing had happened at all.

But Auston?

He sat beside you moments later, composed only in appearance. His eyes were dark. His body was still wound tight with frustration. And you could feel the fury in the way he leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he murmured.

You sipped your wine. “Promises, promises.”

His hand slid beneath the table again, but this time it wasn’t playful.

It was a warning.

The silence in the car was thick.

Not the kind that begged to be broken, but the kind that said more than any words could. Auston hadn’t spoken since the moment your mother waved goodbye from the porch, a slice of pie in one hand and suspicion still stitched into her parting smile. You hadn’t expected warmth from her—not really—but the tension she brought to the table had taken its toll.

Still, it hadn’t been your mother’s scrutiny that turned Auston cold. You knew exactly what it was. The tease. The touch. The look on his face when your mother had called from the kitchen just before he could unravel completely in your mouth.

He was furious. You could feel it in every rigid turn of the steering wheel, every calculated blink in your direction that never quite landed. And you… well, you couldn’t decide if you were sorry or smug.

The highway stretched out in a blur of taillights and twilight. You sat with your hands folded neatly in your lap, trying not to squirm under the weight of his silence. Until, without warning, Auston took a sharp exit—one you didn’t recognise.

“Aus?” you said, voice hesitant.

He didn’t answer. Just kept driving—off the main road, down a gravel path that led to nowhere in particular. Trees lined the edge of the clearing, the sky above now dipped in deep navy, only the dashboard casting a faint glow between you.

The car slowed to a stop, and you turned to him, your heart already in your throat. “Where are we—?”

“I’m not done with you,” he said.

His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous in the way it coiled around your spine.

“I had to sit through dinner with your entire family,” he continued, still not looking at you. “Had to smile while your mum called me irresponsible, while your brothers grilled me about my future, and your sisters tried to trip me up with questions like it was a game.”

You swallowed hard. “You handled it like a pro.”

His jaw ticked. “I always do.”

And then he turned to you, finally—his gaze like a live wire sparking against your skin.

“But what I can’t handle,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “is being left hanging with a hard-on the size of my ego and a mother asking me if I want whipped cream on my pie.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed.

His hand was on your jaw in an instant. Firm. Possessive. “You think that’s funny?”

“No,” you whispered, biting your lip.

“Because you’ve been playing games all night, boss. But I don’t think you really understand what it means to play with fire.”

You didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Until he said, “Back seat. Now.”

And something inside you snapped like a live wire—sharp, electric, alive. Not fear. Not hesitation. Just… heat. Thrumming low in your belly, rising like a tide you had no desire to stop.

Because the version of you that might’ve once laughed nervously, who would’ve deflected or joked her way out of something this intense? She was gone. Left behind somewhere between last night’s hallway, this morning’s sheets, and the exact moment Auston’s fingers slid up your thigh under your mother’s dinner table. In her place was someone braver. Bolder. Someone who wanted to see what happened when you let yourself burn.

You climbed over the centre console without a word, heart hammering, breath shallow. The seat was cool against the backs of your thighs, the leather creaking softly as you adjusted yourself, skirt riding high. Your legs spread, just slightly, as if inviting him. Daring him.

The passenger door clicked shut behind him, followed by the low sound of the lock sliding into place.

And then he was on you.

No warning. No sweet nothings. Just heat and hands and hunger.

Auston’s body crowded you instantly, the weight of him pressing you into the leather as if he needed to stake a claim. His mouth brushed the line of your jaw, not quite a kiss—more a threat, soft and searing. One hand palmed your hip, dragging your skirt higher until the cool air kissed the backs of your thighs. The other pressed to the seat beside your head, anchoring him above you, his breath skating across your lips.

“You don’t get to start something like that,” he growled, low and sharp, “and not finish it.”

You met his eyes—dark, wild, furious with want—and whispered, “Then finish it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His mouth crashed to yours, and it wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t soft. It was possession, full and messy and open-mouthed, the kind of kiss that swallowed sound and left nothing untouched. His tongue slid against yours with practiced intent, tasting you, claiming you.

Auston didn’t undress you, not fully. He didn’t need to. His fingers worked with fast, controlled precision—skirt pushed up, blouse tugged open at the buttons, bra shifted just enough for him to palm your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple like it was instinct.

You gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound.

Every move he made was calculated. Every shift of his hips, every scrape of his fingers—deliberate and punishing. He had something to prove, and your body was the battleground.

You barely noticed your legs spreading wider to accommodate the press of his knee. All you could focus on was the press of his fingers between your thighs, dragging through your folds like he already knew exactly how wet you were. How ready. And he groaned when he found you—low and primal, the kind of sound that made your spine arch and your hands fist in his jacket.

He teased you first, because of course he did. Auston was many things, but merciful was not one of them—not when you’d left him hard and needy and furious in your mother’s bathroom.

His fingers slid through you with maddening control. Circles. Pressure. Just enough to make your hips lift off the seat. Just enough to make your lips part around a silent plea.

“Already soaked,” he murmured against your throat, voice thick. “Knew you’d be like this.”

You whimpered. He chuckled, dark and dangerous, before slipping two fingers inside you, curling them just right—making your eyes slam shut and your walls clench.

“You gonna beg now, boss?” he whispered, dragging his mouth to your collarbone. “Or you still think you’re in charge?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your mouth had gone slack, your body arching into his like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. And when he pulled his fingers away—leaving you empty, aching—you almost sobbed.

He made you wait. Just long enough to drive you mad.

And then, finally, he undid his trousers with one hand, shoved them low enough to free himself, and lined up without ceremony—just the heat of him pressing at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your folds like a warning.

When he finally thrust inside, it was with one, deep, devastating stroke.

You cried out—high and sharp, the sound muffled by the crook of his shoulder as your body split around him.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t soft.

It was punishment. And it was perfect.

His pace was relentless. The windows fogged instantly, your moans caught in the thick, humid air, your fingers scrabbling against the car door, the seatbelt strap, his shoulders—anything to ground yourself. But he didn’t give you a moment to adjust. He just took. Again and again, until your mind blurred and your muscles locked and you couldn’t remember a world that didn’t have him inside you.

“You like pushing me?” he rasped, snapping his hips forward so hard your breath caught. “This what you wanted?”

You could barely nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

But he felt it. The way your body clenched around him, the way your legs wrapped tighter, your cries becoming desperate now.

And he rewarded you.

One hand snaked between you, pressing to your clit with just the right pressure, and your vision went white.

You came with a shudder, his name falling from your lips like a prayer and a curse all at once. But Auston didn’t stop. Not until your orgasm had rippled through every inch of your body. Not until you sagged beneath him, boneless and shaking.

Only then did he pull out.

And the way he looked at you—hair a mess, sweat at his temples, eyes blown wide with control and something almost… tender?

That was almost more intimate than anything else.

Almost.

Because he wasn’t done.

Not yet.

You were breathless, dazed, legs still wrapped loosely around his hips when he sat back, dragging a hand through his damp hair.

“Not done,” he said simply.

You blinked up at him. “What?”

He reached down, tugging gently at your chin until you were sitting upright, your body still humming. His other hand slipped into your hair.

“On your knees,” he murmured. “And finish what you started.”

And so, you did.

With no hesitation. No shame. Just pure lust.

You took him into your mouth slowly, deliberately, eyes locked with his as you teased the sensitive tip with your tongue. The moment he moaned—low and broken, fingers tangling in your hair—you gave him more. Let him feel the shift from control to surrender, inch by inch, until there was nothing left between you but want.

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, drool dripping and your lips slick with spit, your jaw aching from the stretch. But you didn’t stop. You focused—breathing through your nose, relaxing your throat, working him with every ounce of skill you had.

And the sounds he made—deep, raw, shameless—only spurred you on. Each moan felt like a reward. Each choked whisper of your name a spark down your spine. You’d never known giving pleasure could feel like this. Like power. Like intimacy.

His thighs trembled beneath your hands, his body tightening as he fought the losing battle for composure. His grip in your hair was desperate.

And when he finally came, it was with your name torn from his lips and a full-body shudder that seemed to ripple all the way through his chest.

“Fuuuck….”

Then silence returned, but it felt different now. Calmer and sated.

And slowly, Auston tucked himself back into his jeans and reached for your hand. “Back up front,” he said softly, a touch of humour finally returning to his voice. “Before we both end up sleeping in the parking lot.”

You couldn't help but laugh, breathless. “Not the worst night I’ve ever had.”

He smirked. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Dearest Toronto Readers,

There are games, and then there are matches. And make no mistake—what we witnessed tonight was no mere exhibition. It was war. It was seduction. It was strategy wrapped in silk sheets and served with a side of family dysfunction.

The Queen has led the King into her past—into the trenches of old bedrooms, relentless siblings, and mothers who wield judgement sharper than any hockey blade. But it was he who took the upper hand, responding not with charm alone, but with heat, with control, with a level of desire that could scorch through even the most carefully built walls.

And the Queen? She did not falter. She flirted with fire, then begged to be burned.

But readers… beware. Because the Ice King is melting, and if we’ve learned anything from the great chess masters of history, it’s this: when the most reserved piece begins to feel, the board is never the same.

One space at a time, remember?

But after tonight, we wonder—who’s really making the moves?

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

#The Benchwarmer #inexperienced!reader x Auston #auston matthews fanfic #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance #nhl imagines

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therealcocoshady · 9 months ago

Text

Football season - Commission

Author’s Note : Hi guys ! It’s been a while since I last posted something 😉. It is my great pleasure to share this little one shot that was commissioned to me on my Ko-Fi page 💕. I still take requests via Asks but Ko-Fi commissions are prioritized 😉.

Also, thank you to anyone who tips & commissions. It means a lot to a struggling PhD student 💕.

Enjoy !

Football season had officially started and to say you were disappointed was an understatement. You thought you’d enjoy watching games with Marshall in the comfort of your living room, resting on his lap and cuddle with him, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. There was nothing cute or romantic. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It involved grown men yelling in your living room, screaming at the players on TV, spilling food everywhere. You could have turned a blind eye if Marshall had made any effort to make it up to you but… no. Your weekly date night had been replaced by football night and, though at first you had decided to make peace with it, you were fed up. He could have included you in this whole thing but the only time you had tried to watch the game with him and his friends, you had made the cardinal mistake of asking some clarification about the rules, only to be shushed by your man. So, whenever the guys came over (which means whenever they were not actually at the stadium), you retreated to another room after greeting them. You still tried to make an effort and ask Marshall how it went whenever he went to find you after the game, but you weren’t really interested. You had gone a whole six weeks without going on a single date and you felt neglected. Maybe you should have expected this. Maybe being taken for granted happens after moving in together with the man you love. Maybe every woman in America has to put up with something similar. Except you weren’t every woman in America. You were the one and only woman who managed to capture the heart of Marshall Mathers, who already had to put up with a lot, and who deserved a whole lot better than this. You knew your worth and, if Marshall needed to be reminded of who he was living with, you would happily do it.

- Hey pretty girl, he said lovingly as you walked down the stairs in one of your prettiest dresses that you knew he loved. Where are you going dressed like this ?

- On a date, you said casually as you pecked his cheek. Have fun with the guys today.

- Date ? What date ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- The one my boyfriend will not take me on, you shrugged.

With these words, you left the room before he could even reply. If he didn’t want to take you out, fine. You were a grown woman and you were determined to give yourself what you deserved. In this case, a nice meal in your favorite fancy restaurant, some retail therapy and even a spa session. You were worth it. Sure, not everyone in your household seemed to know it, but you absolutely refused to let it undermine you. So you had the loveliest day by yourself, enjoying the absence of grown men yelling at some football players, as if they could do better on the field. The people you saw at the restaurant were dressed normally and you didn’t have to do put up with corny football apparel. And as you tried on dresses in your favorite store, you purposefully avoided the one in a shade of blue that reminded you of the Detroit Lions logo. You ended up treating yourself to a new dress, a cute lingerie set and a new handbag you’d been eyeing for a while. You ended the day with a trip to your favorite spa where you got a massage. Your whole « date with yourself » was insanely relaxing, and all frustration was gone when you walked back in the house, carrying your bags. As soon as you opened the door, Marshall came to greet you and took the bags from your hands so that you wouldn’t have to carry them. The whole house was clean and calm. A far cry from the usual mess on game night, when his friends would often stay late.

- Where’s everyone ? You asked.

- Sent them home after the game, he said with a smile.

- Did the team lose ?

- Nope, he replied. We won. But I figured we could use a night just the two of us. So that I can make it up to you for being a bad boyfriend.

You cupped his cheek and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

- It’s fine, you shrugged.

- It’s not, he said. I don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted. I got a little carried away with football and I know it’s on me for missing date night but… I miss you, babe.

- I miss you too, you cooed as he pulled you in a hug.

- How was your date with yourself ? He asked. Did you have a good time ?

- I did, you said with a smile. Did some shopping, went to a nice restaurant and even got a massage. I’m good company.

- This, I know, he chuckled.

- The date was so good I’d deserve to seal the deal, you grinned.

- Oh really ? He asked with a smirk.

- Yes, you hummed. Definitely taking myself to bed and getting some.

- Any way I can get an invite ? He asked lovingly as he cupped your ass.

- Do you think you deserve one ? You giggled.

He smiled and kissed you before leading you to the living room. A huge bouquet of your favorite flowers was standing on the coffee table, and he had prepared a small set up with your favorite snacks and drinks in front of the TV, complete with some cute candles.

- I though we could have a little date night, he suggested. Unless you-

- It’s just perfect, you cooed.

- How about your show me what you bought, doll ? He suggested.

You grabbed the bags and showed him your purchases. You ended up trying on the dress for him and showing him the bag.

- What’s in that box ? He asked as he pointed to the only thing you hadn’t shown him yet.

- Lingerie, you hummed.

- Don’t you want to show me ? He asked innocently.

- Not sure you deserve it just yet, you grinned.

He chuckled and you could see in his eyes that he relished the challenge. He was the most competitive person you knew. You should have known he’d take it this way. Still, you made sure to playfully roll your eyes. The two of you ended up lounging on the couch, watching a movie. Marshall even let you choose, and you happily put on a crappy chick flick, your guilty pleasure. You were cuddling, curled up on his side while he played with the hem of your new dress, not really paying attention to the movie.

- You’re so pretty, he whispered. I’m the luckiest man on earth.

- Glad you finally recognize it, you grinned.

- I love the guys but, frankly, game night doesn’t compare to this, he continued as he buried his face in your neck before placing a kiss there.

You let out a soft giggle and enjoyed the warmth of his embrace while you focused on the movie. With each passing minute, he held you a little closer and, eventually, you ended up on his lap, munching on popcorn while he stroked your thigh, his fingers going higher and higher as time went on.

- Marshall, you lightly scolded.

- But you’re so pretty, he whispered. And your skin is so soft.

- I blame the body oil they used for the message, you hummed.

- I could have given you a massage if you’d asked, he grinned.

- Right, you chortled.

- Don’t believe me ? He asked.

- You would have taken advantage, you hummed. Can’t keep your hands to yourself.

- How can I be expected to, when you’re so beautiful ? He asked before mouthing at your neck from behind.

You let out a sight of satisfaction and you could feel smile against your skin. How could you be expected to stay mad at him when he was being so adorable ? He kept on stroking your thigh, while one of his hand gently cupped your boob, thumb grazing over your nipple. You let out a small moan, unable to hide your pleasure.

- How could I neglect you like this, love ? He whispered. Gotta make it up to you, yeah ?

- Yeah, you said breathily.

His hand that was on your thigh traveled higher to go and cup your pussy over the lace of your panties, as he kept on fondling your boob.

- Marsh-… th-the movie, you said unconvincingly.

- Keep watching, babe, I got you, he said seductively.

Before you could say anything, he got up and let you settle in the couch, before kneeling between your legs and removing your panties.

- Let me make it up to you, he pleaded.

You nodded and he bunched your dress up to your waist, getting a better access to your pussy that was already throbbing with anticipation. Without a second of hesitation, he buried his face between your legs and began eating you out, gently exploring your folds with his tongue. You were so comfortable, resting against the couch pillows, your head against the headrest, all you had to do was to enjoy the moment and, boy, did he make it enjoyable. He took his sweet time, as if he was enjoying a gourmet meal, softly teasing your clit. His hands were on your thighs, keeping them apart, fingers gently digging into your skin. You watched him from above, enjoying how focused he was, eyes closed, dedicating himself to it, to you. You ran your hand in his hair, prompting him to keep going, which he happily did. His tongue was soft against your bud, sending shivers in your whole body. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the heavenly sensation of your man pleasuring you.

- I love you, you whimpered.

He hummed, sending vibrations against your pussy, making you moan. You could feel your own wetness, only increased by his saliva. He gently inserted a finger in you and you almost felt relieved. You abandoned yourself to the sweet sensation and, soon enough, upon seeing how wet you were, he added another one, gently curling them so that they’d hit that sweet spot that made you see stars. You couldn’t hold your mewls, the combination of him sucking on your clit and fingering you at the same time making you feel ecstatic. You tightened the grip on his head, unconsciously praying he wouldn’t stop, and this prompted him to quicken the pace of his fingers. You could feel your toes curl and pleasure tickle your body as your breathing accelerated, your climax being near. Your heard yourself beg for relief and Marshall happily obliged, making you cry tears of euphoria. You could feel him smile against your pussy and he placed a kiss on your inner thigh before getting up and kissing you. You were all zoned out, the couch having turned into a cloud. He chuckled as soon as he saw your face and he gently cupped your cheek, admiring the glow the orgasm gave you.

- I’m so in love with you, he said.

- I love you, you cooed. Do you want me to-

- I’m good, love, he replied with a smile. It’s all about you.

You hummed before shivering a bit, making him chuckle. He always made fun of how you were always cold after having an orgasm. He grabbed one of his hoodies that was nearby and handed it to you. You kissed him lovingly as a thank you and decided to go change, putting a PJ short, a tank top and his hoodie. When you got back to the living room, he gestured for you to sit in his lap and you cuddled while watching what was left of the movie. Evidently, you hadn’t paid a lot of attention to what was on screen. You tried to catch up, enjoying Marshall’s arms around you. There was what you missed about date night : time set aside just for the two of you, his warm presence and his intoxicating cologne. You didn’t need much. When the movie ended, he led you to the bedroom and you laid in bed while he undressed, only keeping his boxers on. You couldn’t help but stare as he removed his tee-shirt, revealing his perfect chest, toned abs and muscular pecs. You’d been together for a while but every single time you saw this man undress, you found yourself to be under his spell.

- Your parents never told you you shouldn’t stare ? He grinned.

- I wouldn’t stare if the view wasn’t worthy, you said innocently.

- You say it as if you weren’t a fucking art piece yourself, he scoffed.

- Right, you chortled.

- I mean it, he replied with a smile as he joined you in bed and pulled you to him. You are stunning. I love you in my hoodies.

- I do love wearing them, you admitted.

He smiled and kissed your temple before turning the lights off and pulling you to him once again, absolutely refusing for there to be any distance between your bodies.

- Thanks for tonight, you whispered as you buried your face in his neck. I missed having you all to myself.

- I’m sorry I got caught up in work and football, he said. I’ll do better. I didn’t realize you were so pissed.

- Ok, you said softly. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be all dramatic when I left. I was just annoyed. But tonight made it better.

- I’m glad, he replied with a smile you could hear. I’m sorry.

- Stop apologizing, you giggled. I’ve already forgiven you.

- Yeah. Sorr-

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you turned and kissed him so that he’d shut up. You could feel his lips twitching into a grin as he kissed you back. What started as a soft peck quickly turned into a hot and steamy make out session and it didn’t take long for Marshall’s hands to wander under his hoodie, stroking the warm skin in your back. You were straddling him and you could feel his bulge against your clad pussy (though the fabric definitely wasn’t too thick). You started to grind slowly, earning a groan and a sigh of pleasure. He gently bit your lower lip and you ground a little harder against his hardness. He was quick to remove both your (his) hoodie and your tank top, his hands finding their way to your front, cupping your breasts, gently teasing your nipples. He sat up, firmly keeping you in place, so that he was able to suck on your tit, making you whimper as you kept dry humping him.

- Need you, you whispered breathily.

A couple of seconds later, your shorts and his boxers were on the floor and you were lowering yourself onto him, feeling your pussy stretching, adjusting to his size. It stung a bit, in spite of your evident arousal. You let out a throaty moan as you took all of him and he gave you a satisfied grunt. You started moving your hips slowly, enjoying each and every sensation, the friction directly stimulating your swollen clit. Marshall’s hips moved in sync with yours, setting a gentle pace that allowed the two of you to enjoy the connection. He placed a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a deep kiss that was worth a thousand words, while he grabbed a handful of your ass with his free hand. You were chest to chest, lips connected and you moved your hips, attempting to quicken the pace, but he refused to collaborate, opting for slower motions. His thrusts were deliberately unhurried, but you could feel him deep inside you, almost gasping each time he hit your cervix. You could swear you felt him in your whole abdomen. You moaned into the kisses, enjoying the pleasurable pain of feeling him so well, appreciating the fix of your favorite drug : him. You were in ecstasy, wrapped in each other’s embrace, both of your whimpers filling the room. He wrapped his arms tighter around you and made you roll on the mattress so that he’d be on top, shifting you to a missionary position that allowed him to stare at you, even in the obscurity. You couldn’t see much of the room around you, but you managed to gaze into each other’s eyes, almost connecting to each other’s soul. You cupped his cheek and placed kisses on his jaw as he finally quickened his pace, closing his eyes as he did so. You wrapped your legs around his waist, as if to make sure he wouldn’t stop, and you felt your thighs clench around him as the both of you came at the same time. A second later, your man nearly collapsed on top of you.

- I love you, you whispered as you ran your fingers through his hair.

- I love you too, he said emotionally. More than anything.

- More than football ? You giggled.

- More than football, he chuckled.

You closed your eyes and you held each other as the both of you drifted to sleep without bothering to change position.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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moonselune · 10 months ago

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Hello. May I get an Astarion x Tav story? Tav was secretly creating a blanket for Astarion by themselves, but he sees them working on it. Instead of immediately revealing that it's for him, they have him help make it until it's finished. 💕

Awwwwwwwwwww I love this xx

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x gn!reader : Sewn

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You had been secretly working on a special gift for Astarion—a finely crafted blanket. Each night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, and you were Astarion was out on his nightly hunt, you would take out the materials you had gathered from the day and quietly work on your project. The blanket was a tapestry of your shared adventures, each patch representing a memory or a place you had visited together. You were determined to finish it without him knowing, eager to surprise him with a gift that carried so much meaning. The gods knew he deserved it.

One evening, while you were diligently sewing a particularly intricate pattern, Astarion flounced into your tent, complaining that there was nothing good out in the woods to eat, eyelashes batting and a persuasive pout on his lips, intending to ask you for a little nibble.

“It's a travesty, truly I'm going to starve - Oh darling! What are you working on?” Astarion asked, his voice smooth and curious as he walked over to you.

You quickly tried to hide the blanket under your clothes you had laid out for tomorrow, but it was too late. His beady eyes had already latched on to it.

“Oh, just a little project. Nothing special,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. “A little project, you say? It looks rather intricate for something trivial.”

Caught, you sighed and decided to take a different approach. “Alright, you caught me. It’s a blanket, and I could use some help with it. Care to join?”

His curiosity piqued, Astarion sat down beside you. “A blanket? How intriguing. What’s the occasion?”

You smiled mysteriously, not ready to reveal the full truth. “Let’s just say it’s for someone very special.”

Astarion’s eyes sparkled with interest as he took a seat next to you, and you handed him some thread and fabric. "Alright then, gods knows you need by help your thread work is positively backwards- ."

"-You don't have to help, me Astarion," You playfully chided him and he huffed settling down, not wanting to get kicked out of your tent. You smiled and the two of you worked in tandem, a bit of gossip shared between you.

As the days went by, Astarion grew more invested in the 'project'. You both spent hours working side by side, sharing the trials and tribulations of the day with each other. The blanket gradually took shape, and you had to admit that perhaps Astarion was a better sewer than you.

One evening, as the fire crackled and the blanket was nearly complete, Astarion paused, looking at the almost-finished product. “You know, this blanket is quite beautiful. Whoever it’s for is very fortunate indeed.”

You smiled, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “Very fortunate indeed, in face look here, Astarion," Taking a deep breath, you laid the blanket out in front of him. “This blanket is for you, Astarion. Every patch, every stitch, it’s all to remind you of our journey together.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened with an emotion you rarely saw—vulnerability. “For me?” he whispered, his voice almost trembling.

“Yes,” you said, taking his hands in yours. “I wanted to give you something that shows how much you mean to me. How much our time together has meant.”

For a moment, Astarion was silent, his eyes tracing the patterns and symbols on the blanket. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. “You crafty minx,” he murmured, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “You’ve managed to surprise me, and darling, that’s no easy feat.”

You laughed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it?” Astarion shook his head, his eyes shining with affection. “I love it. And I love you, my dear.”

Little short wholesome piece for y'all, hope you all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate iii #astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #spawn astarion x reader

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roguishcat · 9 months ago

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Astarion x Tav Prompt! (for the 200 follower celebration)

Astarion tailoring Tavs clothes before they reach the big city.

Some sensory ideas: rough linen, crackling warm campfire, fingers caressing skin, crisp autumn air, sounds of skin against fabric, soft sighs or humming

Thank you so much for the ask! I love reading tailor Astarion stories, so this is my humble attempt at writing one. Hope you like it! 💕

This is set in Act II, soon after the tiefling party.

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Word count: 2.4k

Part of his plan

To Astarion their relationship was a transaction. A little tit for tat. Because this was what 200 years of servitude taught him. Nothing was ever given for free. Nothing came without a price. And usually it was not worth the pain or the effort anyway.

But when it came to Tav, Astarion found himself trying to make more of an effort to stay in her good graces. Not because he cared about her as such. But he didn’t find the thought of spending time with her, travelling alongside her, even sharing her bedroll as distasteful as with anyone else. Perhaps because she foolishly put others before herself. Perhaps it was her treating him with respect and kindness. But her being nice made him want… to be nice back. Just to make sure that their leader was well and truly smitten, of course.

That evening as Tav changed out of her armour to offer her neck to him, Astarion’s eyes fell to the rather obvious tear in her shirt. She noticed him look and flushed.

“I was going to take care of that yesterday but felt so tired that I just kind of decided to leave it,” she mumbled, pulling at the fabric awkwardly.

She scurried out of his tent and into her own before he could reply. Astarion felt his lips quirk into a smile. Now this was just the opportunity to make himself useful in their leader’s eyes that he was looking for!

He had already bedded Tav and although the experience was hardly unpleasant, he didn’t look forward to using his body over and over just to secure his place by her side. Therefore, making himself so much a part of her life that she felt that he was indispensable to her was crucial in keeping her interested.

Thus assured that he was once again right and everything was going according to his plan, Astarion grabbed his sewing kit and walked confidently in the direction of Tav’s tent.

“Darling, how about I-”

Tav looked up and Astarion was rendered speechless when he looked at her handywork. Only gods knew how she managed to create the monstrosity in her hands in such a short time. And where on earth did she even get thread of such toxic, garish colour?

Tav blushed a rather fetching shade of red and lowered her eyes.

“I suppose I made it worse, haven’t I?” she whispered, clearly embarrassed at being so terrible at something as basic as fixing a simple tear.

“Well… This isn’t the best needlework that I’ve seen, admittedly. But I am certain that it isn’t the worst either.”

The large, uneven stitches were quite remarkable, in their own way.

“How about I take over from here. I’m sure that we can salvage this,” he gently pried the shirt out of her hands and clicked his tongue as he lifted it closer to his eyes.

“I suppose this will take me a little longer than initially anticipated, seeing as I have to undo your fine effort first, but I will certainly finish it come morning.”

Astarion made a move to rise but felt a hand grasp his sleeve.

“You could stay here, if you wanted,” she suggested, making him freeze.

Truth be told, staying here was the last thing that he wanted to do. It was too intimate. Him staying could be misinterpreted as him wanting to engage in certain activities. And sex was the last thing currently on his mind.

“And have you miss out on the chance to catch up on some beauty sleep? How villainous would that be!” he joked, trying to extricate himself without making it too obvious that he wanted to leave.

“Then I could sit out by the campfire with you. I mean, if you want…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling silly, “we could talk.”

“Talk?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“I would like to get to know you more. Learn more about you, if you allow it.”

Talk. Yes, just like people did when they spent any amount of time around each other. He supposed that knocking boots was not enough for someone like Tav, someone who was… sweet.

Astarion supposed he could be forgiven for jumping to the conclusion that her asking to stay was asking for sex. He met few people who wanted him for his conversation skills. Most wanted to bed him, some wanted to spend time with him afterwards. He could recall hardly any who actually seemed to care for him or his past. And one of these people was sitting in her undershirt and waiting for him to make a decision. Always so patient with him, always treating him with such respect.

“Alright, why not,” he conceded, feeling his shoulders relax a touch now that he knew that she was not expecting him to perform. “Seeing as a night of passion is off the table and there is plenty of time until sunrise, I might enjoy this- this getting to know each other better idea. Though you may want to put something on, the night is quite chilly.”

Unfortunately, Tav had little else to wear. Seeing as others were always a priority, she purchased very few things for herself. Astarion rolled his eyes as he saw her eyeing her armour with uncertainty.

“Here,” he pulled his shirt off and handed it to her. “Whilst I may be all but immune to the elements, it wouldn’t do for our leader to be bested by a common cold.”

She hesitated briefly before taking the shirt and slipping it on. It smelled like Astarion, bergamot, rosemary and something else. Something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but didn’t want to ask.

They walked out of her tent and Astarion took a seat near the campfire.

“So how should we go about it, dearest?” he asked without looking in her direction, but rather focusing on trying to minimize the damage that she did to her clothes.

Honestly, had no one taught her to sew? This work was worse than anything done by the other spawn even in their early days!

“How about… a question for a question?” she suggested, taking a seat beside him.

“Is anything off limits? Are you truly prepared for everything that you might uncover?” he teased, squinting a little as he used the sharp, pointy edge of scissors to carefully unpick her terrible stitches. “Us big city folk come with our terrible, depraved secrets.”

Ah, a blush for his efforts. Familiar territory.

“I can’t say what is off limits,” Tav said, playing with the collar and the ruffles of his shirt with her long, nervous fingers. “How about you are allowed not to answer any one question of your choosing?”

“Seems reasonable,” he shrugged, finally getting the thread that she used to cooperate and pulling on it until the fabric was no longer bunched awkwardly.

“What is your favourite colour?”

How uninspired. Honestly, were they children?

“I assumed it was blue,” she went on. “Your underwear is blue. And you seem to favour the blue dye, when you have a choice.”

“Observant, are we?” he chuckled. “Just how long has it been since I’ve piqued your interest? And yes, this is not a rhetorical question. I do expect an answer.”

“I guess… When you opened the doors on the bugbear and the ogre.”

“Oh? How scandalous of you to find that appealing! Did that get you excited?” he elbowed her gently, finding to his surprise that he was rather enjoying the light tone of the conversation.

“No,” Tav laughed, “but it was the first time you smiled. A real, proper smile. That image stayed with me for a long time. And got me wondering… what is beneath the polished look and practiced mannerisms?”

If Astarion had actually fed on her and any blood coursing through him at this moment, he was quite sure that he would have blushed.

He cleared his throat, “I believe it’s your turn to ask.”

She nodded, but didn’t ask him anything immediately, content to simply watch him for a while. The work of his dexterous fingers was such a contrast to her clumsy, inexperienced movements. Tav knew that she was way out of her depth when it came to Astarion and didn’t think that she would be able to figure him out even if she tried. Which is why she looked for an excuse to talk to him without others being around, wanting to get to know him better. But every time she tried to have a genuine conversation with him in the past, his expression would shutter, and he would give her some tired, clearly practiced lines. And perhaps it was foolish of her, but Tav felt she wanted to get to know him. To really know him.

“What makes you happy? And I mean apart from walking in on freaky sex.”

“Tsk, I was going to say just that, actually. Took the words right out of my mouth, you cheeky pup.”

In truth, he was not really sure how to answer that. Happiness has not been part of the equation for over two centuries. Survival and prevailing against all odds. That was all that he was concerned with.

“I’m not exactly sure,” he finally admitted with a frown. “Drinking your blood makes me feel… strong. Powerful. Free. I am not sure what it means to be happy in your books, but I believe this is it for me.”

He took a furtive look at her from underneath his lashes and was taken aback a little by the genuine, warm expression on her face. By the gods! Who did that? Who actually went around looking at people like that? No one did, in his experience.

“I hope you find more things that make you happy,” Tav said earnestly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze.

“Well, the pleasure of your company definitely tops that list,” he cleared his throat and moved away a little, feeling uncomfortable at the warm feeling that bloomed in his chest. Whatever it was.

“Well, of course! But I mean inconsequential nothings. Something that will make you smile. Something that will make you look forward to tomorrow.”

“And what makes you happy, Tav, hm? Seeing as you are the expert on the matter?”

To his surprise, he actually found that he wanted to know the answer.

“Well, it’s nothing unusual. Seeing people I care about being happy. Being helpful. Seeing families reunited.”

“Tsk, you are no fun!” Astarion clicked his tongue in annoyance. “And here I was, actually answering your questions properly and what do I get in return? A cookie-cutter hero ‘I live to serve’ answer. Give me a break,” he scoffed.

“You don’t believe that people can help others just because?” Tav tossed several sticks into the campfire, the flames rising to lick the dry wood hungrily.

“No,” he said firmly, with conviction. “Not in my experience.”

He took a deep breath that he did not need, more for effect than out of necessity. “People are cruel, vile and everything is done for gain and nothing else.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tav looked down at her knees, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Oh, but I do. My sweet, sweet friend. Kindness gets people tortured. Kindness gets people killed. Kindness is the root of all trouble and you will be better off if you realise this sooner rather than later-” he stopped himself abruptly when he realised that he almost shouted that last part.

They fell silent, the crackling of the fire loud in the stillness.

“I’m sorry you feel this way,” she finally said.

“It is the truth.”

Astarion did not have to look at Tav to know that she disagreed. It didn’t matter. Their experiences were too different. They were too different. She probably was a nice girl from a small town in the middle of nowhere where neighbors were friends, and every day ended with a lovely sunset over the fields. At least that was what Astarion imagined when he thought about Tav’s home. He never actually bothered to ask. Come to think of it, none of them asked Tav about her past. Although they all seemed to be eager enough to have her help them on their personal quests, they actually knew very little about her.

“Goodness me, we seemed to have gotten carried away with that lively discussion,” he cleared his throat, realising that he was silent far too long. “Your shirt is almost fixed, so one last question.”

“Of course,” she stretched, fighting back a yawn.

“The scars on your side,” he noticed that Tav immediately moved to cover them up, pulling his shirt down with a jerk. “How did you get them?”

He had noticed them before, the night of the party. But he didn’t really care to ask then. Astarion out of all people knew that scars could tell quite a story. Cazador told him that his were a poem, but he was determined to find out exactly what it was that that bastard carved into his skin.

Astarion was a little taken aback when Tav’s demeanor changed, the expression turning bitter for the briefest moment before she caught herself. When she turned to look at him, her smile was as pleasant as any she would usually give him.

“Ah. I believe this is the question I will choose not to answer. At least not tonight. Thank you for my shirt and for talking to me. I enjoyed getting to know you a little better. Goodnight.”

“Sleep well, my dear,” he handed her the mended shirt, watching her walk away from the campfire without another word.

Well, perhaps there was more to their fearless leader after all. There was definitely a secret, something that she did not want to be uncovered just yet. And that piqued his interest. Perhaps a goblet of wine or two would loosen her tongue next time they decided to meet for a chat.

Astarion scowled. Him finding talking to Tav pleasant and them bonding was not part of the plan. On the contrary, any sort of relationship was a hindrance.

The vampire rose soundlessly and looked into the woods. Perhaps a hunt to clear his head would do him good. If anything, it would take his mind off Tav. Because whatever was happening between them had to remain a transaction. And it would be prudent not to forget that even for a moment.

Part 2 - 'The best laid plans'

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900,

@ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfic #astarion fanfiction #fanfiction #astarion tav fanfiction #bg3 tav #baldur's gate fanfiction #roguish cat #tailor astarion #budding romance

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 year ago

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✨Welcome to the Moulin Rouge✨

A/N: I have been wanting to write a Joel inspired Moulin Rouge story for a couple months now. Didn’t know what the storyline would be, didn’t know how to quite put it together until I was listening to “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers. Needless to say, the song majorly inspired this one shot. So I hope you enjoy all the angsty Joel feelings since this is in his POV 🥰 We love a good angsty, jealous Joel. Enjoy, lovelies! This might very well turn into a full series once I finish up some of my other wips if people are interested ❤️ Comments and reblogs always make my day 💕

“His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin. It’s more than I can stand.”

- “El Tango De Roxanne” from Moulin Rouge

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Pairings: Joel Miller x Moulin Rouge fem dancer! reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Angst, longing, love, jealousy, flashbacks, no outbreak! Joel, Joel’s POV

Summary: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where touches and gazing eyes turn to feelings and longing that overpowers all senses. That’s where Joel meets you, the girl of all his desires. The girl that starts a fire inside him that he can’t control. But he’s not the only one after her. No. And he’ll have to share even though it destroys him.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The night is dark, foggy, a haze of misty rainfall that pelts against his thin tan jacket. Drip, drip. The rain comes down harder, beating against the slicked back tousled curls that now lay flat against his head. The air is cold, numbing, just like his chest feels now. It’s as icy as his begrudging, still beating heart.

He can hear it, feel it. Almost like he’s there in the room right now with you. He can feel the way the other man claws at your soft skin, hears the stadistic words that spray like venom out of his dirty mouth to you, can taste the way he dips his vicious tongue into your inviting mouth as you swallow the guilt and disgust away deep down your closed-up throat. It burns like hot lava, burns like the back of a knife that cuts deep into his skin that smothers all nerve endings in one slice.

He can hear your faint cries of moans, feel you come apart around the other man, taste the stench of regret on your binded hands. You’re supposed to be his, not the other man’s. Mine, mine, mine. That’s all that plays in his aching head.

Jealousy. That’s what this is, that’s what it’s always been. Ever since he found out that you belonged to him. Terrance. The other man. The absolute pain in his spine. And it wasn’t by choice, it was never by choice. It was arranged, an untieable agreement that was set in place by your uncle long before Joel even knew about it.

It was about money. It was always about the fucking money. It was to save your future, to get you out of the Moulin Rouge. But it was also about all the wealth your uncle would get out of the arrangement. And it was so fucked that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the mess he was tangled in, but he wanted you. He wanted you so goddamn bad and nothing could keep him from having you.

The rain continues, lightning crackling in the near distance as the Moulin Rouge sign blinks big red shaded letters over the whole city to see. It’s pulling the men in, calling their names to invite them into the twisted little fantasy where they’ll spend all their money and pay anything to sleep with the beautiful women of the Moulin Rouge.

The jealousy eats at him, consumes him as it twists its suffocating roots around his wrists and binds him to the ground where he has to watch you go into that back room of the Moulin Rouge with Terrance night after night.

It’s dismantling, unnerving to watch when there’s nothing he can do. He’s just a poor carpenter. He has no money to save you from this hell, has nothing to give except himself. But you always tell him that’s enough, that he’s enough for you. Because you want him, just like he wants you. He tells you he’s not good enough for you, can’t give you a bright future that you deserve. But you tell him he’s enough, more than enough. And it shakes him to the core every single time you tell him this.

His fingernails dig into the backs of his palms, almost to the point of feeling warm blood all over his hands. It’s too much, this is too much. He can hardly stand to even think of you in another man's arms. It burns, stings, pulls at him as his mind breaks apart. Ticking and ticking until he’s almost combusted into dust and remorse.

He needs to feel you, needs to wrap you in his arms as he holds you close in his little barely affordable single bedroom apartment. You always say you don’t care about the money, always say you just want him. And it makes the yearning even worse. Makes it barely tolerable.

You’ll come back, run to him when it’s all over, tell him how much you hate Terrance. Tell him how mean and cruel he is and that he just uses your body like a piece of meat, a golden trophy to display to all the rich, entitled pricks in the burlesque. It makes him sick, sicker than a starving dog. He wants to wring Terrance’s neck until he stops breathing, wants to really make him feel the pain that he does when you’re rolling around the sheets with Terrance, forced to perform for him. It makes him sick to death.

He takes a drag of his cheap Marlboro and inhales the toxic smoke as it soothes his racing heart, slowly blowing it out to try and clear his foggy, lovesick brain. He can almost smell the expensive brand of Cuban cigars Terrance lights after he fucks you, can almost see the way you lay there cold, lonely, in a heap of shame against the damp sheets. And it makes his skin absolutely boil with fury and resentment.

He’s not like Terrance. No. He cares about you, deeply, irrevocably. He’s always so careful with you, always so gentle and soothing and loving. He never does anything to hurt you, always puts your needs first, always takes care of you after he makes love to you in his tiny apartment. He loves you. Just like you love him, immensely.

He remembers the first night he came to the burlesque. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, but he found a group of unlikely writers that dragged him to the Moulin Rouge, to his doom. Remembers how he bought a bottle of whiskey that was so expensive he didn’t eat for two days after. He remembers the night so clearly, just like it was yesterday. Just like it was happening now.

He remembers seeing you for the first time up on that lit up stage, remembers how you kept glancing his way, eyes locking with his as you pulled him into a trance that was so strong that nothing could break it. He was hooked on the first look of your long waves that spiraled down your back, entranced by your big, beautiful eyes that called to him like a siren’s forbidden song, captured with the way your short, flowy pink dress hiked up your smooth thighs as tall, translucent heels wrapped around your feet as tight as they latched onto him.

He wasn’t supposed to end up in that dark room alone with you, wasn’t supposed to put his calloused hands on your smooth porcelain skin, wasn’t meant to dance with you to that slow, romantic song as he wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your sweet vanilla perfume. He wasn’t supposed to cup your chin and pull your lips up to his wanting mouth, wasn’t supposed to chase his tongue with yours as he drank down your cherry flavored taste, wasn’t supposed to get lost in your lips as he kissed and nipped at the plush skin, getting drunk off your taste, off your scent, off your skin.

He wasn't supposed to fall for you after one kiss, wasn’t supposed to tear off your dress and throw you on the bed as he crawled onto the silky sheets and crowded your body with his own. He wasn’t supposed to make love to you, wasn’t supposed to even be near you, but he did. He did. And it was the best thing he ever decided to do in his miserable life.

He was hooked right off the bat by your charm and your beautiful smile and the way you talked about your love of books. He wasn’t supposed to keep seeing you in secret, wasn’t supposed to keep coming back to you inside the burlesque, wasn’t supposed to fall for you when you had your entire life mapped out already.

He wasn’t supposed to fall completely in love with you. But he did, he did. So he’d take what he could, even if it was forbidden. Even if it meant there was a chance of getting caught. It was worth it to him, you were worth it. If he was caught, Terrance would surely put a gun to his head and pull the trigger, end the suffering he has to endure day after day. But he can’t stay away from you. No. You were his, and he was yours. Two doomed souls to walk the eternities of hell at the Moulin Rouge. Two fiery souls that burned for the other, pined for each other.

Forbidden love is like a bad habit that takes over every bleeding thought of the day. Inescapable, paralyzing, intoxicating. It feeds on you like a slow, corrupting disease. Consumes every part of your anxious, debilitating thoughts. But if that means he can have you, he’ll suffer. For you. For you he’ll do anything. Cross the entire ocean just to see your bright, starry eyes one last time. For you he’ll do it all. Anything. For you are his perfect diamond in the rough, his constant. Just as he is yours. The forbidden fruit you were never allowed to taste. But you did, you did.

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where tainted dreams die and longing for the unreachable becomes your worst nightmare. The only thing that holds you up now is him. Only him. Your favorite forbidden desire. Your escape. Your lover.

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harufluff · 1 year ago

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enhypen on your bday /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

warnings - mentions of food, lots of skinship :))

genre - fluff, enhypen x fem!reader, established relationship au, non-idol au

wc - 3.9k words

happy birthday to me and sorn 🥳💕

lee heeseung

honestly he wanted nothing more than to make you feel special. he had a hard time figuring out what to do with you cause you’re never specific about what exactly you want.

hee ends up making you a cute handmade card with a bunch of kisses that he used your lipstick to make 🫠🫠

ends up accidentally sleeping over at your place the night before and having to run back to his apartment before you wake up, to which you thank him for when he comes back :))

more undercut !!

park jay

another who just has a need to make you feel special. but jay’s love language is gift giving, so obviously he was a little flashier.

wakes you up in the morning with breakfast in bed and cuddles with you until 1 o’clock, when he makes you get ready and go shopping with him. he gets you everything that you are even remotely interested in cause he wants you to have everything you want :DD

at the end of the night, jay takes you to a nice restaurant and you end the night with a movie night together in the comfort of your shared home 💕💕

sim jake

wants you so see quite literally everyone who you care about. jakes such a sweetheart that he plans everything and anything for the day months ahead of time.

he makes all the calls to your family, friends, and even just the girl at the grocery store you like talking to lol. the entire day gets him kinda stressed out, but he’s just happy you’re having fun and enjoying your special day.

the two of you end up just laying in bed and falling asleep at 9 o’clock to some old movie in the background 💞

park sunghoon

another one who thinks a handmade gift and a good meal are the perfect thing ⭐️⭐️ he gets to your place around 9 o’clock cause he wanted to let you sleep in, but he also wanted to be the first person you see when you woke up.

he made you one of those cute little ‘boyfriend coupons’ that you see on pinterest, and was considering putting his on pinterest himself.

sunghoon spent the whole day with you in his arms and he quite literally would not take his hands off you urgen after both of you were sleeping peacefully in bed with the love of your lives.

kim sunoo

more shopping to make his birthday girl feel special!! his main focus of the day was just to spend as much time with you before you were whisked off by your friends at night time (that he planned to have them do)

he made sure that you were having fun every second of the day, to which you answered with yes every time. sunoo with his fluffy personality shinning through, pre-ordered cute matching hoodies with his and your own initial ❤️❤️

after picking you back up from hanging out with your friends, he drew a bath for you and you ended the night with some good snacks and your perfect boyfriend.

yang jungwon

also wants your birthday to be perfect, but also wants to be a little selfish for once and keep you to yourself. he had asked you what you wanted to do weeks prior and you had both agreed that you wanted to just stay at home together on the day of, and then have some fun the day after.

he was completely ecstatic. he started off the day with waking you up with sweet words in your ears and a cute stuffed animal given to you by wonnie. throughout the day you lounged around the house together, in the kitchen, living room, bedroom, honestly even the bathroom.

a calm day with your sheep was all you wanted and much more needed for your special day :))

nishimura riki

part of him wanted to stay home and cuddle with his birthday girl, but the other side of him wanted to have a cute little date day. he decided that he wanted to bring you to pottery studio and glaze some cups. he had jay help him plan the scheduling

if he’s being honest, he thought you looked adorable focusing on painting with your tongue poking the side of your cheek.

when you got home, he literally tackled you into the couch, which is where you stayed for hours and letting some show fade into the background as you basked in each other comforting presence.

©️harufluff 2023

hope you liked it!! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated.

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ourlittleuluru · 11 months ago

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Okay I gotta yap about the new Lost Signal memory as it just became claimable because the storyyyyyyy 😭 It's so good???? I love it so much.

In general,

I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING 😭 The script they have to readddd

And the voice acting! Good stuff! 🤣 XAVIER SOUNDS SO STIFF. The voice actors really did a good job, humu humu (/≧▽≦)

Overall story line is just... the two of them sharing some flirty moments but also action! and then the little goofy moments near the end too! (The BGM just adds so much to it) and i love it!

Gonna put the more specific stuff under the read-more (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳ because there's like one specific detail that's interesting. Nothing that's too mind-blowing. 😅 (also spoilers, yep)

Him still asking for consent 🥺 even when it's not an actual kiss.... Just reminds me of the 21 days trailer, where he does the same

and then... of course, there's a whole action sequence! Because that's what this card is all about. AND I mean, I can't help it. Gotta love a battle couple. Though, after all that is said and done...

XAVIER SIR

I KNOW YOU RICH BUT DON'T??? 😭😭😭 he really just... He sounds soooo regretful and really wanted to make it up 🥺 But let the companies go through this with the right processes and procedures first??

But Mr Manager is quite the opportunist X'D

Um... Manager-san???? Xavi??? Really?? You call Xavier "Xavi" and "Xav"??? 🤣 in CN it sounded less awkward. But usually Xavier's nickname by "older" people is 小沈, but the Mane-san called him 小回 after Xavier tried to say his full name 😭 so cute????

Like... what, Xavier??? What are you gonna do??? Destroy more railcar windows???? 😭😭😭😭 Sleep constantly on the job????

First thing... "too BROKE to cook".... Haeh??? Broke? Cook? Xavier? What are you up to??? - was my first thought. Second was just him trying to find an excuse to be with MC... but the real reason... is in the later part

Okay but this whole part also has me cackling 🤣 MC please... your denseness! But Xavier still feeling so darn guilty!! (but one thing here. IDK why, in CN the broadcaster does say "ST" as the donator. Though in EN, the broadcaster says "X" so... not sure why the sub in EN isn't following the EN script :v;;; just localization things, I guess)

MC.... ALL THAT MONEY WAS XAVIER'S 🤣😭 Man is trying to fix his OWN mistakes

but the fact he donated for 15 years... so he pretty much started donating since the Chronorift Catastrophe (or about a year before that) 🤔 aside from running around as Lumiere... Interesting detail to note!

Xavier's habit of scratching his nose when he feels awkward or needs to dodge a conversation topic 🥺💕 (But MC... you're both praising Xavier and dissing him at the same time.... 😂)

Okay... I think this is all for my ramblings??? I'll add on if I happen to catch anything else then. Until then... I'll just listen to this over and over...

Aight, Chu, Signing out! (￣^￣)ゞ

#love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #xavier #shen xinghui #churambles

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scribble-dribble-writes · 2 years ago

Note

Hi!💕

I was thinking about angst for Miguel. Like Miguel being in love with her since he first met her. But he wholeheartedly believes she only sees him as an friend (which maybe or maybe not be true depending on how you want it to go for Miguel) especially when he sees her happy and smiling with another man. I want to hurt but also want a good ending. Thank you ☺️

Thank you for the ask! I hope you like it 💖

---

Lost time

He pushed a doodle he had made towards you. You were seated next to him, helping him with sorting through the influx of data that had gathered from the various universes.

You took the small piece of paper to inspect it, a smile spreading across your face. It was a little sketch of you staring at the screens, with a sentence scribbled beneath it.

Don’t become like me :(

He didn’t know why he was a spider in the first place. He had spent years hating himself for it, for becoming like this. But in moments like these, moments were he too had hidden sketches of you, or when he joked just so he could hear your laugh. It made him believe that he was always meant to be spiderman or atleast he shared a few qualities with the other. It eased the voice of the critic in his head.

But as days went by, he had gone from observing you just because you were the only one he found interesting to never being able to look at anything else because he had fallen in love. That caused the self hatred within him to grow.

How can someone like you? Who lit up every room can be with someone like him.

A mutated monster that could never quite go back to who he once was. The humanness in him fading with every passing day.

He could never hold you close, his claws would get in the way.

He could never kiss you, his fangs would cut you.

And one moment he would be happy, then the next his eyes would narrow down on you like you were a threat.

So him yearning for love was as good as believing in fantasy.

You held him at a certain distance, he felt it, you would be around him long enough to thaw his heart and then flit back to the world you had come from. He watched you relax around other Peter parkers, to pull them into hugs or kiss their cheeks.

He only knew to sulk on that pedestal he built for himself, because if he just pretended to be a statue then his hurt would be left alone, frozen in time.

So he did the same now, push the paper away because if he held onto it, he’d want to frame it. The smile on your face soon becoming the highlight of his day as he sunk back into his chair.

You felt him pull away again. That was how it had been ever since you started being around him. You held the small piece of paper as though it was priceless, another great artefact that he bestowed on you, one you would take home to keep safe. Because as much as he believed he was this creature, these little gifts actually only reinstated how human he was.

You turned to look at him, to catch his eyes for a brief second before he looked away clearing his throat as though he had been caught admiring you. And you did, catch him often looking at you with dreamy eyes, it was only that you wished he would admit it to you, so then you didn’t have to pretend like you didn’t see him.

You saw him. All of him. His happiness, his sadness, his past, his present and the man he had once been, choosing to shine through the cracks now and then.

“Why do you hide it?”, it slipped out your mouth before you could hold it back. His eyes shot to you and you froze.

“Hide what?”, he asked as if you had uncovered his deepest secret.

But now it was out, now you needed to know.

“You.”, you smiled furrowing your brows because you couldn’t understand, why he kept his heart locked up.

He looked away, avoiding your gaze might help him think of a way to escape without giving you an answer but as his eyes found yours again. There was a part of him that didn’t want to shy away.

“There’s nothing great to share.”, he shrugged his shoulders but it made your smile disappear and he hated himself for it.

“Miguel.”, you said his name with a gentleness that you were sure he had not heard of before, you put away the paper to reach for his hand and you felt his fingers twitch upon your contact.

“Stop being hard on yourself.”, he heard you say and it stung him. He pulled away from your touch as though you had wounded him and the surprise on your face made him want to scream out because he had been yearning for your touch. Now he couldn’t even go after what he wanted. What he dreamed.

“There’s a reason as to why I am.”, he disguised the anguish with anger.

“Because of who you are?”, you question and he pushed away from his seat.

“Because of what I am.”, he quipped immediately, his eyes staying glued to yours as you finally saw the sadness behind his statement.

You pushed away to reach out for him, to pull him in, to confess that you loved him just as he was but he held his hands up in defense.

He began to break and it broke you, he mumbled all the reasons you should stay away.

“I could hurt you.”, he stepped back but you stepped forward.

“You deserve better.”, he was trying to convince you but instead it was the tears that were beginning to glimmer in his eyes that got you to stop.

His back hit the edge of the desk softly and it looked like he had admitted defeat.

“So you don’t want me to be around you?”, you asked softly and his eyes shot to find yours, his lips parting to disagree but instead he said,

“Ay dios. I want you. I need you.”, he stopped as he said it in a fit. The truth ebbing out his mouth as he saw you look at him with shock. You made him forget that his life had changed.

“As a friend, as a friend because that’s what we are.”, he held his hands up to ease you to then run his fingers through his hair as though he had messed up this connection between you and him.

But all you’ve been wanting was to know how he truly felt and now there was no need to pretend.

“That’s all we are?”, you asked him. Anxious that there was no room to be more.

“Yes.”, he said slowly.

“Nothing more?”, you stepped towards him as though you were stepping on thin ice.

He didn’t answer and it filled you with anger that he was ready to throw this away. That he wasn’t even going to take a chance.

“Just tell me never liked me and I can move on.”, you demanded and he pursed his lips.

“Tell me.”, you pushed forward, your face now in front of his.

But when his eyes found yours, it burned with passion. It burned as he took your hand. It sizzled as his eyes fell to your lips.

“Nunca.”, he whispered and you wanted to wriggle your hand out of his hold to march away but he didn’t let you.

“I could never imagine my life without you in it.”, he tugged you to him.

“If you had only let me know I had a chance, I would not have waited for so long.”, he said quietly, his eyes roaming over your face as his hand caressed your cheek.

“You’ve always had a chance, Miguel. You never took it.”, you placed your palms on his chest, not wanting to pull away from his arms.

“What are you going to do with this one?”, you asked as you were in this moment, your voice turning raspy when his breath cascaded over your lips.

He waited for a second, but there was nothing to think about. He pulled you to him entirely, his hands cradling your hips so you could wrap your legs around his waist. His lips catching yours with a hunger that matched yours. He moaned with delight as your fingers got lost in his hair.

He didn’t break away but he pushed away from the desk to turn and put you on it. He pinned you down as his hands caged you in, his kisses now traveling down your neck before he returned to your lips.

He pulled away to catch his breath and you couldn’t help but laugh as you were in a state of joy, his eyes softened as he joined you. You pushed yourself up and he held your waist steady, his eyes lost in yours as if he couldn’t make sense if this was real or not.

He leaned forward, to place his forehead on yours as he breathed slowly and before you knew it, you were breathing in sync with him.

“You like me as I am?”, he asked.

“I love you as you are.”, you replied and felt his hands tighten around you.

You nudged his nose with yours to get him to look at you and when he did,

“I love you, Miguel. I always have.”, you repeated it just so he knew you were not going to take it back.

His eyes glistened as he took your hand to kiss your palm as though a broken part of him had healed. He then began to place kisses on your wrist and worked his way down your arm as though his words could never convey the depth of his love. You slowly leaned back to lie down on the table as you pulled him close.

“We might be here for a while at this rate.”, he laughed and you smiled.

“Hmm we can make up for lost time.”, you chuckled.

“Oh I see.”, he said it with a mischievous tone, taunting you as his lips hovered over yours.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”, you laughed as you pulled him by the collar of his suit to kiss him again. His laugh against your lips put the world on hold for a while.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099

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robbsstar · 2 years ago

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cute crush head cannons w jace ! pls 💕💕

of course, my love<3, will be my firs time doing a headcanon 😃

Jacaerys Velaryon has a crush on Reader- fluff

masterlist <-

-Jacaerys was known for being one of the most respectful man in the Targaryen blood line, also a gentleman. But he also had quite the pride being the heir to the iron throne and all that- ignoring that he IS a bastard.

-He would behave just like his mother had taught him. Respectful and kind. He had never met you or your family, he only heard from Daemon and his mother that your family was an important asset to theirs.

-Since he had never met you before, he of course would be struck by your beauty, he would make it known by lingering his eyes on you. His body posture immediately straightens after your gaze found his and your eyes checked him out with a shy smile.

-It was not a secret that your parents were trying to unite your houses with a wedding. While you stayed in Dragonstone, he would be the one showing you around Dragonstone and making you feel welcome.

-Your conversations would first be about your political views or random and awkward topics like the weather. Though after you grow closer you would share your interests and conversation in general would feel not so forced anymore.

-Jacaerys would be the type to recognize his feeling toward someone and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Yes he would feel nervous around but he would have it under control- ignoring Lucerys in the backround, the younger one would so try to ruin your image of the 'Respectful and Kind Prince Jacaerys Velaryon'.

-Jace would make it his mission to 'woo' you as Daemon told him he had apparently done with Rhaenrya. His goal was to have you impressed by him and have you admire him.

-He would definitely be the type to get your attention by 'accidently' brushing your hand or hip. As his objective would be to impress you, Jace would gift you either a jewellery piece with a historical meaning behind it or he would surprise you with something you hold dear- like something from your hometown. He would memorize anything you tell him.

-When you aren't present he would make a list- a plan- and listed the things he wanted to show you- impress you with. Jace would so hide it under it somewhere in his room so Lucerys would not find it.

-He would ask you if you wanted to see his dragon. At first you would be a little sceptical about meeting the he-dragon since they weren't a stranger for burning people and sheep alive but your worries slightly vanished after Jace promised you he had Vermax under control and nothing would happen to you.

-Since Jacaerys is a gentleman, almost womanizer- I am a HARDCORE believer he would lead people- women- by placing his hand on their waist or hip while walking behind them. So on your way to his dragon, Jace would hold you by your waist and walk just half a step behind you while whispering reassurances in your ear, making his and you hearts flutter like crazy.

-On the outside he presents himself as confident and sure, especially in front of you. Hence Daemon likes to watch his stepson fidget in front of a mirror, checking his hair or attire for any stains or wrinkles before going to you. The rogue prince would often share the gossip with his wife, Rhaenrya.

-He would want to teach you more about the Targaryen history but most had important Valryian phrases which would make the stories way more exciting. So would Jace prepare and force himself to take more lessons in Valryian. He would ask his mother to teach him more, hoping she would not tease him. Rhaenrya loves her children- of course, so she would encourage all decisions by her sons. His nervousness would instantly be replaced by faith and self-confidence.

-The day would come where he wishes to tell you about all the historical events regarding the Targaryen's, wars and deaths. You two enjoyed the walk in the halls while you clung to his arm and he took you to statues or paintings.

-Since his attention is on you all the time, he would notice your eyes staring at him while he explained a Valryian Phrase, clear admiration shown in your eyes. So he his confident would spike and pride fill his heart AND head.

-Soon the pride would turn into a disaster. While Jacaerys spoke, he would feel your head lean on his shoulder and your hands squeeze his arm. You had meant to show him that you were paying attention but his thoughts left his mind like his confidence his body. He would begin to stutter and butcher his quick learned Valryian. He would feel so embarrassed, he tried to avoid you the next hours.

-He would shame himself and his efforts. Jace would think he had done too much and he was beginning to annoy you- he did not but he didn't know that. No one else before him had made you feel so appreciated, so you were deeply moved by his antics.

-After one time you had finally caught him and take him on a walk on the beach, he would muster up the courage and apologize to you for 'ruining' the day and trying to to avoid you. So he continued to make you feel joy with success and fails.

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aemondsbabe · 10 months ago

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Hi <3 so I was rewatching episode 1 of season 2, and something I've been thinking about is Aemond's smile when he's talking to Cole about how Alicent blames him for starting the war even though she was already plotting for the throne beforehand. What's interesting to me is that I've seen people referring to his smile as mocking when in reality, to me, it looks so sorrowful. His smile on that scene looks so pained to me, the kind of smile you have when something unfair has saddened you, yet you can do nothing about it. Because right after, he speaks of how Alicent still holds love for the enemy, and he's referring to Rhaenyra, the same person who tried to have him tortured for answers the same day he lost his eye.

Idk it's just interesting to me, these subtle details about Aemond that so many people overlook and interpret in the wrong way, writing him off as uncaring when in reality I think he cares a lot. Do you have any thoughts about it?

i rewatched a clip of the scene you’re talking about and honestly I agree with your take on it!

i havent rewatched any of the episodes yet, but his smile in that instance did feel funny to me when the episode premiered. i think with everything else that went on in that one, i just never stopped to consider it lol

but like i said, i agree! i really like your take, actually. aemond doesn’t smile often, he didn’t even when he was younger, so i feel like each time he does must have some sort of deeper meaning. especially since it seems like ewan as an actor thinks things through rather methodically — i feel like he wouldn’t smile just to smile.

thinking about it in the way you describe it, it does make it incredibly sad. in the glimpses we see of his relationship with alicent before he lost his eye, it seems like they were fairly close. i mean, he came to her crying after the pink dread incident. she was also the only one visibly upset for him the night he lost his eye and the only one advocating for him.

even after aemond is aged up, they’re clearly quite close. he holds her after aegon disappears and reassures her that he’ll find him, etc. their relationship seems a lot closer than her relationship with helaena even and certainly than hers with aegon.

perhaps her blaming him for starting the war is the first time she hasn’t been on his side or the first time she’s expressed disappointment in him, etc. it’s at least significant enough of an event that he’s talking to cole about it, which makes me feel like that’s the case.

either way, that gives a lot more depth and meaning to that scene and that interaction between criston and aemond, and to his relationship with alicent!

i’m really glad you pointed this out, anon! thank you for sharing your thoughts with me!! 🩷💕

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon s2 #hotd season 2 #hotd s2 #alicent hightower #anon #ask

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zenruu · 7 months ago

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Let's Get to Know Each Other's Inquisitors! 20 Questions

I don't know about you all, but I love getting to know other people's characters and seeing all the love they put into them.

Thank you @charmedcleric for the tag!! 💕

Tag some friends and have them answer!

What is your Inquisitor's name? - Haleira Lavellan

Type of build/combat style? - Ice magic is her bread and butter, but she also took on the rift mage specialization

Is your Inquisitor close with his/her family? - Close enough! She’s very duty driven and can be a bit prone to forgetting to keep in touch, though she very much loves and cares for her family!

Closest friend in the Inquisition? - Dorian and Solas. She’s just a magic nerd and has endless conversation potential with these two because they're also nerds. Dorian became more of a friend beyond shared interests while things with Solas understandably became a bit… strained though she’s still determined to get through to him.

Love interest? - Cullen! She was bewitched by his stuttering and awkwardness.

Your three favorite traits your Inquisitor possesses? - She believes in fate above all things (which I don’t admire), but this gives her a sense of serenity that I very much do admire. In her mind, things happen as they are meant to, she is doing what she was born to do and there’s nothing more than that. I also admire her ability to play politics in a way. She’s not a dishonest person exactly, but she’s very good at making everyone feel like they’re getting what they want. And a third trait would be… her gentleness! She’s very calm, quite soft in spite of it all.

Does he/she like to read? - She loves to read! For academic purposes and just for fun.

Can he/she cook? - She can! It’s not a hobby of hers, but she’s satisfactorily proficient.

Favorite season (spring, summer, fall, winter)? - Winter and spring. Death and rebirth.

What would your Inquisitor consider the perfect day? - Waking up early, taking in the cool morning air maybe with a good book, spending a bit of aimless time with Cullen and the kids. Nothing extravagant, she would love a simple day.

Does he/she like the Game (and is your Inquisitor good at playing it)? - She doesn’t relish in it… but she can play with the best of them. She greatly prefers honesty, but she understands the requirements of her role and she will play her part.

Is your character good at Wicked Grace? - She really has very little practice so… not so much!

What will be his/her favorite memory from the Inquisition? - The people! Cullen, obviously… but also her friends and the sense of unification her work brought. She doesn’t have a god complex or anything, but she very much believes she was chosen or destined to fulfill this role and she finds it quite beautiful…

What's one regret your character has? - She would tell you she has none because of her strong belief in fate… therefore in her mind everything plays out as it’s meant to. But there are certainly moments she’s stressed over maybe doing the wrong thing - wrong in the sense that she’s playing “against” fate, as it were. But in the end she tells herself and anyone else that she has no regrets, no matter how much she worries.

If an actor or actress were to play the role of your Inquisitor, who would you pick? - Maybe someone like Elle Fanning? Not 100% but close enough!

What would your Inquisitor's childhood dream have been? - In a not-so-grandiose way she’s always felt that she was going to do something big, so things played out well for her! She was pretty into animals and magic as a kid, and from a young age just kind of figured she'd become the First, but she got a whole lot more than that for sure.

Is his/her life anywhere close to that dream? - Definitely!

What's the hardest part about being Inquisitor for your character? - Being responsible for so many people and their well-being, it’s a lot of pressure! She can also bristle a bit with all the "Herald" talk... she believes she's chosen by her gods, not by the Maker, not by Andraste. However... she does feel that she was put into this position for a reason, if not necessarily to evangelize to the Andrastians, then to at least put forth a good face for the sake of her people.

Does your Inquisitor have any skills or talents others wouldn't expect? - She can sew! She’s not a fashion designer or anything, but she’s proficient enough to make most anything.

What would be your character's ideal happy ending/HEA? - She’s basically got it (Veilguard pls don’t hurt her). A simple life, family, freedom to do what she wants… she doesn’t feel a need for anything more.

I'm tagging (no pressure, only if you want to do it!): @thorinoakenbutt, @faevellan, @telanadasvhenan, @nicolajpg, @hawkesfavor (ok I'll stop there bc five is excessive enough sorry v.v)

#da #oc: haleira #she's by far the least developed of my dragon age ocs so any excuse to think about her a bit is good for me #this was fun!

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kingkat12 · 6 months ago

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girl I love your chapters, and your English is perfect but what is your mother tongue I am really curious. If you want tell us stuff about yourself

hey you!! I didn’t think there was any interest in this information, so I haven’t really delved into that here!🥹💕

to make it short, I’m not too comfortable sharing information about myself as this is quite a… raunchy account, and I would rather walk down the street naked than have this account be traced back to me💀 but I could try to be a little cryptic?

I speak about four languages; one Scandinavian, one Slavic, English, and one Germanic!

English is my third language! I loved learning it, love speaking English, and I had to be moved to a university-level English class when I was in 9th grade because my teacher said she had nothing to teach me anymore💀 and it’s the best language for me to write in, because the other languages I know are either too complicated for me to write comfortably (Cyrillic is fucking horrible) or too weird-sounding to my ears??? oh well🙈

and yes, me knowing a Scandinavian language means that I understand Bill fluently and I can watch anything Swedish without needing subtitles, and let me tell you… this man is ULTRA HOT when he speaks Swedish. the translations don’t do him any justice because god DAAAMNNNNN

anyway, I’m currently in my second year of a bachelor degree which is super fucking damn hard, so I try to squeeze in as much writing as possible in between exam periods because it’s the only thing that gives my brain some relief… and I feel like I’m on the brink of exploding if I don’t write for a day or two lol

aaaanddd I started writing when I was 11! so I’ve been doing this for quite some time (with long hiatuses in between ofc) and I was so happy to finally be sharing my work with you for the first time since this summer!!

I hope that I will feel more secure in the future to maybe be a little more specific, but this is what I’m comfortable with sharing for now🙈💕 thank you for the interest, it was sweet to hear!!🌸✨💜

#thank you reader!!!#gotta love this question #not me rambling again

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laismoura-art · 5 months ago

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You don't talk about them even though I know you have opinions on the overall character, so... Sektor!!

1. Why do you like or dislike this character? (both MK9 and MK1 because I know you prefer one over the other).

For the next ones, you can only do MK1!Sektor if you want since I know you go with her!

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like? (I already know you hate when people pit her against Sareena in ship wars, so is there anything positive you like? 😅)

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

I'm overall curious about Sektor in your AU!

Hey Rasta! Interesting choice!👀 Thanks for the opportunity to talk about ma girl, Sektor!

LET'S GOOOOOOO!!

MK1 Sektor ⚙️

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

Probably for all the reasons most folks dislike her, lmao!

MK1 Sektor is nothing like OG Sektor! I don't like OG Sektor, so I don't care that he was replaced (especially by a woman, sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) Plus, her being different is kind of the point of being a Multiverse story, we came here to see different, and she sure is different!

She's not pure evil like her OG self, and thus not beyond redemption! Sure, she's really, really, really mean, and has evil tendencies, but she needs to be encouraged to act on them.

I honestly believe that if she had better people surrounding her (instead of evil MK1 Bi-Han and her father) she would be a better person, and I like that about her, cause unredeemable characters aren’t really my type, lmao!

Oh yeah, and in my AU, both she and Bi-Han are good people (I was already physically incapable of making evil Bi-Han, now I feel I’ll be physically uncapable of making evil MK1 Sektor, lol). Now though he is still the person she spends the most time with, he won’t bring out the worst in her like he does in canon! (They are still a reeeeeeally mean duo, tho, but they have a good heart😅💕)

But even as a villain, she's still an entertaining villain! She's a cartoonish villain who wants to do evil with her pookie, and they are most likely the duo that runs away giggling after causing some mischief. And I know that's a bit silly and doesn't appeal to everyone, but it sure appeals to me much more than "rotten to the core villain with zero charisma" that was OG Sektor (to me)

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

I did sprinkle my answer with some of my thoughts on MK9 Sektor, but just not to be entirely unfair to him:

I do love to make him the big bad guy in all my fics, and I make sure to make you hate him as much as I do!

He's a real unredeemable character to me and I have zero interest to write him as anything else. He lost me when he condemned Harumi, Satoshi, Hanzo, Cyrax, Bi-Han and Tomas and made Kuai Liang's life hell.

On top of it, I hardly find him charismatic. MK1 Sektor has some real energy and a fun personality, but MK9 Sektor can't even make me fear him even when he has one of the most terrifying goals!

6/10 would kill without hesitation

2. Favourite canon thing about this character?

Honestly, I really like the person she is when MK1 Bi-Han is not around cause, like I said, he brings the worst in her!

I think a lot about her interaction with Khameleon!

She was still VERY arrogant (can’t blame Bi-Han for that, lol) but quite the noble warrior! She had Khameleon's back the whole time and made sure to save Khameleon's Umgadi sisters!

She was only temporarily allied to Khameleon but in that short time she was a true ride or die and fought fiercely for her!

I think "ride or die" is her defining trait and I love that it's part of her nature, and not only something exclusive to Bi-Han. Like, "she's loyal cause she has feelings for him" no, she's loyal to him cause she's a loyal person!

(And a little speculation here, if I may: the reason Sektor went after Harumi so quickly even when Cyrax insisted she should be left out of the fight was because she saw herself in Harumi.

Harumi is also a loyal and fierce protector, and she wouldn't back down when Kuai needed her. Sektor knew that if their roles were reversed, she would react the exact same way and would be as much of a threat as Harumi was!

It was a true game recognising game moment, lol!)

3. Least favourite canon thing about this character?

Her boyfriend, lol💀

Look, I love Sekhan as an evil couple, they match each other's freak, they are goofy and silly, and as long as they STAY LIKE THIS, and don’t become a real threat to my girls, Harumi and Cyrax, by starting the “body horror factory,” I’m good with them!

But I can't help but still wish they were my “mean but with heart of gold” duo ✊🏾😔

They did make a little cameo on my Umgadi Girls fic, and I really liked how they came out! I think this is my favourite way of writing them!

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

Fanarts? Lol🙃

I’m still to explore beyond Tumblr to see what the rest of the Fandom is doing, but here in the neighbourhood… hmmm, I guess any positive take is valid, and they come mostly from the Sekhan part of the Fandom, so though I don’t love this ship, I find some joy in it, especially when it’s more comedy focused!

They are really a funny couple, and I think folks are sleeping on it!

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

I saw some folks saying she was being a “hypocrite” when she said Kuai had "forgotten the meaning of family” but my headcanon/theory/character analysis is that she was actually being cunning and trying to create some animosity between Tanya and Kuai.

We know she turned her back on her mother, and we know Kuai has EVERY reason to be mad at Bi-Han. We all know this. But Tanya doesn't!

For Tanya, Kuai is the guy putting his own brother in second place, while Sektor is the devoted woman doing everything she can to rescue her man!

Huh, I wonder which one this grieving widow would be more inclined towards in case the two had any major disagreement and she had to side with one!

Ma girl is slyyyyy!

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

Best friend, best girlfriend, you name it! Either way, I say it's Khameleon!

I know, obvious choice! But hear me out!

I keep saying that Bi-Han brings out the worst in Sektor, and a better company could encourage her to be her better self! And I say Khameleon is the one!

Sektor wants recognition! She's a genius and wants to be acknowledged as such! We can tell cause she's always flexing her armour and her skills!

And who were the two people who praised her? Bi-Han, sure. But also:

Here's a genuine compliment! One of the few she gets! And we can tell it's genuine cause Khameleon has no reason whatsoever to lie to her. Heck, she doesn’t even have a reason to compliment her! She views Sektor as the enemy!

Sektor probably realised that, too, given how she acts later. She saves Khameleon from Chaos!Geras and then teases her in the most friendly and heartfelt way possible!

No, seriously, just take a look at this body language!

Girl has her mask covering her whole face, and she still manages to have a visible shit eating grin!

Praise this little shit, lmao!

Tell me these two wouldn't have the best relationship ever! The cutest friendly rivalry!

CyberSaurian, my beloved!❤️💚

And I'm not done with them! Cause after Sektor teases her, Khameleon drops this gem:

Thank you, Khameleon! That's what I've been saying!

Sektor wastes her talents with the likes of Bi-Han!

She could be doing so much good, but instead she was almost executed because she chose to side with him! She could be Grandmaster, but she lost that chance when she chose to set Mr Sleeping Beauty free instead!

Bi-Han drags her down, and I think Khameleon could help her see that!

A little fun fact about my AU, since you're interested:

I plan to have Khameleon and Sektor meet there too!

I'm still working on the details but the general idea is to have Sektor and Bi-Han (and Cyrax too) travelling to Outworld cause he got "infected" with an unknown source of magic (cause I want Noob Saibot in my AU) and they are looking for a cure.

The Umgadi girls invite Sektor to train with them so she has something to do while Bi-Han is being treated. There she meets Khameleon and though they don't get along at first (cause Sektor is being, well, herself, lol) they eventually get to like each other!

The reactions are what I'm looking forward the most, lmao:

Sektor: I must say, Khameleon, you... are not as terrible as I thought you would be.

Khameleon: Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Cyrax: The highest...

Bi-Han: How nice of you to get a girlfriend while I was dying.

Sektor: You were just dying a bit, don't be a drama queen.

Bi-Han: >:O

(She teases bit she was worried sick about him, lol! Also I'm still deciding if I'll go platonic or romantic with CyberSaurian)

Harumi: I've been waiting 12 years to finally get a hug from you and I'm still waiting, but Khameleon gets one in a week??

Sektor: I didn't hug her, she fell unconscious and I caught her.

Harumi: I felt unconscious on you once. You dropped me.

@thegrimoiresvoice would you be interested in my take on Sektor?👀

#it took me a bit to gather my thoughts on her #but here they are #hope you like <3 #sektor #mk1 sektor #umgadi girls au #khameleon #cybersaurian #not tagging sekhan cause i can't tell if i'm being fan or hater😅🫣

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