#shout out to husband for helping with these ;A;

[moongreenlight]

Mafia!Price is NOT your fucking aesthetic. A full comprehensive list as to why.

He cooka da pizza!

He goes to church every Sunday. A massive Roman Catholic Church downtown. Ancient building with floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows depicting the life and loss of Christ. Full two hour masses that he always wears a suit to. At first it starts as some last-ditch attempt to absolve him of his guilt, but then it became habit. 

And maybe it was his wife. Her parents were devout and just about keeled over when they found out their only daughter was married by a quick ceremony in the courthouse to a man they’d never met. Her mother was the worst, though it was to be expected. Likely didn’t know John had won his new bride when her husband didn’t have the funds left to pay off his debt. Fucking miracle she hadn’t yet done the math and realized his first child was born seven months later. He’d be persecuted to no end.

There was a target on his back since the wedding. Always put him in the hot seat on Sunday evening dinners while his wife was trying to wrangle their children into eating their vegetables. Drilled into him about work and life and why he always seemed too busy to prioritize “something worthwhile” in his life. Mother sets in on him like she’d been waiting for the opening all evening.

“So, John. Remind us what you do for work.” Accusatory. Glaring over her barely touched plate of roast at him.

“Contracting. Bit of this and that.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes, if only barely. 

“Hm. And what does that entail? Can’t keep you as busy as you swear you are.” She’s unabashed. Her husband doesn’t share the sentiment. He sighs into his glass of brandy and tries to catch her eye. 

“Don’t do much hands-on these days. Project management and bookkeeping for me now. Brought on a few guys to do the grunt. You remember from when we did your bathroom, I’m sure.” He doesn’t shy away from the challenge. Principled. 

“Boys would do well to have some structure. Bet they haven’t been in a church since they were baptized.” She ignores his parry and switches to what she really wants to talk about after looking over to her daughter who is all but force-feeding them florets of broccoli. Typical.

He finally wore down after a Christmas where the only gift he got from them was a deep brown leather-wrapped bible. Used. Split down the spine, dog-eared pages.  Like they’d stolen it from the shelf in the pew for the dolts who weren’t well-mannered enough to bring their own. 

From then, it had become a welcome escape from reality. Church in the morning. 8am service, because he was up before the sun anyway. Sipping coffee in the kitchen beforehand, pouring over a heavy binder with the title ‘family finance’ scrawled in his wife’s delicate handwriting across the front.

He could hear her wrestling with their two boys in the bathroom upstairs. Their indignant screeching clueing him in that he should probably get up and help, but he always tried to steal a few more moments to himself. Calm before the storm.

The boys have sour looks on their faces when they stomp down the stairs not five minutes later, though they’re nothing in comparison to their mother who’s only a few steps behind. They get the deep furrow in their brows from him, the bitter curl of their lips from her. 

“Glad you’re enjoying your slow start, John. Really.”

He should feel worse for not helping. Tries to lay her hackles back down by snapping the binder shut and pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. She barely pauses to accept it before pushing past to pack her purse. Four bibles, his ratty one, her perfectly white one with different colored sticky notes poking out the sides, and two smaller children's bibles that she’d shove in their laps for appearance sake. Snacks for the boys, and a flash of the handle of her small handgun- safetied and then shoved into the bottom of her tote.

“Should’ve shouted f’you needed help. Can’t hear a thing down here.” The boys snicker when he winks over at them. They’re outfitted in their Sunday best. Slacks with damp finger marks on the thighs from where she’d tried to smooth out wrinkles. Buttoned-down shirts that they were already tugging at the collars of. Hair gelled back, no doubt the reason for their griping earlier. 

She doesn’t find it nearly as funny as they do. Shoots him a nasty look over her shoulder before disappearing into the spare room to grab a pair of low heels. 

“We’re already late. If we have to sit in the back again, you’ll never hear the end of it.” It’s not an empty threat. They’d missed one service and some aunt had told her mother in passing. Took three months to get her to stop bringing it up.

“S’not even half seven. Takes fifteen minutes to get there.”

It’s supposed to mollify her, but it has the adverse effect. She looks ready to throw a shoe at him when she sits on the bottom stair to tug them on. He raises his hands in surrender.

“Easy.” 

Somehow all four of them make it to the car in one piece. He sends a message to Kyle before they leave telling him to save them a space toward the front to err on the side of caution.

#I'm mafia-baiting sorry #This was really just to get me back into posting my writing lol #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #sephspeaks #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #price cod #captain john price #john price #captain price #price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #mafia au

[twogyuu]

can we get an update on terrifyingly innocent couple 👉🏽👈🏽

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: a great deal of fluff, mild angst, terrifyingly!innocent couple

warnings: mildly suggestive bc seungcheol -

wc: ~1.5k

a/n: pls read this drabble first to understand the concept of this one!

. . . .

"Beautiful, beautiful!"

A series of shutters go off as the photographer clicks his camera, moving in close, then far, close, then far again. Your cheeks growing sore from the constant stiff smiling, a piece of you wonder if he captures anything coherent with how much he shifts.

"Can you guys move a little closer?" the shoot director shouts, commanding more than she's asking.

Awkwardly, you do as your told, shuffling your bum forward until you're nearly knee-to-knee with Seungcheol. Without being asked, he reaches for your hand, gently letting it rest in his palm as he tries to peer at you. You can sense his concern - this is your first shoot after all, but the director doesn't seem to feel the same.

She let's out an excited squeal at the gesture, "Amazing! I love it - that is perfect!"

Seungcheol chortles softly, the corner of his pink tinted lips twitching up a little at the compliment.

"You're a natural, Mr. Choi," you tease quietly.

He tilts his head up and you mirror him, eyes meeting and holding. A few flashes pass by the two of you, but neither of budge, merely lost in one another.

if you're being honest, every time you're faced with the fact that this man sitting in front of you will be your legal husband at the end of the month, it leaves you feeling aghast and breathless. Despite the number of years you've been together, grown together, and matured together, it's surreal that the Choi Seungcheol will be your legal husband in the next seven months. Of course, your union shouldn't change the nature of your relationship, but it marks a milestone and next chapter to be written, now in both of your lives, interwoven messier than before.

Seungcheol reaches over and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your hair. He let's his fingers linger, the pads tickling along the lines of your jaw before he reaches your chin, which he takes between his pointer finger and thumb. He gently tilts your head back and you let him; he grins and you fight your won, the both of you knowing what's to come.

"Mrs. Choi," he whispers.

Seungcheol leans in, adjusting his head so his lips can slot easily into your own. He captures you in a soft kiss. It's simple and unwavering, what seems like the simple act of touching lips for the purpose of the photo, you figured. Nonetheless, it's not filled with his usual fury, but your heart can't help but swell. You feel equally loved as when he kisses you hungrily behind closed doors.

Seven months seems so far away, but weeks were passing by quickly. Afternoons after work were filled with final dress fittings for you and your bridesmaids; evenings occupied by the two of you selecting final center pieces and floral designs. Meetings with your wedding planner became more frequent. More recently, your original caterer fell through, so you and Seungcheol have been spending every few days at tasting appointments. Being with him feels like an enigma: time moved slow and fast all the same; it became irrelevant even, if you dared.

"And cut!" the director announces the end of this segment.

There's a round of applause that shakes you from your daze, slowly parting from Seungcheol. There's one last shutter that goes off, capturing your sheepish state and the loopy grin now painting Seungcheol's face.

"I think this is enough for these outfits," the director explains, approaching the two of you. Seungcheol halfway in extending a hand to help you up. "If you want to go change and touch up your makeup, we'll get started in another fifteen minutes?"

Seungcheol nods politely, "Sounds good."

You echo his response, but before you could say anything more, he leads you off set. He walks hastily for reasons you're not sure. You throw a quick look back behind you - no one seems to follow.

Your dressing room is shared, two separate tables for makeup and two separate racks of clothes on either side of the room for you. There are makeshift screenblockers to allow you to change in private - not that either of you haven't seen each other before, but for the sake of makeup artists and stylists.

"Seungcheol, we should wait for the -"

Your fiance whisks you inside, slamming the door shut and pressing you up against it. He doesn't wait another second to lean over and capture your lips in his once more. You're stunned at first, but quick to follow suit. This kiss feels more familiar; Seungcheol kisses fervently and deeply. He doesn't waste a breath, nor does he spare space, caressing the base of your neck, his other hand holding your waist as he pulls you close. His lips move languidly as if he couldn't get enough of you.

You gasp softly when the two of you finally pull apart, the sound of footsteps nearing the room.

"That's more like it," he licks his lips savoring your kiss.

"Seungcheol!" you squeaked, cheeks burning.

He raises one of his brows at you teasingly. His expression is quick to drop though, noticing the way you're raising a hand to wipe your lips.

"Hey!" he pouts, reaching for your wrist and pulling it away.

You frown at him. "What the heck?"

He mimics your frown, pulling you into an embrace now. He shrugs innocently, "The photoshoot kiss wasn't quite enough."

"Enough for what?" you press your palms against his chest.

"To show you I love you," he giggles.

"You are so!" you swat at him lightly.

Seungcheol throws his head back in a loud laughter, knowing how much you actually loved, but still pretended to hate his rather frequent declaration of love for you. It makes his heart swell to no end. He was the only one who could make you act this bashful after all these years. A small piece of him is grateful that you've never gotten tired of it.

When the laughter dies down, head resting against his chest, the two of you stay intertwined, swaying to a silent rhythm in the middle of the brightly lit room. The calm and privacy are welcomed - despite all the preparation for the wedding to celebrate the both of you, it feels like you hardly had a moment together to just enjoy one another's presence.

"Seven months," Seungcheol mumbles, "And we'll be married . . . you'll be mine."

"As if I wasn't already?" you chortle.

He squeezes you playfully. "It's different," he sighs, "You'll be stuck with me . . . forever."

You click your tongue against your teeth and wrinkle your nose jokingly, "Well, when you put it that way-"

"No take backs," Seungcheol cuts you off. He plants a chaste kiss on your temple. "You're stuck with me, babygirl."

"I thought I was wifey now?"

"Same difference."

You roll your eyes at his childish antics - though, you don't think you'll ever truly get tired of it.

The sacred moment is fleeting, your makeup artists and stylists barging in and interrupting the moment. They're quick to halt, bearing witness to the obvious intimate moment. Hasty apologies are thrown as they start to shuffle away. One hand still encircling your waist, Seungcheol reassures them that it's fine, gesturing them to their work stations.

Seungcheol plants one last peck on your forehead before you part ways to your designated sides of the room. Fingers lingering, not wanting to let you go, he shoots you a small wink, as if to tell you it won't be long.

You spin around, finding yourself face to face with your makeup artist. She seems startled, her once bored expression changing to one of alarm.

"Is . . . everything okay?" you ask her slowly.

A beat passes before she stammers out, "Y-you . . . have something . . . your lipstick . . . " Her voice trails off as she laughs nervously, gesturing to the left corner of her own lips.

You suck in a sharp breath, hands clamping over your mouth.

Behind you, you only hear Seungcheol guffawing behind the curtains as he changes.

"We didn't do anything," the words spill out of your mouth faster than you can catch yourself. "

"Oh!" your makeup artists waves at you, "I-I wasn't assuming anything! And if you did, um, y-you guys are married after all."

"We did do something though!" Seungcheol shouts.

You wish you could melt into a puddle then and there.

"We kissed!" he adds.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale and exhale deeply, asking your crew, tired, "Can we just go get ready?"

Your makeup artists nods, leading you to the chair.

On the other hand, your stylist seems to be enjoying it, smiling and straightening out your next outfit.

"Never change," she tells you, looking over. "I hope the two of you love like this forever."

As annoying as he was, you did too.

#seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff

[discotitsposts]

i do

spencer reid x fem reader

spencer asks you to marry him and you get married in a quick ceremony (set in like season 11 in my mind)

a little short but silly and fun and i love happy spencer he deserves it

his ass looks so juicy here

—————

Spencer had been nervously shaking all morning. You were really worried about him. Why is he acting so strangely? You wondered while drinking your own coffee.

“Spence, anything the matter love?” You ask softly as you set his mug of coffee down on the table in front of him.

He just lifts his head and reaches into his pocket nervously. He slowly gets down on one knee in front of you. You realize where this is going and gasp. He pulls out a small black velvet box in the shape of a heart.

When he opens it carefully, there sits your dream ring. It’s absolutely beautiful.

“Will you marry me?” Spencer asked tears flowing from his eyes.

“Yes! Of course I will Spencer!” You jump excitedly.

“I know a pastor that can marry us in an hour if you’d like.”

“But I don’t wanna marry a pastor, I wanna marry you!” You pout.

“What? No that’s not what-,” Spencer starts confused.

“I’m kidding! Of course I want to marry you now!! Let’s go!!” You race to grab your phone and call the closest thing Spencer’s got to a real family. The BAU team.

The team was going to meet you down at the church. You had just snagged a wedding dress quickly from a bridal shop. It was beautiful and exactly what you wanted. You were now in an antique shop.

“Ok so your necklace is the something old, your dress is the something new. All that’s left is something blue and a penny in your shoe.”

You lift your heel so he can slip the penny in your shoe.

“What can we find that’s blue?” You keep looking and find nice cufflinks for Spencer to wear. He was currently looking at vintage suits.

“What do you think?” He holds up a dark blue suit.

“Honey I don’t think you can be my something blue.”

“I just happen like the color though.” He pouts.

“Then it looks very nice. Hey what about this?” You hold up a beautiful antique tiara littered with blue jewels.

“Beautiful. Let’s get it.” You both race to the church and change. The girls help you with your hair and makeup.

Spencer goes ahead to meet the pastor at the altar while you wait at the end of the aisle. The BAU team and a few of your friends are waiting there cheering you both on. The organist plays the wedding march and Rossi takes your arm and walks you down the aisle.

JJ’s son follows as the ring bearer.

You’re crying, Spencer’s crying, Rossi’s crying, everyone’s crying. Even Morgan.

You thank Rossi and step up. Emily, JJ, Tara, and some of your friends are bridesmaids and Penelope, being your maid of honor, lifts your dress’s train and adjusts it. Spencer’s best man is Morgan. Hotch and Will are up there with him.

Spencer takes your hand and you speak your quickly written vows. Then the pastor.

“Do you Dr. Spencer Reid, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” Tears are streaming down his face.

“(y/n) do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” You’re smiling at him and squeezing his hands.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The pastor smiles proudly.

Spencer kisses you passionately. Then you throw your bouquet to the bridesmaids, Penelope catches it excitedly. Emily doesn’t even try to catch it.

Hotch throws some rice at you guys while laughing. JJ and Will are also throwing some.

Morgan shouts after you guys as you try to escape, “They’re excited to get started on the honeymoon!!”

After you guys leave he turns to Penelope, “Can’t believe the kid finally got hitched!”

That’s just what you guys did, hopped on a flight to anywhere you’ve always dreamed of going, got the biggest honeymoon suite the hotels offered, and enjoyed yourselves.

They lived happily ever after!

The End💘

————

i hope this was even a little bit fun to read, please let me know if you enjoyed.

______

tags-

@whoisspence

@lemonadeinfuser

@fictionalobssed

@exoticisles

@in-another-april

@gallifreyan-idiocracy

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid

[hisfavegiri]

One Mistake - Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader.

Warning : typical inscet Targaryen, angst, mentions of an affair, harsh language, mention of blood, miscarriage.

You looked at your husband with the knife still at his neck, your tears flowing freely. You ignore the screams of your mother and sister asking you to stay away from Aemond, you are really angry now that Aemond has crossed the line.

"What are you waiting for? kill me now” you could see Aemond smile a little and it made your stomach turn, how could he be this calm when there was a knife at his neck?

"You think I can't do it, huh? You're wrong husband, I really can" once again you pressed the knife deep into his neck which you guaranteed might have hurt him because you could see the change in his expression a second ago.

You continued to stare at him sharply and angrily, but suddenly you dropped the knife in your hand. You may be angry and disappointed, but you still love him. he looked at you in shock and you ran out.

You ignored everyone's whispers and stares as you ran towards your chambers, you no longer cared what they said. As soon as you enter your chambers, you throw everything and scream.

You ignore the knock that comes from outside the door, you feel empty, you feel weak, your husband, the person you love has a child with someone else. A bastard, news that you can deny as strongly as possible, but it turns out that today the woman, Alys, brought their son and you saw him. A son that Aemond longed for was in her arms.

Suddenly your world was destroyed, the dreams you had created together with Aemond suddenly collapsed. You kept crying and screaming until your throat felt hoarse, You decided to stay in your chambers, you wouldn't come out to anyone. even your mother and your twin sister.

“My love? can you let me in?” You hear the soft voice of your mother who has been begging you to come in for three days, but you still hold on firmly and don't let her in.

you can hear her breath before she knocks again, “you should at least eat, I'm worried about your health love.” You remained silent, you hadn't even touched the food she brought you yesterday.

when night falls, your mother still continues to persuade you to open the door. This time she was accompanied by your sister, Haelena. “y/n.. please open the door, talk to me” but they noticed that your chambers door was no longer locked.

When they opened the door to your room, your mother screamed hysterically when she saw your current condition. You are lying on the floor with blood coming out from between your legs, there are also bloodstains on your mattress, there are visible tear marks on your cheeks and soft sobs are also coming out of your mouth.

"M- mother.. what happened?" that's all you can ask, Haelena ran out to call the Maester while your mother shouted for Aemond. You slowly closed your eyes making your mother panic even more and suddenly everything went dark.

You lie on the bed, your mother and sister always visit and even accompany you. It's been almost two days since you were unconscious after that incident, the incident where you lost your first child who you didn't even know was growing inside you.

When you find out that you have just had a miscarriage, you feel very useless, you feel broken, and feel empty. you blamed yourself until your mother told the Maester to give you medicine to help you sleep.

You growled as you felt extremely dizzy, you blinked your eyes and looked around you. until your eyes fell on Aemond who was standing near the fireplace, he looked at you with a blank but sharp gaze.

“What are you doing here? I don't want to meet you” you spat at him as he walk closer to your bed. You were shocked when you felt his big hands grip your cheeks roughly, you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“because of you, I lost my child. because of your stupid and childish attitude, I lost my heir”

You looked at him in disbelief and anger, tears rolling down your cheeks now. You let go of his hand with all the strength you have, you're angry, you're furious. Not only does he blame you but he also doesn't realize that the reason they lost their child was because of him.

“my fault? you blame me?! Don't you think Aemond!? why am I like that? you cheated and got that whore pregnant! you have a child with someone else! and you can still blame this on me?! Are you crazy!?”

you screamed in his face, your breathing was very irregular because you were angry. your eyes are red from crying, you can't understand how he could blame you?

“What?! now you can't talk huh? what I said is a fact! You got her pregnant and hoped I would forgive you because I love you?!? I'm not that stupid! I'm not like Haelena when she found out Aegon had many children from his whore, I'M NOT LIKE HER!”

Aemond just remained silent and continued to stare at you, he had no intention of replying to you and you hated that. you turned your head around when you heard your mother's voice “what is this? y/n darling? why are you screaming? you must rest"

You looked at him and smiled a little, before finally taking the knife that was on the left side of Aemond's body. Aemond was shocked and you pushed his body, he fell unguarded.

"I'm sorry if I was never the best daughter for you mother, I will always love you" before your mother and Aemond could take the knife in your hand, you had already slashed your neck.

Aemond captured your body, you could hear your mother's voice calling all the guards to immediately bring in the Maester. Aemond looked at you in shock and fear, you smiled and gently stroked his cheek. "I hope you are happy Aem, sorry I couldn't be a good wife for you" then your eyes close and slowly your hand fell from his cheek.

“no, no, no! don't you dare close your eyes! y/n! Forgive me! y/n! please come back!” Aemond shouted while hugging your body which was starting to get cold, he cried and whispered sorry repeatedly in your ear. when the Maester came, he told you that you were gone. and that night was the night Aemond lost the only person who truly loved him, you.

tag list - @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @eratosmusings (italic means that i can’t tag you)

#hotd #hotd imagine #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd one shot #aegon ii targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x you #prince aegon targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #alicent hightower #haelena targaryen

[aydracz]

South Downs Happy Husbands

@idkchatie

(More pics below - can someone please teach me how to tumblr? This is just embarrassing for everyone.)

Buzzing to share these with you! While on our trip to London to see Nye (which was phenomenal and so was meeting Michael afterwards!), @0xlilith and I made a day trip to the South Downs to see where the innefable husbands will spend their retirement.

We were blown away (figuratively and literally - the weather was quite rough at the beginning) by the South Downs! And then the time came to take out some amazing fanart and take photos of what Crowley and Aziraphale might be up to in the future.

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

@blairamok

@lizulimu on X

@numbuh424

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

Couldn't find the creator - please help, so I can credit them

@tio-trile

@kidovna

Bonus - @0xlilith and I, being the rational adults that we are, decided to draw magician moustaches, print out the first photo and go to the National Theatre again to show it to Michael Sheen. Sadly, he didn't do stage door that night. But we met many wonderful people in the queue so it was a great evening nonetheless!

We had a blast doing this and many new headcanons came out of this trip. For example:

Crowley shouts at all the rabbits because they are eating his garden produce. Until he notices there are also little bunnies and he simply cannot shout at those. He ends up dedicating part of his garden to the rabbits. Aziraphale finds this endearing.

While on their walks on the cliffs, Crowley picks up snails.

Crowley makes up random stories about the local lore and tells them to the tourists. Aziraphale puts and end to this when the stories gradually become more and more unhinged.

Aziraphale takes up bird watching.

Crowley makes fun of it at first but then he also takes up bird watching.

Aziraphale and Crowley start competing in bird watching.

Aziraphale doesn't believe Crowley saw the birds he claims he did.

Crowley is adamant he really saw the yellow-breasted tit.

Aziraphale calls Crowley a yellow-breasted tit.

Etc etc.

Hope you enjoy these as much as we enjoyed making them!

And if you are in London right now, some are actually glued to the benches around the Bandstand in Battersea Park. Check out my previous post to get the details!

#the future we were promised #nothing but the very best for the group of the two of them #the nightingales shall sing again in the south downs #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale and crowley #go2 #gomens #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #aziracrow #michael sheen #good omens 2 #david tennant #neil gaiman #south downs #south downs cottage #seven sisters #art #good omens fandom #good omens fanart #aziraphale fanart #crowley fanart #go fanart #go2 fanart #good omens 2 fanart #ineffable fanart #fanart

[volklana]

My Woman. My Woman. My Wife.

Title comes from this song:

Request: All the sihtric fics😭 just fluff…mingled with angst. I just know he’s the most attentive lover ever. Always bringing flowers, making you laugh(bc his one liners are hilarious), sharing his furs with you… but I know he must have a temper. And he’s always gone away for so long. Poor rat boy probably thinks he’d be a terrible husband because of how often he’s gone for long periods of time. But he’s not😭 he’s the best husband ever. Anyway I got carried away, just all the sihtric things

@canyonmoon-2 I really hope I did your idea justice xx

Warnings: Details the loss of a baby and the grief in the aftermath of that loss. If that isn't for you, or it's too traumatic please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

Not proof read but mistakes will be corrected in time.

Requests are open:

The ride back to Winchester seemed to be taking longer the closer he actually got to the city.

He was beginning to feel lightheaded with dizziness at the thought of seeing you again.

Sihtric was besotted with you, had been from the moment he laid eyes on you, catching your eye across the square, hauling your cart of produce to sell at the market.

At first he was too shy to even look you in your eye as he paid for apples he didn’t even need, but as soon as your fingers accidentally brushed, he couldn’t help but delight in the shy smile that you shot his way, as you wished him to have a good day. 

He couldn’t help but offer to escort you to your homestead that night, he had claimed it was to keep you safe but instead it was to steal a few more moments with you, you had walked in easy silence until you suddenly stopped and turned to face him.

“You haven’t told me your name.” you giggled and Sihtric’s face lit up “You’re walking me all this way and I don’t even know your name.”

“You would let a man you don’t know walk you home and you never even thought to ask his name. A pagan man at that. What would your nailed god say?”

“I know you are one of Uhtred’s men,” you considered.

“And that is the only reason you would allow me to accompany you?” Sihtric teased.

“That is the main reason, but I do have others,” you teased back.

“And what would those other reasons be lady?” he quirked his head to examine your face and you smiled, that gorgeous smile his way again.

“Perhaps we should start with your name first,” you giggled and goddamn it Sihtric wanted to get down on his knee right then and there for you, “I am Sihtric, lady,” he smiled, suddenly shy and you considered him for a moment, “I am y/n.” 

And so that became your weekly routine, Sihtric would walk you home from the market and you would chat easily. He would linger awkwardly outside your home, neither one of you wanting to say goodbye until the day when he got a sudden surge of confidence, Thor knows from where and sprung forward to press his lips against yours. You absolutely melted into his touch and giggled when he pulled away, his whole face lighting up with a smile, “I have been waiting weeks for you to do that Sihtric,” you giggled and for good measure he kissed you again.

“Sihtric, you barely know her,” Uhtred warned.

“I know enough lord,” he uttered shyly and Gisela considered him gently.

“You love her,” she eased after a while and Sihtric’s face broke out in a smile again.

“And she loves me. She tells me all the time,” he rushed before his cheeks lit up crimson with embarrassment, and Gisela couldn’t help her amused smile. 

She reached a hand to Uhtred who frowned her way at first, a silent conversation happening between their eyes.

“Very well Sihtric, you may marry your lady,” he sighed but Sihtric had already taken to running.

“Thank you. Thank you lord,” he shouted over his shoulder and he was away to find you scooping you into his arms, peppering kisses to any part of your skin he could reach.

Sihtric was the most attentive man you had ever known. He loved you in ways you hadn’t even known possible. There was not a single moment you were together that his hands were not on yours. You joked that he should climb inside you and live in your skeleton more than once, but you had a feeling that he would’ve if he could. Opting instead to be inside you in the only way he could, as many times a day as you would allow, and you would never refuse him.

Nobody had ever loved Sihtric, no one had ever been tender with him. No one had ever shown him that he was worthy of beautiful things and you vowed to spend every day of your life proving to him that he did. 

Gentle hands traced scars and kissed the parts of his skin that had been broken by his father’s cruelty and sometimes the feeling was so intense for Sihtric he could barely bring himself to look you in the eye.

“What is it love?” you murmured pressing kisses to his his worried brow.

“I have to go away with Uhtred again.” 

“To battle?” you asked gently, caressing his face.

“To battle,” he confirmed.

“Sihtric, you love being a warrior. What is this about?” 

“I don’t want to be without you. To go back to how it felt before I knew you. The darkness…”

“I will be here waiting for you. Right here,” you took his hand and placed it over your chest, “Feel my heart, know it is real and it belongs to you. I will be here, loving you.” 

Sihtric surged forward and pressed his lips to your needily, feeling reassured that his woman would be waiting for him.

You had built a wonderful life together with Sihtric, and you were happier than you had been in your life, but Sihtric struggled with leaving you every time.

He was weary from the ride but the thought of you pressed him forward. 

As soon as he and Finan dismounted, Finan urged him to come for a drink in the alehouse but Sihtric was furiously shaking his head and excitedly told him he was away to find his wife. 

He burst through the door of your home, flowers in hand, calling your name but the smile slipped from his face when instead of being greeted by the sight of his wife, he was instead greeted by Hild.

“Where is she Hild?” he almost shrieked, panic coursing through him, making it hard to breathe.

Hild squeezed his arm gently and as reassuringly as she could, but her face was grave, and she led him through to the bedroom, where Sihtric collapsed down to his knees by your side, the sight of your deathly pale skin and gaunt face, enough to send him into a spiral.

“What is it? My love? My Life?” he was begging, stroking your hair, he wanted to pull away from the coldness of your skin. You were always warm, his warmth his sunshine. 

“It was a little boy,” you whispered weakly “We had a baby boy, Sihtric.” 

His head was reeling, he hadn’t even known you were pregnant before he left, nor had you.

“I couldn’t keep him,” you suddenly cried, giant sobs wracking your weak body, “I lost him. I lost him.” you were hysterical and all Sihtric could do was crush him to you and wrap you up in his arms.  

Sihtric held you, letting you cry on him until you had no tears left, repeating that he was sorry, he was so sorry, and none of this was your fault, and when your eyes finally slipped closed he allowed his own tears to fall. 

Hild took him into her embrace when he finally re emerged from the bedroom, and they made their way outside, where under the shade of a leafy oak, he found the small arrangement of burial stones, that he threw himself upon and wept.

“She insisted we honour your traditions,” Hild finally broke the silence. “I had Gisela’s help, but she arranged the stones herself, nearly killed herself in the process.”

“Will she live?” he finally mustered the strength to beg.

“She is very weak, and if god..if the gods are good, she will live,” Hild reassured 

“She has to,” Sihtric whispered “Or you may as well place me here with my boy.” 

You regained your strength over the next few weeks, slowly and with the help of Hild and Sihtric. Sihtric never left your side, fetching you food, bringing you extra furs to keep you warm and at night, he pulled you as physically close as possible, lamenting the loss of your warmth, for now you always felt cold to him.

But soon you were back on your feet again, well enough to walk, well enough to have Gisela and Uhtred over for dinner and well enough to make love to Sihtric for the first time in weeks since he had got home. 

Sihtric was wound tighter than a leash the past few days, his face constantly pulled into a frown lately, and no matter how much you tried you could not seem to pull him from the depths.

“What have I told you?” he snapped suddenly, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, “You are my woman, there is no need for you to do these jobs anymore. I will do it!” he snapped.

You had been attempting to help him ready his horse, as you had done a million times, lifting his heavy saddle bag up to attach to his saddle.

You watched him silently as he roughly threw his things together. You were rarely on the receiving end of Sihtric’s temper but lately you seemed to be finding yourself under it more and more. 

He made to mount his horse and you couldn’t help the phrase that fell from your lips.

“You blame me for his loss?” you stated but it was more like a question.

Sihtric stilled all action, but he did not turn to face you.

“That is why you cannot speak to me with tenderness these days. Is it not?” your voice was small and you fiddled with a thread on your sleeve.

“If you cannot love me anymore. If I cannot make you happy, then I set you free. I told you the night we first made love that you deserved to be happy, and If I cannot do that for you, I set you free. I set you free because I love you more than anything on this earth and I cannot bear you to be this unhappy” 

“How can you still love me?” he snarled, turning to face you, wild eyed.

“I was not here. I left you alone. I left you to endure his loss alone,” he was clawing at the skin on his left forearm, leaving fresh nail marks, an old habit from when Kjartan would lock him in the cellar, knowing a beating or some other form of humiliation was coming his way. If he hurt himself first, the next hurt would never be as bad. 

“Set me free because you would be better off without my weight around your neck. Set me free so you may find a man who can love you the way you deserve. A man who will never leave you alone another second of his life. But do not dare set me free because you love me. I do not deserve your love, not now and I certainly never did.” 

You reached for him, but he pulled his arm from your grasp, your head reeling from his lack of tenderness.

“If you leave me now Sihtric, in this moment here, that will be the only time you will have abandoned me. The only time you will have left me when I really needed you.” 

Sihtric looked at you conflicted, two mismatched eyes trying to frantically find the right thing to say.

“I can’t forgive myself,” he finally mumbled “And to think you could ever believe that I blame you for his loss. There is only one person at fault here and that is me. Because I cannot promise that I will never leave you alone again.”

“I knew who you were when I agreed to marry you. I knew you then, as I know you now and I know for every time you leave me you will always return.” He finally allowed himself to be pulled into your arms, and you tutted at the unmistakable scratches on his arm, he had been hurting himself for a while. 

“Oh my love,” you cried “All this time I have thought you were blaming me, but you have been burdening yourself with the blame of this loss.”

Sihtric nodded in your arms and you traced your thumb across the scar on his face, before placing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Neither of us are to blame my love, the gods were cruel.” he nodded in your hands finally allowing his eyes to soften, boring into yours and when he looked at you this way, you could always see the small, skinny boy who only ever knew hurt, fear and humiliation but never love. 

“Talk never of setting me free again my love,” he begged, closing the distance to lean his forehead against yours “My place, my only place is here by your side. My woman. My woman. My wife.”

Tagging: @canyonmoon-2 @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @shamrockqueen thenameswinter99 foxyanon

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #volklana writes

[favefandomimagines]

Ocean Away (a.b)

Summary: a disastrous fight threatens to end your engagement with Anthony

AN: inspired by “Ocean Away” from the Unofficial Bridgerton Musical. I know it’s a song for Daphne and Simon but I thought it would fit so well with Anthony

This was deeeep in my drafts

He hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. What started out as a seemingly normal conversation, ended in both you and Anthony shouting at each other.

“Anthony, I need to ask you something.” You said to your fiancé. “Yes, darling?” He questioned. “When was the last time you saw Siena?” You asked.

The question took him aback. You have never spoken of Siena or his past endeavors. Meaning something must have made you ask him. “What has made you wonder such a thing?” Anthony asked. “Lady Whistledown,” You started before a scoff cut you off.

“Lady Whistledown? You are believing this gossip now.” He spoke. “She has never been wrong before, Anthony. She wrote that she saw you leave the opera house the other evening.” You said.

“An evening where you said you were with Benedict.” You added. “You are above believing these lies, Y/N.” He said. “You have not yet denied it once.” You replied.

Anthony had yet to deny any of what Lady Whistledown wrote and that made you fear that what you had read was true. “I should not have to. We are to be husband and wife in a matter of weeks and you question my fidelity to you.” Anthony said.

“Because two weeks before you proposed to me you were with her. Am I wrong for worrying?” You rebutted. “Your insecurities are not my doing, do not put this blame on me.” He snapped. “My insecurities? I have never been insecure in our engagement until you gave me a reason to be.” You spoke. “This is mad. You believe Lady Whistledown over me?” He asked.

“For goodness sake, Anthony, you have not denied it! There is only one side to this currently and it is hers.” You yelled. “Well, forgive me for not wanting to entertain this any longer.” He said, turning away from you. “You cannot even be honest with me, can you?” You asked quietly.

Anthony could hear the way your voice began to break as his back was to you. He never wanted to hurt you.

Hurting you was at the top of a list of things he never wanted to do to you. And by not claiming his innocence because of his pride, he was hurting you.

“I am going to spend the night in Eloise’s room.” You announced. Anthony still made no attempt to move or even apologize.

You wiped a tear from your face quickly as you headed for the door.

“I sincerely hope you know that Lady Whistledown said I was mad for accepting your proposal. That you would always be the naive and self-sabotaging young viscount. Please do not prove her right.” You spoke before leaving the room.

The problem was Anthony was a prideful man and it would be his pride that would prevent him from doing what was right.

The garden party was supposed to be a celebration of your engagement and it was turning quite sour. Luckily, no one knew of the turmoil that was going on because of the facade you had put on all day.

You spoke to guests, entertained their prodding questions into your wedding and tried to carry on with the afternoon. Your eyes often wandered to Anthony, who was standing stoically with Colin and Benedict. He looked as if he had completely forgotten about your argument as if it meant nothing.

It hurt you, seeing him act so blasè about what had occurred the night prior. That made you fearful because what if he ended the engagement? What if he did not want you anymore?

He had yet to apologize for the way he spoke and the words he said, you had hoped he had just forgotten. Or maybe he was not sorry at all.

You found Eloise and Penelope Featherington, both girls trying to help distract you from your own thoughts.

Eloise was one of your favorite people because of simply how she was unapologetically herself. She was a very funny young woman and that was refreshing in society.

Anthony watched you as you smiled and laughed with his sister by the lake. You were happy after all that happened last night. How could you be happy?

“How can she be smiling? It is as if she realized I am not what she wants.” Anthony spoke aloud. Benedict and Colin looked at one another, neither knowing how to approach the topic.

“Brother, maybe she is trying to be brave. Not let people know she is hurting. They all believe you were with Siena the other evening, she is trying to show it is all a lie. Even if she does not believe it herself.” Benedict said.

Anthony continued to watch you, your eyes never once meeting his gaze. He knew he needed to apologize to you. Tell you that he was never with Siena and the moment he realized you were who he wanted, he had not seen her.

There was a moment where he lost you in the crowd of people. He did not know where you went off to and that worried him more so than his pride.

Anthony started frantically looking around the grounds for you, weaving through the crowd until he spotted you sitting on the bench under the willow tree.

You had always loved that spot and often times Anthony would catch you reading there. It was also the spot you were sitting in when the two of you confessed your love for each other for the first time.

He approached you silently and sat down a few inches away from you.

“I remember the first time I saw you. You had just arrived at the Queen’s ball with your mother and it felt as if time stopped. There was nothing, that tempted me to take my eyes off of you. I knew then that I wanted you and only you. You made me believe that marriage could be for love and for nothing else.” Anthony spoke.

Him recounting the night of your debut made your eyes well up with tears.

“I am afraid. I am afraid that you will want her again and I cannot go through that kind of pain. I love you with everything that I am and if I was not enough for you, it would be the death of me.” You confessed.

Anthony looked at you with slightly wide eyes, never having heard your concerns before. He blamed his past behavior on your fears knowing it was not an easy feat to love someone with his reputation.

He moved closer to you and took your hand in his. “I am also afraid.” He spoke. It was then you looked at him with eyes wide, never having heard the man you love he so vulnerable.

“I am afraid that I will not make you happy. That one day you will wake up and feel like some other man could make you happier.” He continued. “I do not think there is another man in this lifetime who will make me as happy as you do.” You said.

“I have not nor will I ever, see Siena again. You are the woman I love, the woman I cannot stop thinking about. It will always be you.” Anthony said. “She has always had such a strong hold on you, forgive me for being skeptical.” You muttered.

“Now the only woman who has a strong hold on me is you. And that is how it will stay.” He replied. “Do you promise?” You asked. “I promise.” He spoke without hesitation.

Anthony took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, Y/N. I always have and I always will.” He said. “I love you too.” You spoke. “And I’m sorry.” You added. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love.” Anthony replied.

“Your mama might think we have run off and abandoned our own celebration.” You commented. “That does sound rather tempting.” Anthony teased.

You stood up and held your hand out for his, which he took with a smile. If you would have told Anthony Bridgerton that he was about to get married and to the love of his life, he would have called you mad. But here he was, and couldn’t have been happier.

#imagine #imagines #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton imagine #daphne bridgerton

[estcaligo]

Sebek's ears

Sebek x gn!reader, with a bit of angst

"Sebek, put that down!" a worried shout pierced the room. Doctor Zigvolt dashed towards the boy, but it was too late - the child had already nicked his ear. It wasn't a serious injury, thankfully, but blood stained his son's ear, neck, shirt, and his mint hair.

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Zigvolt hurried into the room. "Darling, what's-...!!!" Her voice caught in her throat, turned into a scream of shock that thundered throughout the household, startling every bird in the vicinity into a flutter of panic, as if sensing an imminent danger. 

But there was no danger. Only blood. And tears. And a kid in front of a mirror with a kitchen knife in his hands.

"Sebek, let me take a look. You might get an infec- " Mr. Zigvolt tried to approach Sebek gently, but the boy pushed him away, sobbing loudly.

"This is your fault! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!! I HATE YOU!!!" Sebek cried out in despair, tears streaming down his sorrowful face as he ran past his parents. Mrs. Zigvolt could easily treat any wounds (it was one of the reasons she had been accepted to work at her husband's clinic despite lacking medical training), but now was not the time - Sebek wouldn't listen. So she just stood beside her spouse, watching their youngest son run away, not daring to break the silence. Words were unnecessary; they both understood. Sebek, despite being only 5, had already expressed a grand displeasure towards his human side. The destructive prejudice he had acquired not without help…

…

"A kitchen knife?... Back in Briar Valley, my grandfather would always look displeased whenever I entered the kitchen. So, I'm entirely unfamiliar with all cooking implements." Sebek said to the ghost chef.

"Oh? Why is that?" the chef asked.

"I have no idea... But he especially kept me away from sharp objects, like knives." he replied, examining the object in his hand.

"Well, mastering this skill is necessary for the course, so do your best!" the chef cheered, floating next to him.

"YES, CHEF!" Sebek boomed, making all the pans and pots shiver, and got back to cooking his dish.

…

It was rigorous but rewarding training, Sebek reflected, slowly washing his hands. Days spent in the kitchen were filled with various instructions and orders from the ghost chefs, requiring quick reactions, but due to their ghostly nature their words often faded, lingering in the air, so a regular human would have trouble hearing them. BUT NOT SEBEK ZIGVOLT. He had perfect hearing, his ears were sharper than...

…Sharper than what?....

He looked into the mirror of the Diasomnia dorm's bathroom, coming to wash away the smell and smudges from the Master Chef course. His face darkened once again as he lingered too long on his right ear. He remembered that day vividly. When he, a young and immature kid, tried to... tried to become a fae? Tired of being bullied by those around him, he believed that if he changed his ears - made them pointy like everyone else's - it would help him fit in. But now he understood how foolish it was.

Yet still. What makes a fae?  A pair of pointy ears? “Not necessarily” is what his mother always used to say Be blessed by night, but don’t forget about the day And remembers, and he knows No need in those Yet still.

A bitter feeling of unfairness washed over him as he was drifting off to sleep.

Why? Of all human qualities, why did he have to have round ears? He had asked himself this question a million times. And it wasn't as if he lacked fae qualities - his hearing surpassed any human's, and he could even hear and understand the fae language, something no human could do due to its nature. He possessed all these abilities, yet they were overshadowed by this small, bitter nuance - his appearance. Genetics had played a cruel joke on him, he thought. Despite his efforts, he will always look like a weak, useless human.

Speaking of weak humans.

You and Sebek had arranged to meet at the gates to head down to Foothill Town today. Rumor had it that the famous bookshop there had new arrivals, and you were eager to take a look. And since Sebek was so knowledgeable about books, you invited him along. Of course, it wasn't like he really wanted to go with you! He had far more important matters to attend to. However, he couldn't risk you selecting subpar books that you might later mention in conversations with Master Malleus - Sebek couldn't let your lack of discernment in literature reflect poorly on the Young Lord!! So, he was coming with you, for that reason alone, nothing more! … The road wasn't long, and once you arrived at the shop, you began browsing the shelves. The selection was vast: novels, scientific works, poems, historical texts, dictionaries, even books in languages you couldn’t understand. Unable to decide, you grabbed a handful of books that caught your attention and retreated to a quiet corner to examine your finds.

“Get on with this human, I don't have all day” he said, standing next to you, arms crossed.

“Ok ok, how about this one?”

"It looks fine. You can keep it, I suppose."

"Great! And this?" you showed Sebek another book, but he frowned slightly.

"It doesn't seem like a decent book to me. Better put it away."

"Why? It's about knights. What exactly do you dislike about it?"

"The cover doesn't look appealing. As if they didn't put much effort into designing it properly!" he declared loudly enough to draw a few judgmental glances from the other customers.

"And that's it?" you blinked at him. "But the plot itself must be good!"

"I've given my opinion, do as you wish, human!" he huffed, turning away.

"...Oh, Sebek. Never judge a book by its cover."

…

In the end, you purchased quite a few books (Crowley had been unusually generous this month, providing you with some extra money), and Sebek helped you carry them back to the Ramshackle. As a thank-you for accompanying you, you offered to share a cup of tea together and he agreed. 

...However, for the two of you, it was never just "having a cup of tea".

As usual, you found yourselves engrossed in intimate conversations, drawn close to each other.

Grim was absent, so it was just you and him on the couch in the spacious Ramshackle hall. Two cups of tea, long forgotten and gone cold, sat on the table.

Sebek rested his head on your lap, as he often did during your moments together, rambling about the books, his duties, or about Malleus, speaking quieter than his usual self. And you just patiently listened, knowing how hard he worked every day and wanting him to have some rest once in a while. The fact that he could relax in your presence made you genuinely happy.

Wrapped in serenity, you gently caressed his mint hair, occasionally running your fingers over his ears. You had grown accustomed to seeing them very clearly, as Sebek wore his hair swept back all the time. But when he was with you he sometimes let his hair loose and his ears became hidden amidst the soft waves of green, looking like two small islands surrounded by endless grassy seas. Or like curious animals peeking from the leaves. It was both adorable and endearing, and you couldn't help but giggle quietly. “Human! Is there a problem with your ears?! I’m talking to you!” Sebek’s loud voice brought you back from your daydreaming.

“Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment.” 

“Hmph! And what was so captivating that you ignored my question?”

“Oh... er... your ears” you smiled shyly.

“My... what?”

…

“Your beautiful, lovely, adorable ears" you laughed at his reaction, showering him with compliments before placing a kiss on his right ear - the one he had once tried to...

A wave of strange warmth suddenly flushed through his body. Why would you say such things about his terrible flaw?

All his life, people around him in his homeland had diminished him because of his round ears. On Sage’s Island, people just ignored this feature, so he assumed they wouldn’t comment on the obvious. But you? The way you touched them, the way you kissed them - without revulsion, without hesitation, without doubt.

For a moment, he felt something unfamiliar - like nothing else mattered. An unusual feeling, one he only experienced by your side. But he liked it.

Who cared if he didn't have pointy ears? Who cared about others' judgments?

You were right - only fools judge a book by its cover.

“Sebek, do you hear me?” you were the one asking this time.

“Yes. Yes, I can hear you very well, dear human” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

#yes i'm doing it #i really like this one #twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader #caligo's stories

[faerievampling]

Killing Time

Chapter 12: Beholden

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Tav (female reader)

Warnings: 18+. (light) Sub!Astarion. Symptoms of resulting trauma described, mention of past SA and abuse.

A/N: KT now updates every Sunday :)

Killing Time Masterlist

Link to AO3

When you fly out into the cool night air, the blackness of the night consumes you. Every flap of your wings, every chatter coming from behind you as Astarion flies at your heels, you feel that void of darkness. It makes you wince, and you’re back on your feet shortly after you’ve breached the palace walls. Being closer to the city lights helps ease that strange fear. When you land, you stumble forward, the pads of your bare feet slapping on stone.

You find yourself in the middle of the street, taking in the eerie emptiness of your surroundings. Astarion’s arm is around you before you can react further, pulling you behind a building as you both sense the thumping of a heart. But the curious thing here is that the city is quiet, far more than it should be.

“Star?” You whisper, but Astarion merely hushes you in reply. He holds you closely in the darkness, and you try to drown out the drum of Astarion’s own heart to focus on another: the mortal, a guard, walks rather close to the two of you, briefly inspecting the area. A quick look into his mind reveals the guard is thinking of his latest fuck and mug of ale, believing himself lucky he wasn’t put on the front lines. Those men on the front never see the women or the booze.

“The front lines?” Your words come out, blurted, reminding your doting husband that being sneaky was never your specialty.

“Hey!” The man shouts in your direction, running toward the sound of your voice. Breaking away from Astarion, you step out from the corner. The street is brightly lit, and you can see both the fear and amusement in the man’s eyes: he thinks you are a pretty thing, in your little panties, and he can see your nipples through your shirt. But your scars tell a dark story, one that frightens him: not to mention you jumped from around a bend, which would startle any mortal, especially in the dead of night.

The guard starts to scramble away, but you outstretch your hand to him, beckoning him to you.

“Be still, gentleman.” Your words of charm pierce through whatever layer of protection his weak mind ever had. He was yours, now. His heart thumps wildly in his chest, nearly stopping when Astarion turns the corner. But under your control, he continues to walk toward you.

Astarion’s taking off his own shirt, tying it around your waist to hide your pretty panties from this stranger.

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice harsh and snippy. You’re clearly testing his patience, but he can’t hide the curiosity: he’s letting you act out, you know.

“Listening,” You speak slowly. “Come here to me, Liam.”

The guard, Liam, eagerly approaches you. Seeing you close up, he’s even more frightened of you, thinking your gaze harsh and cold. He’s noticed your lack of breath, your lack of natural movement. Liam nearly loses control of his bowels as he comes to understand you are a creature of the night. But the pig of a man is still thinking about your nipples, despite this. You push those thoughts away, digging through his mind until you find the information you seek.

You’re thinking about asking Astarion if you could eat the man, or maybe you would do so without asking, just to see how he’d react – but Astarion grabs you by the arm before you can decide. “That’s enough, Tav. We’re going.”

In one quick motion, Astarion scoops you up in his arms, teleporting the two of you back into the foyer of the palace. After adjusting the both of you back in bed, Astarion’s questions begin.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Astarion’s voice hides nothing of his frustration.

“Yes,” You reply, trying to keep your voice even.”Was there a draft of mortal soldiers or something? Is the political situation in Faerun really so fragile?”

“It’s been that way for many years,” Astarion explains. “And has now come to a boiling point. But I don’t want you to worry about that.” Astarion’s habit -or staunch faith- of telling you only selective information based on the level of stress it may cause you hasn’t changed.

Seeing the concern on your face, Astarion softens, his irritation with you visibly waning by the second. “Please trust me on this, love.”

You nod involuntarily, because you are used to trusting Astarion’s judgment on what you should and shouldn’t worry about; you are still injured, after all. But you feel hesitant with your agreement, and Astarion must sense it too, because his face twists, the look so foreign to you it causes your gut to turn. He looks like he’s in pain.

He’s at a loss for words, and you are too. You feel yourself already wrapped up in Astarion’s tumultuous emotions, ones you can’t know anymore. Ones that you have to guess based on his body language, his words: and right now, you know there is something on the tip of his tongue that he cannot bring himself to say aloud.

You sit up in bed, crossing your legs as you peer down at him. You bring your hand to cup his cheek, softly run a fingertip down the length of his elegant ear, trailing little circles on his jaw and neck.

Astarion shudders, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. Your touch immediately soothes him, and when your fingers tickle against his chest, he holds your palm there, bringing it flat: resting it atop his ever-beating heart.

You don’t study his face for much long before deciding that you need to be closer to one another.

“Come here. Let me hold you,” You offer as you nudge him towards you. Astarion doesn’t hesitate: having widened your legs so that his larger form would fit comfortably, your arms snake around his body, your lips resting at the crown of his head. You can’t help but take a deep breath. “You smell so good...”

He chuckles in reply, nuzzling himself closer to you.

Your husband was taller than the average elven male, his shoulders broad and well shaped. It was only a little awkward to be holding him in this way, but Astarion is practically purring. You place kisses on the tip of his ear, causing an audible sigh of relief to escape his handsome lips.

His whimpers cause a stir between your legs. The way your cunt is clenching, little spasms of arousal overtaking your core, is impossible to ignore, and you can’t help but sweep your eyes over his perfect body, every part you could see. You want to worship it the way it deserves: the way Astarion wants you to.

You both are desperate for release in each other.

Suddenly, Astarion turns his head, shifting to your shoulder as he gazes up at you. You have to use your strength to hold him, but this feels good to you, for some reason. Cradling his warm body, feeling his muscles and his weight in your arms; he feels so good.

“I never meant to scare you so badly. I just wanted to touch you,” His expression and his words are almost boyish, bringing a youth to him that you haven’t seen in a very long time. He is so pretty; his ruby eyes are so soft, wet with gentle tears, lashes long and inviting. “I want you, my treasure. I need you…”

The two of you continuously search in each other's eyes, as if you’re expecting your minds to become one.

“Darling,” Astarion says, dragging your hand down his abdomen, resting it on the waistband of his underclothes. He doesn’t know how else to ask.

The moment your fingers slip beneath his underclothes, Astarion devolves into a fit of desperation: he moans, his hand grabbing your cheek to pull you into a passionate, fervent kiss. His tongue slips between your lips, the soft warmth of his muscle dancing along your own. He tastes so good, and he’s so warm. His kisses are needy, desperate; you feel the wetness of his cheeks as your lips transcend his, because you can’t hold yourself back anymore. You kiss him wherever you can, and Astarion can only soak it in.

Think of Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. He’s your husband, and you’re safe with him! So why are you thinking of that soulless drow and his evil master?

“Touch me,” Astarion says as he guides your hand to his cock, which you take in your palm, wrapping your fingers around his length. Astarion shudders as you begin to stroke him. You’re gentle, almost tentative, because you were hardly in control over Astarion’s body like this. But there is a look in his eyes: he wants this.

Two of your fingers and your thumb rubs at Astarion’s sensitive tip. It’s so pink, so swollen, pre-come already leaking from him. You pull back his foreskin, tenderly working the sensitive skin, making him writhe in your arms. Astarion can’t help but thrust into you, encouraging your motions.

Teasing him, you try to pull away, but Astarion doesn’t let you. He’s crying your name, desperate for your touch. In one swift movement, you take your finger, gathering his clear liquid seeping from the tip of his swollen cock. Astarion looks surprised when you bring your finger to his pretty lips, which he takes in his mouth. Tasting your skin and his own fluids, his gaze never leaves yours and eyes only grow hungrier.

You only take your finger from his mouth when you’re ready, kitten licking his tongue as you gently press down on it with a thumb, making him give you access to his mouth. Astarion’s entirely lost in his pleasure, his eyes hazy. The only words your poor husband can utter are pleadings, declarations of love, and your name.

“My love,” Astarion’s words come out rugged, rough, his voice cutting through his lust. “Please – I need you…”

Astarion grabs your wrist, guiding your hand back down to his throbbing cock. He wraps his hand around yours, guiding your hand so your strokes are quicker, faster, as his tongue plunges into your mouth, his fang catching your lip as he devours you.

The moment your crimson hits Astarion’s tongue, he goes mad. He really can’t get enough of you, and he nips at your lip again before bringing his mouth to your neck. He’s planted his hand behind you now, turned towards your body so you have better access to his cock, and he has better access to your neck. You know he’s about to bite through your sensitive flesh.

A snippet of a memory flashes before your eyes: red out of the corner of your eye. your limbs are numb. you push, but the red object does not relent, only further molesting you. his fangs feel like knives in your skin, flesh ripping. that searing pain– you’re able to push these thoughts away, shoving them into the recesses of your mind.

Before Astarion can bite down, your hand flies to his chin, pulling his attention back to your gaze. The way he looks at you is curious; you’ve caught him off guard, his face pulled into a gentle bewilderment, his pupils dilated in deep sexual desire.

“No,” You breathe, your lips almost brushing against his.

“No?” Astarion’s voice comes out quiet, breathless. His eyes are wide, desperate. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, and you know your deviation is greatly exciting him.

“No.” You confirm.“I bite you,” You say, your words sultry and smooth, causing your husband to let out a little moan. “Because you are mine.”

Your words come with an involuntary growl; the scent of Astarion’s arousal was thick in the air, the tension between you two becoming hotter by the second.

“I-“ He searches his words and your eyes, as if he would find them in you. “I’m yours?”

You release his jaw, moving to tease his sensitive tip with your fingers, spreading his slick down his shaft. “Yes. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You feel Astarion go slack in your arms; you’re holding his full upper body weight in your arm now, the other still stroking and toying with his cock.

“Y-yes, I’m yours, I’m yours…” He moans, your lips crashing into his. His cock is even more plump than before, the skin so tight and throbbing beneath your touch; your bodies are wet with sweat and pre-cum, which has pooled at his tip, spilling over the edge as it trails down his shaft.

“P-please, don’t stop,” He struggles to get his words out, his head filled only with pleasure and devotion.

You ease Astarion on his back, hovering above him as you continue your ministrations, every stroke causing him to tremble beneath you. His sticky, clear fluids coat your hand and his cock, only making your touch more slick.

“My pretty girl…“ Astarion begs, but before he can continue his whimpers and desperate pleadings, you straddle him, turning his head with your other hand before sinking your fangs into his flesh.

The sensation of his blood, the scent of his arousal in the air, the feeling of his cock in your hand: gods above. You pull yourself away from his neck in just enough time to watch Astarion squirm beneath you, his hands tangling in the ends of your hair. He’s holding onto you as if his life depends on it, his silver curls pushed back, lazily falling behind him on the silken covered pillow. He’s so beautiful, practically drooling beneath you, fangs peeking beneath his parted lips.

After just a few moments of gazing into your eyes, his sight trails down to your blood stained lips, then to your partially covered breasts. Then, you feel the twitch of his member in your hand as his sex convulses, spasms of pleasure erupting through his body.

Astarion’s shooting thick spurts of come, trailing down your hand as you keep stroking him, riding out his orgasm as you take his moans in your mouth, enveloping his tongue with yours, tasting the mix of his blood and saliva, languidly enjoying the taste of your husband. The smell of his seed is delicious to you, and you fight the urge to lap at his juices with an eager tongue.

You don’t stop your ministrations until he’s breathless, almost begging you to stop, but you continue to work your hand around the tip of his cock, squeezing out every last drop of his come. You don’t let him come up for air, because he doesn’t need it: he only needs you.

“I’m here now,” You whisper to him between languid kisses.

“Don’t make me beg for you anymore, I can’t take it,” Astarion’s words are filled with desperation. His soft moans continue throughout the night, the two of you unable to part until dawn.

****

Lae’zel closely studies the head of Geldon Moth. It was rather large, she thinks, larger than a regular dragonborn’s head. Other than its remarkable size, the sight is rather gruesome, more so than awesome.

“I expected nothing less from our Sarth,” Chae says from behind Lae’zel, where she stands with the other soldiers. “She was fearsome the day of the hunt.”

“I had expected you to say insane, but fearsome works.” Ziir’o adds, causing Chae and the others to giggle.

“Not just the day of the hunt. She’s ruthless even in training,” Joss says uneasily. “I don’t know how many times she’s knocked me out during a spar. Or encouraged someone else to knock me out.”

Lae’zel nearly laughs, but nothing could thwart her serious mood, deeply in thought as she ponders your kill. She thought it was a fitting trophy for the training quarters of the primary Ancunín estate, but again – the sight is more terrible than anything else.

“She literally smashed his fucking head in,” Ziir’o comments with a pride filled smirk. “Where's the rest of him?”

“Mere ash and bone, left in the dirt with his slaves.” Lae’zel’s voice is snippy, but it doesn’t deter the young gith.

“How many did she kill again before Astarion came and dashingly took his bride back to the safety of their gorgeous palace?” Marg’o asks, practically cooing over the thought of Astarion’s pure love for his wife. It was admirable to many, and the number of those who believed love makes the Ancuníns weak is rapidly declining, so maybe there was something to this romantic idea of Astarion, Lae’zel thinks.

Tsk, surely not. Still just a blood sucker. No different than a mosquito. But Lae’zel thinks you’re a rather pretty mosquito. Sometimes she wonders what you would think of her blood, of her taste. She remembers how your tongue felt gliding over her flesh, that soft velvet heat between her legs, and she wondered if you would be gentle with her as you slide fangs beneath her skin. She likes to think you would, just for her…

“A thousand,” Quinel states in a serious tone, but their sarcasm isn’t lost. The younger gith laugh as they way away, continuing on with their day, leaving Lae’zel to brood alone.

“Hmm.” Lae’zel wasn’t sure if this was the right decision. The night of your rescue, after Astarion sent her and the others through the portal, Lae’zel had found the man’s head in the woods; this would only be one of the many other things Lae’zel would come to find quite interesting on this day.

The museum was certainly not safe for anyone to go in, but that hadn’t stopped Lae’zel, who carefully slid through the rubble. She needed to see everything again. Finding so many well preserved old relics dumbfounded her, and she had quickly made her way back to Astarion’s office with whatever she could recover.

She sat at Astarion’s desk shortly after retreating from the broken estate. She had done this many times before your victory, having set up in the Ancunín palace more often than not since she arrived.

Lae’zel can’t look at the dragonborn’s head anymore; she’d rather bury herself in her work, which happened to be on Astarion’s desk.

Now, as Lae’zel eases her way into the luxurious, comfortable chair, she finds that hidden compartment locked away in Astarion’s desk. The same one she found the day of the estate scouting. Her discovery hadn’t really surprised her: it was merely a stack of old letters, ones from Halsin, Gale, Wyll, Shadowheart…many from names she didn’t recognize, all addressed to you. Some of them were so old the pages were yellow, nearly crumbling in Lae’zel’s hands; it was clear they had once been sheltered, at least for a time, before hidden in the depths of Astarion’s desk.

Every single one is unopened.

****

You know you’re dreaming before you even take in the whole scene: your body is floaty, weightless and numb. You can feel the aura of light surrounding you, uplifting your body as you open your eyes and look up, meeting Angel’s gaze.

You’re on your back, grass tickling your exposed skin. Angel is propped on his elbow, peering down at you. One of his wings is wrapped around the two of you, shielding you from the sun.

“It was, like, way too difficult for me to share your dream with you,” Angel’s voice is softer than usual. “I think I deserve a bit of compensation for my efforts~”

Angel’s looking at your lips, his handsome smile cutting into you only a bit. “You’re so pretty, Mrs. Ancunín.” There’s a dreamy look in his eyes as he meets your gaze.

“What do you want?” You demand, ignoring his flirting.

“I could ask you the same thing. You ultimately did let me in here, after all. And trust me, I’ve tried every time you’ve gone to sleep!” Angel explains. “Which has been a lot, so I imagine you want to ask me about that silver. I wondered when you would.”

“I think you were offering.”

“I was. And I still am!” Angel says, rolling over on his back before he swings himself to a seat, crossing his legs as his fingers pull at the grass. You follow suit, sitting up to face him. Looking around, you notice you are close to a sandy beach, one just ways off from the grass.

“I smelled it on you. The grass and the ocean.”

“Yeah, duh. I wanted you to so you’d like me.” Angel looks down. He almost looks uncertain. “There are things I want from you. But…”

Angel pauses. His gold and ruby eyes meet yours.

“The red doesn’t suit you, you know.” You cross your arms. You have a sense of strong dejavu coming over you, thinking of your ex-githyanki lover, who wholly disapproved not only of your newfound warlockracy but of your red eyes. Red eye, now. Just one. But Lae’zel probably doesn’t like the gold, either.

Angel laughs, bringing his muscled arms above him in a stretch before placing his palms to the ground behind him. His abs tighten, and you see his cock growing, thick and pulsating between his thighs.

Why the hells does he always have to be naked!?

“Stare all you want, girl. Say the word and it’s yours,” Angel purrs with lust filled eyes, hooded and wanting.

You roll your eyes. “Just tell me what you want.”

Angel sighs. “I have to think about it. For now, I can create a sealant,” He explains. “It will help with the pain and fatigue, at the very least. I can feel it in your body, you know.”

You shake your head, ignoring that last part. You can also sense his wellness, but you don’t want him to know that, because you know he’ll be weird about it. “They’ve already tried that.”

“None of them are me, Mrs. Ancunín! And I’ll do it for free…if you kiss me and accept your boon~”

You give him a deadly stare. You are trying to decide: you fought with the silver on, so it’s certainly possible to get this vague ‘task’ done with it, but Angel said you needed the boon for the task. Of course, he won’t say what the boon is or precisely why you need it; but the silver is rather bothersome. It was a constant ache, a chronic pain and reminder of the suffering you experienced. You want the damn thing off.

You’re surprised when Angel’s face drops, his smile devolving to a smirk. You stare at each other like this for some time. Angel is the one to break the silence, his eyes still locked into yours.“You’re like…a yellow watermelon, you know. Ever had one of those?”

You shake your head. “I only really like to -”

“Drink blood, yeah, I got it,” Angel looks away for a moment, that smirk briefly leaving his face. “Yellow watermelons are sweeter, lighter on the tongue. Something about your nature…you're a vampire, the very definition of temptation and desire. But you walk in the sun, you have a reflection. Your soul isn’t as tainted as you would think.”

Angel pauses as if in deep thought. “It’s almost as if you didn’t sacrifice seven thousand souls to Mephistopheles.”

You don’t know what to say. The seven thousand hardly mattered to you now, and you aren’t sure they ever did. Probably not, you think, because you were here and not six-feet under. You would have died long ago had it not been for Astarion’s gift of eternal life, and you would have left him to walk this earth alone: just the thought makes you feel nauseous.

“Anyways, your sexual energy is amazing. The lust and love you feel for Astarion is absolutely delicious, so refined,” Angel’s face is, suddenly, suspiciously close to yours, and you wonder how he got so close. “I could taste your desperation for him when we kissed. I want to kiss you more, now.”

Angel's face moves even closer to yours, but you bring your fingers to his lips, stopping him. Angel grabs your wrist, pressing your hand to his lips more firmly, kissing your fingertips.

“Mmm,” Angel moans into you before you bring your hand away. His smile is back. “Your skin is so soft…but that doesn’t really count, you know. I want your lips to touch mine, you cute little daywalker!”

Angel’s lips are plump, so soft looking and pink. It would be easy to kiss him again: he’s a beautiful man. But Astarion’s earlier words echo in your mind: “Please don’t, Tav.”

You take a deep breath. Closing your eyes, blocking out all other thoughts, you tell Angel to do it.

“Finally! C’mere, girl.” Angel grabs you, your body already trembling as you’re in the hands of this large, foreign man. Angel’s wings surround you, and he grabs your chin, lifting your head to his. You feel manhandled, despite Angel’s gentle touch. He wasn’t forceful or aggressive, but firm: but it’s like your brain doesn’t know the difference.

“Open your eyes, beautiful. I wanna gaze into them, make you want me,” Angel is amused and aroused; his voice is laced with a lust filled huskiness, one he intends for you to know.

Your teeth chatter, your body deciding to freeze rather than run or fight. You’re sucking air into your undead lungs. “I don’t want to…just do it, alright?” Truthfully, you don’t think you can stop shaking even if you tried.

There is a long pause. Angel’s hold on you relaxes, but he makes no motion to let you go. “Why are you afraid?”

You don’t answer, because you don’t really know what to say, but you feel a level of relief once Angel’s put you back on your feet, freeing you from his wings and his grasp. His hand is still gently resting on your chin. For just a moment, you feel the brush of his warm, soft lips on your cheek.

“Until next time, girl~”

Angel’s world fades to black, and you slip back into your unconscious mind before waking with a jolt. You immediately notice your lack of pain, the burning sensation having subsided entirely. You feel strong, glorious, powerful; when Astarion jumps beside you, in motion at the first sign of your consciousness, and you wonder if he ever went to sleep at all.

You bring yourself to a straddle above him, a smile spread across your face. You see wisps of pink around Astarion; they dance around his face, his chest, becoming a deeper hue at the center of his chest. His eyes practically gleam, even making their crimson appear lighter. Love.

“Ha! Oh shit. I love you too, my sweet husband.”

tag list: @viowolf

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #ascended astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #soft ascended astarion #ascended astarion x female reader #ascended astarion x you #lord astarion #spawn tav #vampire tav #Killing Time

[saleeba]

you look good in red and white ; william saliba

summary ♡ new year celebrations back home prove to be a handful but william tries his best to help you out.

pairing ♡ william saliba x bengali!fem!reader

content ♡ fluff, husband!william, reader is stresseddd and just needs a sit-down tbh, bengali words/terminology, reader is mentioned as having siblings, y/c/n = your cousin’s name, y/s/n = your sibling’s name, kissing, willo being the bestest husband ever !!!!

a/n ♡ arsenal football club are so bengali-coded pass it on 💯💯 ok so red & white are super traditional & prevalent in bengali culture + they’re ofc arsenal’s colours so i connected the dots 🤓☝🏽 (you didn’t connect shit ;-;) hehe anyway it was bengali new year this time last weekend & what better way to belatedly celebrate it than with a short and sweet wilo fic :D happy bengali new year / shubho noboborsho & i hope u all (bengali or otherwise!) enjoy this one !! ❤️🤍

“william! here, try this for us!”

no sooner than he had stepped a sandal-clad foot into the kitchen, you’re there shoving a chomchom into william’s mouth, the poor boy immediately being startled by your shouting and the manic running around of your siblings and cousins — not to mention the softly sweet intrusion his mouth experiences at the hands of his wife.

william had decided to escape the company of your dad and uncles once the mid-morning conversation turned to politics, knowing how chaotically passionate the men in your family get once the topic of current events gets brought up, in search of your comforting company in what’s the first time you’ve taken him back home in your relationship, never mind for such an important festivity. bengali new year in your motherland just hit differently and you wanted william to be fully immersed in every part of the extravagancies that your heritage brought to help pop his bengali culture cherry. unfortunately, being one of the “older younger” members of the extended family, you had taken it upon yourself to be at the forefront of all the festive tasks which meant that the new year wasn’t going to be quite the relaxed and enjoyable shared time either you or william had been thinking of. 

although, admittedly, he shouldn’t have been so surprised at the utter carnage unfolding in the kitchen since every single one of your relatives was up at the slightest sliver of dawn today, rushing about the residence to begin the pressing yet procrastinated matter of setting up decorations, preparing the food and creating the most stunning of placards for the neighbourhood’s parade; all before one in the afternoon. the hubbub was so sweeping that william had missed a good morning kiss from you — having gotten up so early to denote roles to your younger relatives in the food preparation — and he hadn’t even seen you at the brief breakfast the family had managed to slip into the schedule, making him miss your presence way too much than was allowed in his terms. it was quite definitive of your relationship that you had essentially found him before he had seen you, rushing over in an outfit that william had never seen you in — a red and white shari wrapped around your body, gold jewellery adorning nearly every possible inch of you, the tinkle-tinkle of your anklets melodically ringing in his ears as you make your way over. it all takes his breath away regardless.

“how is it, huh?” you anxiously enquire, taking a quick bite of the sweet yourself, cheeks filling with the spongey sugary goodness as it muffles your voice. “we spent forever making the mix, first it was too soft then too hard, and then y/c/n accidentally dropped it on the floor then we had to argue about what the shape was gonna be and th–”

your stressed-out rambling causes william to laugh, taking the remainder of the chomchom from you and popping it into his mouth before telling you that it’s delicious and there is no reason to worry about it.

“i can give you a hand, y’know? i’m not that bad in front of dough.” he teases, offering to take some load off you and your appointed kitchen team for the day. 

you’re quick to refuse, knowing there are quite literally hundreds of sweets and snacks needed to be made in a short amount of time to share throughout the neighbourhood and you don’t want his new year experience to be tainted with the interfamilial arguments that are sure to ensure within these here four walls over the next few hours.

“you should save yourself and rest before we set out for the parade, will, before we fully make you into our mishti guinea pig.” you usher him as best as you can towards the kitchen door and into the courtyard. “besides, i don’t want to be getting a strongly worded text from mikel for fattening you up too much for your job.” 

another chuckle from your husband, who accepts, setting off to lend his hand in something else that isn’t getting in the middle of flour and sugar being haphazardly thrown around. 

he finds himself in the company of some of your youngest cousins who assign him the role of batter in an impromptu game of cricket in the courtyard, taking the time to teach him all the techniques of a nationally beloved sport that he’s a complete novice in. after a couple of attempts of trying to understand the rules but giving up, his side nonetheless win the game and your baby cousin pipes up with the notion that william is now a “true bengali”, which makes your husband’s heart glow with affection for this new family of his.

the chattering and rushing of a group of yourself and some other cousins as you all pass through the courtyard pulls at his attention, intently watching as a number of you scramble around tables set up for the food and pace back and forth behind them and the kitchen, carrying what seems to be enough snacks to feed the whole country, never mind the neighbourhood. william can see the tension etched onto your face, brows nearly crossed over into a v-shape, and he so badly wants to step in and tell you to sit down for at least a minute but he knows the tasks at hand are more pressing and you really want to get this right for him, your family and the neighbours. he decides that he’ll have to remedy your stress once it’s actually appropriate to do so. 

another hour or two follows before the lack of you gets to william, now missing your presence by his side so much that he’s pacing around the house like a madman, dipping into every room and asking whoever he stumbles into where your whereabouts may be. william was damn near about to start shouting your name from the rooftop before an aunt of yours points him towards the direction of the garden where you’re there by yourself, hastily brushing vivid paint over the sketched-out placards for the parade very, very last-minutely. you don’t even have to look up to know that it’s your lover who’s rushing towards you.

“god, it’s all going on today, isn’t it?” you speak before he can and try to place some humour in an otherwise extremely stressful situation, not even finding the time to take your eyes off the painting to look at william while explaining what’s going on. “y/s/n cut their finger and everyone else is so busy so i have to finish these and get them dried in…” you press your phone to check the time. “... 20 minutes.” yeah, you’re somewhat fucked right now. 

“and who said you have to do it by yourself?” william rhetorically quizzes you; a mild scolding for bearing so much stress on yourself. “y/n, when’s the last time you sat down or even stopped your feet from running about the house? babe, i thought this was supposed to be a time when we both celebrated together, right? so why don’t we work together, too, yeah?”

you go to refuse him again and tell him to get ready for the parade with the rest of your family but william is having none of it.

“pass me a brush, please,” he softly demands with a sigh, hand outstretched as you eventually accept what he’s been saying to you since the morning and give him the tools he needs to help you finish the painting. you find yourselves completing it in more than half the time, leaving you plenty of time to fan them over to dry.

you turn to william, wanting to thank him for gently knocking some sense into you but getting instantly distracted when you finally allow yourself to take your husband in and appreciate him. you’re in awe of how extra handsome your husband looks in your culture’s traditional attire: a red and white panjabi set to match your shari, the golden handpainted motifs and embroidery sparkling against the rich colours of the cotton material.

“there, see, we finished it together! teamwork isn’t that bad, is it?” he teases and you respond with a tiny jab of your elbow on his side and a light laugh. “ah, hang on…” 

he turns you to fully face him and points out that your red teep is slightly off-centre between your eyebrows, raising his hand to fix it while the other rests on the side of your face. your heartbeat picks up a little faster over his warm touch that you’d been missing for so many hours and the peek of his tongue out in concentration practically has hearts swirling in your eyes. 

“there we go.” the way he smiles down at you tugs tenderly at your heartstrings and you can’t help but nearly smash your lips against his, the established habit of getting on your tiptoes to caress your alta-adorned hands along his broad shoulders helping to propel yourself into his embrace. william kisses back with all the might of a lover being starved of his wife’s touch for far too long.

a sudden call of your names quickly breaks the two of you apart, your aunt turning the corner towards you both with a camera waving in her hand and shouting something about taking a big family photo in front of the house before setting off. you and william are far too flustered to really comprehend what she’s saying before you’re wiping at your own mouths to rid yourselves of the red-stained evidence of your lipstick. your husband is about to take off behind your aunt to avoid any more time-wasting but you’re quick to grab his hand and pay him a greatly overdue compliment. 

“oi, you look good in red and white.” 

glossary of bengali terms ♡

chomchom = a milk-based bengali sweet.

shari = traditional clothing worn by bengali women; other languages may call it a "saree/sari".

mishti = bengali word for "sweet(s)".

panjabi = traditional clothing worn by bengali men.

teep = a small coloured dot/jewel worn between the eyebrows/on the forehead; you may see it being called a "bindi".

alta = red dye traditionally painted onto the hands and feet of bengali women during festivals and celebrations.

#william saliba #william saliba imagine #william saliba fluff #william saliba x reader #william saliba x fem!reader #footballer imagine #football imagine #football fic #footballer fluff #when the cool tones of ur first pic don’t match with the warm tones of ur 2nd and 3rd ones KYS . anyway #also posting this knowing full well i most probably have zero bengali readers lmao u write what u wanna read tho innit . ANYWAY #big up uncle titi for the title reference 😌 #i hope i kept it regionally & religiously neutral so my bengali babes from any background can enjoy !! 🫂 #+ used shuddho/standard bengali just to keep a generalness and not to denote a specific dialect/language to the reader soooo yeah!! #reader isnt necessarily a shuddho bangla speaker ^_^ #thats the trouble with bengali ppl we are sooooo diverse it's a struggle to try n make sure everyone is included 😅 i luv us so much tho <33 #˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 7

Gloom Hands

This goes out to the way I cackled hysterically once seeing these things in TOTK, well done Zelda Team. They're a terrifying concept and I really feel exploring that could be fun, even if this prompt gave me a headache and a half.

Bit late today because we've been pelted by way too many storms/lightning and writing on mobile with lightning shaking your house is generally a bad idea, so I spent most of the time writing this and the Linktober prompt by hand, then transcribing it back onto mobile as soon as I could touch eletronics without the major risk of being zapped and picking a god and praying that my internet wouldn't be too funky so I could get it out on time. Short one again though because I still need to finish the Linktober prompt so it should come out later today or fully tomorrow, sorry folks.

Anyway, as always can be read as romantic or platonic, also Sage is here both because of the prompt and because the mental image of Wild Reader and Sage trauma bonding over the extremely twisted nature Gloom/the Malice have compared to just dark magic in general in LoZ was too funny to resist, if Nintendo won't talk about the many variations of Dark Magic in LOZ and how it affects any who come in contact with it then lord darn it I guess I'll just have to do it myself (or as much as I can without breaking out the companion essay to the Realm of Darkness and Realm of Light essay which I'm already having trouble digging out).

TW:

Technically graphic descriptions of decay, gore and eldritch horror, and Reader just not having a good day in general, don't recommend reading I'd you're highly squeamish.

When you’ve first met Sage, as the Chain temporarily dubbed him, you and Wild didn’t miss the way he looked so, so haunted. Emotions warring like a storm as he looked Wild over in a mix of disbelief and the weariness of a wounded fox getting ready to bite just to escape, at the Chain with such longing ache that made one’s heart break, the way the first time he met Wolfie he didn’t hesitate to throw himself atop the canine and hug him so close like he was trying to melt into the fur, and looking at you like he didn’t know wether to cry, scream or to shut down before he buried it under the mask you knew your resident Champion could use when trying so desperately to keep it together, hands shaky as he signed in a way that set your teeth on edge and felt like you had taken a dozen of ice arrows to the back, urgent, 'It’s not safe. None of you should be here. You need to leave. Now.'

Needless to say it was alarming, even as you all knew just how ferociously untamed his and Wild’s Hyrule could be, with being overrun with so, so many types of divinity through each crack, root, drop and flesh of it’s beings. From Hylia’s cold calculating care, the Three Goddesses blood, tears and breath of life, to the Malice’s howling self sustaining fury, The Lost Woods ever overgrowing freedom and even the remnants of the Fierce Deity’s hunt in Satori’s and Malaniya's savage display of cyclic eternity, it wasn’t any surprised that apart from the Traveler’s Hyrule it was the most aggressive one with the smorgasbord of energy so thick it made even you choke on it everytime you stepped foot in it. Beautiful and free in an echo of it’s once untamed state in the age of myth even before Sky.

Over time, you and the Chain learned how to adapt to it. To listen to the warnings Wild gave about the Guardians and about the remains of Malice in his monsters, of how the moon had been forever tainted with it and how, until Sheikah tech was fully repurposed it would be best to avoid the castle all together it was difficult but manageable, and even if Sage’s reaction was alarming (and he seemed even more troubled once Wild passed onto him from Sky that, while he wasn’t to come with them yet due to how things were apparently ‘fated’ to happen, there was no way you all could leave quite yet, distantly sticking by Wild and Twilight when possible and checking on everyone’s health when not doing so), you’d though it would be much the same for his own, and in parts you were right as the Chain had taken to the new environment like fishes to water even if it took some adjustments.

Though you were quickly proven wrong, and you could have laughed at your past self’s naivety.

It was meant to be a quick run to clear a black blooded monster camp, and while decently challenging, it was over quickly between the Chain getting more apt at fighting the enemy, Sage’s addition as the man fought as ruthlessly and ferociously as Wild, switching between deadly marksmanship and feral combat on a dime and the absence of the unnaturally inteligent black scales lizalfos, you’d rest and be on your way quickly. Or so you all thought.

Twilight had been the first to smell it, the bubbling of dark but distinctively twisted magic, even more so than Zant’s brand of madness. Wild the one to spot it, the rot black and blood crimson building up at the edges of camp from his vantage point but it was Sage who had tensed, eyes snapping to the faint glow the Master Sword emmited just as the sky darkned before his frantic, alarmed howl swept over the Chain, the sheer desperate, protective panic making all of your boys still, because Sage never used his voice unless he absolutely had to, “IT'S NOT OVER! MOVE!”

It was all the warning any of you got before reality twisted, straining, and then finally screaming, the heavens staining with crimson as if gutted open, the eyes of a sin against nature itself cutting through your relief and infecting your veins with terror. It shakes you to the core, freezing with indecisive flight or fight as you spotted the tide. Heart in your throat as you tried to comprehend what you saw.

“WHAT THE-“, Legend cursed, looking ashen as his grip on his fire rod tightened. Really, all of your heroes look disturbed and you can’t blame them.

“Get to high ground if you want to live! We can’t fight these things.”, snapped Sage, much more composed, but no less frenzied.

None of you hesitate to listen.

(There were some unspoken rules, when in Wild’s Hyrule the first time around. If there is something the Champion, the most reckless of all Links, wasn’t willing to fight head on or said wasn’t worth it, the best course of action was to listen, specially if the group was vulnerable.)

The hands screech, the tide rolling over the land with an reality splitting clamoring, a sound so filled with fury and so, so twisted it made your Hylian’s ears friends bleed and you lift a hand to your head in pain as Wild pulled you along, Sage leading the charge for the nearest cliff face as Warrior’s threw Wind over his shoulders and Twilight didn’t hesitate before doing the same to Four, the frost from Legend and bomb arrows from Time and Sky barely doing nothing to slow it’s relentless charge, merely taking from it a distorted, pitched crescendoing belt of pure rage and the overlaying of many tortured souls screaming all at once, of Hyrule rejecting this existence from the world but wounded at being unable to vanquish it, the sound it makes as it spreads and drags itself across the ground with uncanny speed with it’s many, many arms like something in between sludge and smacking, wet, rotten flesh.

Sage switches between shooting arrows to helping the other Links up the cliff and shooting at it’s eyes with the strongest bow he has,making as many arrow fusions on the spot as he dares. The others quickly taking as many ranged weapons from their sides to do the same. You help Hyrule up the clifface, while Wild swipes Cryonis over the field, climbing up himself, being hauled to Sage’s side.

You are almost there when one of the hands latch onto your ankle, and you go down with a scream, Sage all but dropping the bow in his hand in favor to latching onto your hand with snarl. And

It.

Is.

Agony.

(It burns through you like your very atoms have been set on fire,bthe hands take the opportunity to sink into you, long long unnatural fingers sinking into your flesh in a unhurried blanket of darkness, the Demon King’s will is roaring, growling with abyssal rage, if it cannot rule Hyrule, it would kill everything in it instead. Gloom sinks into your cells, raptures the membranes and makes the skin slip, frantically invading, you taste rotten flesh on the back of your throat and the scent of wither and ash choke you as it sinks into your flesh, marrow, breaks down your bones bit by bit, cracking and infecting and breaking down your very essence with the fury of a dead deity which refused die, decay on an accelerated rate all over where the hands clutched like a vice as the Links trunfo pull you out or attack it and it is painful and it’s excruciatingly wretched and make it STOPCEASEITHURTS-)

A well aimed Skyward Strike severs the connection, the pain stops and you fall into Sage, breathing hard and unevenly, grasping at him like a lifeline, clawing and counting at Wild’s arm on your other side like a wounded animal, your taste blood on your throat from the screams that were ripped from it, Hyrule falling to his knees on your side as healing magic washes over you like a shroud, trying to get you to respond.

Reality howls along with you, before all is silent.

It barely took a second.

“... Just what were those things?”, rasps Sky, horrified, a sentiment echoed through the Chain, though you can’t focus on it, trying not to choke on your own blood and to pull yourself together, Wild’s hand unconsciously settling on your pulse, shaking, and Sage’s tense tone cuts through the air as he scans the area. Still tense, tone hoarse.

“... The reason why I wanted you to leave.”

Later, much, much later, before you all leave, you learn they are called Gloom Hands.

It’s unanimously agreed that all you hold loathing for those abominations, even long after you’re forced to leave Sage.

He whispers something to Wild on the way out, hugging him close, trembling. Your Champion nods, you can’t make out the words, but you make sure to hold him as close as you can before you go, indulge him in checking for your pulse even long after you’re healed.

You hope he’ll be safe, he hopes that the next time you all see each other again, it’ll be under better circumstances.

#linked universe x reader #linked universe wild x reader #linked universe sage x reader #Does Sage know more than he lets on? Absolutely. Will he ever talk about it? Probably not. #Up to interpretation what Sage told Wild because it's very intentional that no one but him hears it #Yes I threw the Chain right in the middle of his adventure just to cause future worry and trauma lol #Just saying. The Gloom Hands are as much a living being as they are an infection upon the living land that is Hyrule #None of the aspects of Hyrule like it and the people in it much less. #Due to the many faces of Dark Magic in LoZ not even people connected to it are down for it in this essay I will- #I have a lot of thoughts about it in my mind and headcanons to try and fill in the gaps but sadly the storm kept me from addressing it #Also shout out to the ask about my thoughts on it. #I apologize for the wall of text you shall receive once I'm actually well rested enough because 'tis a long one #but just thinking about it helped me dive into this prompt with all the vigor of a possessed victorian widow #after inheriting her husband's state #I have way too many thoughts about the nature of Hyrule and the lore and connections behind it's magic lol #summer writes linktober shadow 2023 #summer writes

[thislotuseater]

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

#shout out to nicolle for helping me out with these #ted lasso #tedbecca #rebecca welton #hannah waddingham #the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #ted x rebecca

[je11y-f1sh]

step right up to hear the little mermaid flower husbands au

i watched the live action today. i loved it and it reminded me of them. big shout out to @catboy-scott-agenda and @omvimo for helping me figure this bad boy out <3

so first: jimmy is the mermaid, but instead of being beautiful, he’s a bit of a weird looking creature

pretty after you get a good look, but fundamentally weird looking nonetheless

lizzie and jimmy are seablings still; their parents were killed by people on the surface and as his older sibling she tells him to be wary of humans and stay away from the surface if he can help it.

nature wives is canon in this au because of course they are!! they are the role of sebastian and flounder but not sebastian and flounder yaknow. like somewhat of an equivalent

xornoth is the equivalent of ursula, however instead of him being related to the other mermaids, he was cursed to become one. he was not born as a mermaid; scott is still his brother

PRINCE SCOTT!!!

he comes off as normal but he’s also just a freak

he meets jimmy when he’s still a mermaid and instead of being put off by the scales and the slimey exterior, he’s like “yeah this is exactly what i want in a man”

they have a bit of a thing even before jimmy gets transformed

scott leaves poppies by the ocean for jimmy <3

(jimmy eats them) (scott is hiding behind a rock. while watching jimmy eat the flower he decide he will marry this man)

jimmy becomes human and his cursed to lose his voice, which is a big issue because jimmy is a little chatterbox

he becomes human and woah this is scott’s first time seeing his full height and wow was he this tall the whole time and scott just didn’t know????

after the conflict resolves, lizzie has more issues with them being together, but not for any actual reason! it’s more like

lizzie: ‘you’re jimmy’s boy toy right’ scott: ‘yeah’ lizzie: ‘why. he’s pathetic’

#empires smp #empires season 1 #empires au #flower husbands #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #shout out to the nature wives hivemind for helping me come up with this one

[kris-mage-fics]

An Unlikely Engagement

A little fic I wrote for Shepherds of Haven based on this Tumblr post.

Someone is surprised to find out the kind and friendly Hero of Haven is engaged to the cold and distant Commander Bronwyn. (There is a very, very light spoiler for Chapter 8. So I'm putting the preview and the Ao3 link under the cut.) Edit: I'm sorry I forgot to thank @emeraldgreaves for posting a meme in the discord server that inspired a small part of this! Thanks for the extra inspiration, Em!

“What can I do for you, Finn?” Commander Kyrahlise Niriviel watched the recruit who sat on the other side of her desk shift in their chair. She could almost taste the nervous energy rolling off of the young Mage who’d requested a meeting. About what she wasn’t sure. Apparently Finn hadn’t been forthcoming with Shery when the meeting was set up. 

They shifted again before taking a deep breath. “So I’ve been having a problem – maybe it’s more of a situation – with my…” An unmistakable sharp knock on the office door interrupted them.

“Do you mind if I take this?” Finn shook their head, though they seemed confused. A lot of recruits were surprised by her personable demeanor. She flashed a smile in thanks then projected her voice towards the door. “Yes?”

Blade opened the door before he silently strode into the room, face cool and impassive. His glance quickly moved past the person seated across from her. When his eyes found hers, warmth seeped into his gaze. His voice was tinted with gentleness when he spoke. “Kyrahlise.” The way he said her name was a hidden message of affection for her alone. It never failed to make her feel comfortable, loved, and safe. “There is a matter I need your assistance with. It’s not urgent, but it’s best if we handle it today. Are you free for lunch? My afternoon is spoken for.”

You can find the rest here on Ao3!

#I saw a post here and thought “Blade and MC after they get engaged” then had to write this #vague spoilers for Chapter 8 #did I tweak things to get it exactly 700 words? yes #gods I'm so glad this is finally out of “just needs a little more editing” hell lol #I have so many things in the works for everyone else Kyrah is romancing in different timelines! #shout out to my husband for being the best beta reader and editor ever! I've grown so much because of his help! #shepherds of haven #shoh #blade bronwyn #oc: kyrahlise niriviel #fanfic #ao3 #excerpt from my writing

[simnostalgia]

#original #thank you #very cool and helpful #I always get a few of these every time I talk about marketing #shout out to the boomer lady simmer who got mad when I was like “historically sims games are played more by women” and her evidence was #that her husband played the sims #I fucking give up

[miniimoose]

@spacegoathours drew Min for me (here) and gave me permission to ink and colour it! So here is our little colab piece :)

#spacegoathours #@spacegoathours #irken oc #invader zim oc #iz oc #invader zim #iz #irken #scout min #Scout Min #Min #min #shout out to my husband for helping me figure out goggles #70% of the time i spent on this was just drawing and redrawing goggles #all different types #ended up being like ok i have to stop this is good enough #also shout out to catyclept for looking at the goggle WIPs #moose art