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tragedybunny · 5 months

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Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold Part 2- Astarion x F!Reader

Part 1 here

Hello lovelies! It's part two of the wedding fic I published some time back! I love these two and I'm excited to share the next steps on their journey.

Reader and Astarion have a conversation the morning after their wedding that lays bare some secrets of the past.

The unexpected scent of bacon wakes you, and you roll over to sit up. You cringe, feeling a bit of soreness, well everywhere, but especially between your legs from the activities between you and your new husband last night.

Husband. That brings you back to bacon. Neither of you were all that competent in the kitchen, and you found your curiosity piqued. Your eyes spot a nightgown you'd left draped across a chair, as though you'd ever had any chance of wearing it last night.

You're just slipping it over your head to go investigate when the bedroom door opens and your aforementioned husband enters, a tray of bacon, eggs, fruit, and warm tea in his hands, and warmth dancing in his crimson eyes.

“So you can walk this morning,” he gives you a toothy grin, the tips of his fangs adorably peaking out from between his lips.

“What a lewd way to greet your wife,” you feign irritation and settle back on the bed.

“My humblest apologies,” he delivers the tray to your waiting lap and makes himself comfortable at your side, “my love.”

“I suppose that's acceptable,” you turn and catch his lips in a quick kiss before setting your attention on the tray before you: perfectly crispy bacon, fried eggs with the yolk still slightly soft, buttered toast, your favorite red berries in a small bowl, and a warm mug of strong tea. It’s he perfect breakfast you'd order at any inn when the two of you traveled. “How did you manage all this?” You ask, bacon already halfway to your mouth.

“What? Are my abilities in the kitchen in question?” He puffs and you stare him down, the playful rhythm you two know so well. “Fine. I have been listening when Gale goes on about cooking. And practicing when I get a chance here and there. The love of my life deserves the best.”

You take a sip of tea, the perfect amount of honey sweetens it. “I already have the best. I have you, Astarion. And I love you so very much.”

“I love you too, but do try not to make me cry again this morning, darling. I already did that enough in front of everyone last night.”

Snuggled into your side, head resting on your shoulder, he doesn't make eating easy, but that hardly matters. Fingers idly trace your thighs, hip, and stomach, while you chat about your wedding last night. You can tell there's a cloud hanging over you both now, though, and there are things that need to be brought out into the open. Finally, when you finish, you set the tray on the bedside table and let Astarion wrap himself around you, resting his head on your chest. “About what you were able to see last night,” no use delaying it.

He makes a soft hum against your skin, a noise you know means he’s thinking about what exactly to say. Fingers stroke through his curls as you give him a moment, there’s no rush, Today is just for the two of you. “You know, Cazador used to pass us off as either servants or distant relatives, usually he’d wait a few years, then we would switch parts. It made it easy to spy on the other nobles. Of course, I usually got stuck playing servant as a punishment. He’d loan us out to other houses to assist with their large events. He sent me to spy on a girl, some noble's daughter, at her sister’s wedding. Lucky thing married the only cousin left of the Vanthampur’s. When the dear old Duke and her offspring met their end, she inherited everything, and her husband is more prisoner than spouse, they say.”

The night of your Samara’s wedding is burned into your mind, it was the night you first heard of your own nuptial fate, your sentence for the crime of being born into your family. You thought nearly every detail blazed with clarity, but the faces of the endless horde of temporary help elude you. A reply forms on your lips but Astarion continues on from where he lays, hand entwining with yours, lips idly brushing your neck. “She seemed ordinary, if a bit withdrawn. Pretty enough little thing, I might add.”

That earns a weary laugh from you. “I didn’t expect to see her again, but I did, months later. The last party Cazador hosted before everything, she was there. By that time rumor had gone around that Cazador was going to take on some sort of consort as part of an alliance. I think Gortash’s rapid ascent was unsettling for some of the old families. The poor thing, she looked terrified, she knew something was wrong in that house. And…,” his voice breaks. Unconsciously, you pull him tighter, he’s not the only one reliving that night.

Drowning in a dress of purple and black, you were hauled to Szarr manor on pain of death. Not that it mattered, nothing mattered with Ophelia gone. Your first love, the tiefling that tended the gardens of your home, the only place you were allowed to move around freely outside the house. She’d disappeared right after your sister’s wedding, your Mother’s work no doubt. At the time, you had no idea Cazador was a vampire, but the whole manor was full of an air of hungry malice, and fear sprouted in all the shadows. Even the servants had an unearthly quality to them. “...we laughed at her. Well, Petras, Violet, and I, the most. Because we knew what awaited her when she became the center of Cazador’s attention. And it would be a relief to have someone else around that he could torture. She was so scared, but we didn’t have any empathy left in us, so we mocked her future suffering. I’m so sorry, my love.”

Since the first time he’d mentioned Cazador, you’d wanted to tell him, to empathize with him. But doing so would've broken your pact, taken away the shroud that hid you from your family. In your more introspective moments, you wondered if fate had somehow bound the two of you. You’d passed like ships in the night, you not even noticing him as a servant among the Szarr retinue, and reason would say you should have never met again. Yet he, of all the populace of Baldur’s Gate, was swept up by the Mindflayers, and lived to fall to that beach. You leave a comforting kiss on his forehead. “We left the past behind, remember, don’t worry yourself over it.” While it does sting to know there was a time he would’ve enjoyed your suffering, you know it will pass, inconsequential as the flower petals that used to litter the garden paths.

Even if it wasn’t fate, your love had grown out of the most amazing circumstances and it had given you courage to keep traveling the new path you’d laid out for yourself, even when you’d nearly stumbled at the beginning. Astarion sits up and you find his eyes watery, but he cups your cheek and brushes a thumb over it tenderly. “If you say so. It’s not like anyone else was getting a better version of me at the time I suppose.” He studies you for a moment, thinking again, before speaking. “Can you tell me about yourself now? Is it safe?”

Why Titania has granted you this reprieve, you’re not really sure, but you’re grateful that there’s no longer any forced secrets between you. “I believe so.” You try to gather your disparate thoughts, but a thousand little bits of darkness begin to tug at you, threatening to pull you down until ice water fills your lungs as you sink into a black ocean. “I…”

It’s not the pact that keeps you from talking, but years of entrenched dread. “You don’t have to, love, not if you’re not ready.” Astarion recognizes it too, hand now gently squeezing yours.

Shaking your head, you dispel the ghosts of that dark house, your life is full of love and light now. “No, I want to try.” A thought strikes you, a fitting place to start. “Can I tell you about Ophelia? I-I loved her, and I haven’t been able to even say her name since.”

Silence hangs between you and your breath is stilled, you hadn’t thought about how Astarion might feel, hearing about your first love. “I would be honored,” he presses his lips to yours. “And I can’t wait to learn everything else about my darling wife as well.”

Tag List:

@micropoe10 @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

@tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #x reader #my fanfic #my writing

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kairiscorner · 10 months

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Hiii I'm Back >:)

What about a Noir x fem reader where they go on a date/hanging out but Peter is like abnormally horny and the reader is oblivious LOL.

HELLO AGAIN @sabcandoit!! okay this one is a pretty silly one :>> SURE THING LMAO (don't ask why i used the same gif, he just looks so funni)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

"dearest..." peter called from behind you as you were busy preparing dinner. he wrapped his arms around you as he nuzzled his head against the crook of your neck, peppering kisses against your neck and cheeks. you giggled at the display of affection from your dearest as you kept washing the vegetables at the sink. "yes, dear?" you asked him, entertaining him without turning around, with a sweet smile on your face.

peter placed his hands on your waist and chuckled. "why, aren't you just so..." he trailed off as he rubbed at your sides slowly, smiling against your cheek all slyly. "aren't you just so lovely tonight?" he asked in a seemingly innocent voice, but it spoke with different intentions, intentions that were anything but innocent. you chuckled at his compliment and leaned into his relentless kisses. "and aren't you just so handsy tonight, pete?" you say with a slight giggle as you pulled away from his touch to get a few utensils you needed to make dinner.

peter followed you to the other side of the kitchen, thinking you were doing this to play hard to get. luckily for him, he knows how to play your game like the back of his hand. he chuckled to himself as he wrapped you in an embrace yet again, his grip tightening around your forearms to keep you from escaping or doing anything at all, really. you playfully rolled your eyes. "peter..." you said in a fake annoyed tone. he kissed the back of your head as he asked you, "what, love?" he went back to kissing your neck up and down, and soon, began kissing your shoulder and breathing heavier as he looked up at you and smirked. "peter." you repeated in a more serious tone as you set down your utensils and leaned against his touch.

peter thought he would finally convince you and give you what he's longed to give you in a while, finally, he'd be able to have you all for himself tonight. he chuckled and grinned mischievously at you. "yes, my loving spouse?" he asked in a sing-song voice as he put his chin on your shoulder. "i'm cooking." you promptly said, which disheartened peter and made his grin disappear from his face. "but..." he tried to convince you to keep the mood, which had already been shattered, keep going--but you just weren't getting the hint. you giggled as you pulled out of peter's loosening grip. "i'll make your favorite tonight, peter. that's probably what you've been doing, buttering me up for earlier." you said with a giggle, thinking you figured out exactly what peter wanted. but no, you couldn't be any farther from the truth.

peter retired to the living room, slumping down on an armchair as he sighed. he wanted to light a cigarette, take a long drag and hope that'd make his... urges go away. and so, he got up and off the armchair and lit his cigarette when he was finally out at the veranda. "peter, dinner's ready." you called out to him, and he turned around. to your dismay, he was smoking. but he swore he'd only smoke one cigarette, and only if he really felt like it. you sighed. "what's wrong, pete?" you asked as you approached him. he took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it out, letting it fall to the ground as its ashes spread and made a small mess.

he ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and looked at your concerned face. he tried to smile, but it came off quite forced. "nothing's wrong, dearest. i just... i wanted to... do things with you tonight." he said as he took your hands and rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles, admiring how smooth your skin felt, how right your hands fit into his own.

you tilted your head to the side. "but wasn't your whole show for me tonight enough? i made your favorite, you had your way, we did things tonight and i loved it. did... you not--"

"no, no, love, it's... it's more than just hugging and kissing that i want." he said as he placed his hand behind your head, and you brought your head up to look at him in the eyes. his eyes told a different story, a story of a man who longed to please his wife and satiate his own needs. he rubbed his thumb against you cheek, and with his smile and expression softening, he leaned in closer to you. "and i still really want it, love." he said as you leaned closer to him, getting the scent of burning tobacco in through your nose as he breathed against your skin.

and in an instant, you finally understood what he really wanted from you, what he needed from you. you connected your lips with his and wrapped your arms around his neck. as you two forgot about your dinner and made out at the veranda, you were planning on so many things to do with peter that night. and that'd only be the beginning, you had to make up for all the hard work he's been doing trying to get your attention, and wouldn't you be just excited for that?

a/n: SORRY IF IT SUCKS, i'm not very experienced in writing this kind of stuff for noir, but i hope you like it :'>> TY FOR THE REQUEST THOUGH !!

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @connors-cumslurper @maxoloqy

#spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir x y/n #spider noir fanfiction #itsv x reader #itsv x you #itsv x y/n #itsv imagines #itsv noir #itsv

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egcdeath · 3 years

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the mediocre american bake-off

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: when you and steve participate in morgan’s annual bake-off, things get a little ugly.

word count: 2k

warnings: established relationship, joke arguments, fluff, poorly described process of baking, comedy, competitive spouses

author’s note: thank you all for being patient with me while my updates have been lacking.

you can find the rest of my masterlist here!

You and Steve had a strong relationship.

Your marriage was built on a foundation of mutual respect, strong communication, and the purest, most genuine form of love. Frankly, you were a marriage counselor’s wet dream.

But just once a year, you two got ugly.

You see, both you and Steve found yourselves to be competitive people. Typically, your competitive natures were able to be put into use in constructive ways. As a pair, you dominated team game night, and kicked ass on every mission you found yourselves working on. But, once the week of Morgan’s birthday rolled around, everything changed.

For some reason, Tony thought it was a great idea for everyone who wanted to participate, to participate in an annual baking contest to make the best cake, and who were you to decline?

It happened to be right up you and Steve’s alley; your first date was a dinner you’d cooked together at his place, one of your favorite de-stressing habits was working together to bake bread, and of course, you’d annually created and donated hundreds of cupcakes to children in the hospital together as a unit. Logically, it would make sense for you two to work together on the competition, but every year without fail, you two split due to ‘creative differences’.

This split was to the rest of your team’s pleasure, ultimately getting to indulge in two amazing cakes by the end of the week, and having a whole week to watch you bicker like children. Nat liked to say that it was humanizing to see that your relationship wasn’t all flowers and rainbows.

For the past four years, the title of “Baker of the Year” had alternated between you and Steve. After the first year of the competition— despite Morgan being an extremely young child— your teammates saw just how ‘all out’ you two went, and decided for their own safety to not participate again. It was always some lame excuse for them, like their fridge broke or they couldn’t find any icing at the store at all. But deep down you knew that the team did not want to get caught in the crossfire of the Y/N/Steve brawl.

This year was no different. You stalked behind Steve at your local Whole Foods, tilting your floppy hat down as you grabbed a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. Steve tossed a few boxes of butter into your cart— some for you and some for him— and you peered over at him.

“What’re you making this year, Rogers?” you questioned.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Rogers,” he hummed, setting a carton of heavy whipping cream into the basket.

“Yeah, I would like to know. Maybe that’s why I asked,” you sped up your pace a bit to catch up to Steve.

“You’ll find out exactly what it is when Morgan declares my cake the winner,” he shrugged.

“Mhm. Very likely,” you said dryly, finding a large carton of eggs and gently setting it in the top section of your cart. “I admire your wishful thinking, though. Not only is my cake gonna taste amazing, it’s gonna look super cute too.”

“Shouldn’t you have a cake that looks and tastes good regardless?” Steve asked with a quirked brow as you strolled into the produce section.

You stood by his side patiently as he inspected apples and tried to come up with a quippy response, but you were drawing a blank. “I mean, it’s gonna look really good. I ordered some things off of Amazon. It’s gonna be great.”

“I don’t know why, but buying extra props online doesn’t exactly sound fair,” he set the bag gently down in the cart.

“Oh sweetheart,” you chuckled, “all is fair in love and war. Now let’s get out so we can start baking!”

——

When you arrived at the compound—where Tony insisted you cook, because of the good facilities and it’s closer to my place than your apartment! and definitely not because he wanted to have FRIDAY record you two fighting like dogs— you two got straight to work, setting aside your ingredients so that you wouldn’t mix them up with Steve’s. As you set your individual ovens to their proper temperatures, you stood back and took one final glance at your husband.

“Let the games begin,” you said, grabbing the biggest bowl you could find from the cupboard.

It was mostly quiet in the kitchen as you worked, with only the occasional joke being made or a ‘Behind you’. But it was only a matter of time before playful banter devolved into less playful taunting.

You were leaning over your stand mixer when Steve threw the first stone, idly standing by the stove while he watched his apples soften in a pan.

“You sure that’s not box mix, babe?” he asked, sauntering over to the countertop where you were working and dipping a finger into the batter.

“Steve!” you slapped his hand away, and he licked his finger with a pensive look on his face.

“Definitely boxed. Does Betty Crocker know you’re calling her work yours?” he locked eyes with you and smirked smugly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, but you’re being annoying. Get away from my station,” you bumped him lightly with your hip, and Steve took the message with a chuckle. “I hope you get salmonella,” you told him as he walked off.

Not too long later while you greased your pan, Steve came up behind you and grabbed your hips, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin out of reflex.

“Jesus, Steve! What are you doing?” you gasped, turning around and gently slapping a peck.

“Just letting you know that my cake is in the oven…” he nuzzled your neck, “please, remind me where yours is again?”

“Ha ha, very funny, Captain Obvious. I had no idea,” you reached for the batter that was still sitting in the mixing bowl on the stand. “This is your cue to leave, you horny bitch. You may be done, but I am not.”

If you saw Steve, you suspected he’d be pouting— or at least pretending to pout— but you refused to subject yourself to that. Hands released your hips, and there was suddenly an absence behind you.

Once your cake was in the oven and your icing was going to be whipped for quite some time, you decided to go bother Steve, sitting on top of his countertop while he stood across from you and scrolled on his phone.

“Is the loser doing the dishes?” you asked, swinging your legs.

“Mhm,” he hummed before looking up at you.

“Okay, cool. If that’s the case, then I think I’m gonna go paint my nails. Or maybe I’ll accidentally get an open wound or two,” you said with a smirk.

“Very likely,” Steve chuckled, setting his phone down and dramatically taking a whiff of the air. “Do you smell that?”

“What, the scent of victory?” you teased.

“No, I think your cake is burning. Or maybe it just.. naturally smells like that,” you rolled your eyes at his faux concern.

“Ooh, you got me,” you couldn’t help but giggle. It felt weird to be poorly trash talking your husband in the manner that you were. “With all the shit-talking you’re doing, you better have the best cake I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

“I can’t believe you’re doubting my baking abilities!”

At that moment, Sam peeked into the kitchen, made eye contact with Steve, then promptly turned away. You two howled with laughter for a moment before you received a text telling you how good the kitchen smelled.

By the time your cakes were out and decorated, FRIDAY had alerted you that Morgan’s party was starting in just a few minutes. You stared proudly at your devil’s food cake, quite accurately decorated like a beehive. It was probably your best work yet. If Mary Berry were in the kitchen with you, she would be proud.

You stood with your hands on your hips and admired both of the beautiful cakes in front of you, thinking of the hard work you’d put into making the delicious treats. “That looks like shit, Steve. Maybe you should stick to showing off the cake that’s attached to your body,” you teased. You’d be lying if you said your mouth wasn’t salivating at the sight of that upside-down cake.

—-

You sat with an almost smug face at a wooden picnic table next to Steve while Morgan examined the three cakes in front of her: Steve’s apple upside-down cake, your devil’s food cake, and what looked like a last minute thrown together Funfetti cake from Scott.

She decided to try your cake first, directing Pepper to cut her a slice while your team members watched in excited anticipation. You had to admit, it looked pretty amazing.

She used a fork to get a nice big bite, and hummed as she chewed. Things were looking promising for you. You glanced over at Steve to give him a smirk as Morgan clearly enjoyed your cake. At the sight of you, a small smile quirked on his own face.

Morgan simply nodded, keeping a neutral poker face, then received a slice of the upside-down cake. You really couldn’t read her reaction, but unless you were losing it, it seemed like she felt the same way about Steve’s as she felt about yours. A simple hum and a nod was all you two received. Steve gave your foot a light tap under the table, and you shook your head at him.

Finally, Morgan grabbed a slice of Scott’s sloppily put together cake that appeared to be straight out of the box. Morgan grinned as she chewed, then went in for another forkful. And another.

Oh no.

There was a collective tension in the yard from your teammates as they all looked back at both of you in shock. The next words that were about to come out of Morgan’s mouth would surely rock your world.

“Mm, this one is the best!” she cheered, “whoever made this is a winner winner chicken dinner.”

Scott stood up at his table, and everyone in the backyard clapped, including a hesitant applause from you and Steve. What an absolute wild card.

You gave each other curious looks; your brows creased, and his raised with surprise. Both at a loss for words for just a moment, you extended your hand before bursting out into laughter, “Good game.”

Steve shook your hand vigorously as he laughed right along with you, “Good game indeed. Now, I’d love to try some of your cake. It looks fucking delicious.”

“Really? Just a few hours ago, you were telling me just how bad it looked,” you teased, standing up and taking his hand as you walked over to the table where Morgan was poorly slicing your cakes.

After receiving lopsided slices, you made your way back to your picnic table and dug right into your cakes. With just one bite, you both were making muffled moans.

“Christ, Steve. What did you put in this?” you gasped, immediately going in for another bite.

“Are you kidding? This is like, better than sex.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” you said as you chewed.

There was a silence between you two for a few minutes as you chewed and appreciated the talent of one another.

“So will you be doing the dishes, or will I?” you asked between forkfuls of Steve’s cake.

He paused to take another bite of your cake, humming in satisfaction as he did so. “Well you know what they always say,” Steve began before away some yellow icing from his lips. “Teamwork makes the dream work. I’ll do your dishes, and you can do mine.”

“Mm, sounds good,” you nodded. “I still can’t believe Scott beat us. There had to have been some sort of bribery going on.”

“Oh absolutely. We’re not just being sore losers on this either,” Steve agreed.

“When have we ever been known to be sore losers?” you teased. “I guess we’ll just have to up our game next time.”

“No idea how you’re going to do that.”

“You flatter me, Steve,” you giggled. “Well, I guess this is the end for now. ‘Till next year?”

“‘Till next year. But we should probably work on our recipes so we don’t get bested by cake from a box again.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #andy barber x reader #steve rogers fluff #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers reader insert

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lisinfleur · 5 years

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Cold

It was a cold morning after a freezing night. Sigurd had slept well since you woke in the middle of the night to provide your bed with more furs to keep both of you warm and he helped you to feed the heart of fire of your house to keep the whole place comfortable.

You were always there to care for everything he needed and maybe this was why he woke up so surprised when feeling your body still lying beside his in bed. Usually, you would wake up before him, set the breakfast for the two of you and then, he would wake up to find you at the kitchen or anything like that. But he didn't complain.

Instead, he smiled. It was good to see you resting a little more - as he was so used to ask you to do.

Satisfied, Sigurd rolled towards you in bed, intending to wake you up with some kisses and caresses, but the temperature of your body was enough to alarm him: you were burning!

He touched his fingers on your arms to softly turn you towards him and you moaned in pain, clenching his heart into his chest when you opened your eyes softly swollen.

"Don't... shh... go back to sleep, love," he said, kissing your forehead, completely worried. "You're in a fever!"

It wasn't that high, you knew, but your whole body was aching and you kinda thanked the gods he didn't want you to get up.

"I had to wash some clothes yesterday and it was windy when I came home... I think I got a cold," you said, hoarse.

"I'll call the healer anyway. But until then, you stay in bed," Sigurd warned, getting up and softly straightening the pillows to make you more comfortable on the bed.

"It's fine, Sigurd. I'll make our breakfast," you insisted, and then, his hand touched your face with a slow caress.

It was clear he was trying to measure his touch to not to hurt your aching body.

"Don't you dare to come out of this bed, Y/N. You care for everything around me, every day. Today I'll care for you. Rest, love," he said, lovingly kissing your forehead before pulling the furs over you once again, stirring the fireplace of the room to get you warmer.

Sigurd was right.

You rarely had a day to yourself to sleep more than your bed or do nothing but enjoy. You had slaves, of course: which spouse of a prince wouldn't have her own servants? But you weren't like the great majority and you never treated your slaves as machines made to work for you to be still. You used to care for your own house and do a lot of things with your own hands for the simple pleasure of having everything on your way.

Despite Ivar's malicious words trying to say Sigurd wasn't caring enough for you, you were a natural worker and you liked to make those tasks. But it was always consuming the time of your days and you weren't noticing you weren't taking care of yourself.

You sighed, hearing Sigurd messing with your pots at the kitchen. Maybe it wouldn't be bad to have a day to rest. Your body was really aching and you were feeling so tired!

With so many thoughts combined to your tiredness, you ended up falling asleep once again to wake up with the soft touch of a wet piece of cloth on your forehead.

"I'm sorry, love," Sigurd asked and you noticed he was sitting beside you at the edge of the bed, placing the cloth on your forehead gently. "The healer came, you were sleeping but she examined you and asked me your symptoms. She told me to place this cloth in your forehead to lower your temperature and also gave me some herbs to make you a tea."

"What do I have?" you asked, trying to straighten yourself at the bed.

The time of sleep showing its results as you felt a little better.

"You were right: she said you probably have an aggressive and quick cold that's taking some people of our town after yesterday's windy afternoon. You're not the only one. My brother Hvitserk and Ubbe's two girls are in bed as well," he said, straightening the cloth that was slowly becoming warmer.

"Poor children," you mourned the girls.

They were young yet. Around six and seven years old respectively.

"They'll be fine. According to the healer, they fell ill first, so they're recovering already. It seems the cold is lasting three to five days. Which means..."

You looked at him, surprised.

"No... Sigurd, I cannot..." you started saying you couldn't leave your tasks for so long, but he placed his fingers over your mouth interrupting you.

"Everything, Y/N. Every single day. Since we got married, I have breakfast every single day, lunch and dinner. And you even make me snacks in the afternoon. My clothes are all clean, my house is in perfect order and you're always clean and perfect to tend for any event I have in the Hall. You care for my clothes and I don't have a single hole on them. My hair is tightly braided, my beard is well-trimmed. You're the perfect wife!" he praised, causing you to blush as he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. "And even the perfect wife needs to rest, my love. You need to rest, you're sick, and I'll care for you and everything. Don't worry."

You sighed, smiling as he turned to receive a tray from the slave who just entered your room. On it, a cup of hot tea - probably the herbs you had to drink - a piece of buttered bread with some rabbit meat for you to eat.

Sigurd took a piece of the bread and the meat, slowly combining the two of them before bringing it to your mouth, softly.

"Eat, my love. Then you'll drink your tea and it will bring your strength back. I'll have around five days to spoil you as much as I want and believe me, you won't move a finger!"

"Not even to eat my own food?" you asked, with a smile.

And he smiled back, taking the food closer to your lips.

"Not even to eat your own food. Now, mouth open, love!"

You smiled, eating from his fingers. And even not really feeling hungry, you ate for the pleasure of having him so tenderly caring for you.

Sigurd gently checked the temperature before giving the teacup in your hands being sure it wouldn't burn your hands or your lips. He checked the slaves for the house tasks and warranted you would have all the four meals of the day at the right time, with fresh food and a cup of the medicinal tea you needed to drink in each one of them.

When not checking for anything, he was by your side, being sure your fever would disappear, and then, that it wouldn't come back.

The majority of people sick from that cold were taking three or four days to get better. Some of them even five or six! But you were feeling amazing in two days, despite you knew you still have to guard yourself for, at least, one more day to warrant the cold wouldn't come back.

In the morning of the fourth day, you woke up before him once again. Feeling better, you went to the kitchen, preparing his favorite pancakes and buttermilk.

"What are you doing?" you heard his voice coming from the kitchen door with a worried tone.

"The breakfast for the two of us," you answered, placing the pancakes on the table along with the buttermilk and the syrup you made.

"Shouldn't you be resting, my wife?" he asked, but you could see the glow in his eyes towards the warm pancakes.

Especially when you cut a cube of the fresh butter, placing it over the pile on his plate, watching as it started to melt.

"I don't think so," you said, conducting him to sit at his place on the table and softly kissing his cheek. "I was sick, you know? But I have the most wonderful and loving husband in Midgard and he cared for me. So, now that I'm feeling awesome, I think I could spoil him a little as a way to say thank you..." you smiled, placing the plate in front of him and covering the pancakes with the syrup just the way he liked.

Sigurd licked his lips, feeling his mouth-watering.

"Are you sure you're feeling good, my love?" he asked, still worried before you could softly sit in his lap, cutting a piece of his pancakes and slowly taking it to his mouth, mimicking his own sweetness when giving you food during your sickness period.

He smiled accepting the food and you smiled back in a lovely scene.

"I couldn't be better, my love."

With a husband like him? You couldn't be better indeed.

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janeykath318 · 7 years

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Kiss, Marry, Kill: Kirk x Reader

It all started as a joke: someone in the security department had done the Kiss, Marry, Kill, game with certain co workers and it had started to spread, even down to Medbay, where various nurses could be heard debating the merits of Scotty, Uhura, and even Chekov. The Captain ended up overhearing while he was getting patched up one day and you knew you were all doomed.

"So, Nurse Y/L/N, how am I faring on the lists down here? Did I make it on a lot of people's Kiss list?" "I hate to break it to you, captain," you told him, mirth dancing in your eyes, "you're actually leading in the Kill category. Dr. McCoy in particular was very vocal in his choice." "Of course he would," Kirk sighed, rolling his far too pretty eyes. "I did think some of you liked me better than that." He made a sad puppy face that was next to impossible to resist, especially for you who secretly had it bad for him. "Maybe if you wouldn't be in here so much, we wouldn't be so sick of you, captain," you said mischievously. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know." "So, if I stayed perfectly healthy, you'd respect me more?" He asked, half teasingly. "Possibly," you hinted. "Maybe acting less like a child when you're getting hypos would help too. Just a tip." You winked at him and walked out to get the doctor, leaving Jim staring after you, torn between being insulted and in love. The next few days, the Kiss, Marry, Kill theme seemed to really spread over the ship. In fact, someone in the bridge crew announced there would be a contest for people to submit their Kiss, Marry, Kill choices, (among the single officers) along with written out reasons to be judged by Uhura and Sulu. Those with the best reasoning for their picks would get to have dinner with the officer of their dreams. You rolled your eyes and wondered just how desperate the Captain was to be liked. "No way am I doing this!" You declared. It's utter childish nonsense!" "Oh, c'mon, Y/N, I thought you'd jump at the chance to go out with that corn-fed menace of a Captain you have a crush on," teased Dr. McCoy, hearing your rant. "Oh, puh-leeze," you snorted. "I don't have a crush on him. Just because I made one comment about his eyes once, does not mean I'm all lovey-dovey, lovestruck over him. Heck, even YOU admit he has gorgeous eyes, and you certainly have no romantic feelings for him." "Oh, there's a very big difference, Y/N. You haven't seen yourself when he comes in here. You're practically bowling over the other nurses to get to him." "I do not," you sulked. "Do I, Christine?" "Well......" she tried to hedge, and you put your hands on your hips, outraged at the lack of support. You pretended to utterly ignore the whole contest, but the endless chatter about Jim vs. Scotty vs. Leonard drove you up the wall, especially the guys in medical who talked about him like he was a piece of meat, ripe for the tasting. You hoped they were all horrible writers. Jim deserved better! At last, you got an idea. It would probably not win the contest, but it would make you feel better. You sat down after shift and started writing. Kiss, Marry, Kill, by Y/N Y/L/N Kiss: James T. Kirk Reason: 1. To shut him up when he drones on and on about the wonders of space 2. Those lips are too perfect 3. My gut tells me he's really good at it. Marry: James T. Kirk Reason: Because I worship the ground he walks on and he might be less of a reckless fool if he had a spouse to remind him how much he has to live for and how loved and needed he is. I’d love to pick that genius brain. Also: captain's quarters come with real water showers, a big plus. Kill: (Hypothetically, of course) James T. Kirk Reason: He's a aggravation to the nth degree. Examples include: Frequent Injuries, extreme stubbornness, Those ridiculous stupid smiles he gives that could cause dangerous heart arrhythmia, his bluer than blue eyes that cause people to lose their concentration when he looks at them, and the terrible dad jokes he cracks that he thinks are so funny and laughs so hard at. Despite being pleased at managing to refrain from mentioning Jim's other positive attributes (that ass!), you wavered back and forth before you finally sent in your entry. You'd kind of bared your heart, after all. However, Sulu and Uhura were both very good at respecting people's privacy and they wouldn't spill your secrets. Besides, the chances of you winning were very low, if not impossible, given that you'd used the same name for every slot. At last, however, you hit send, and went to bed very relieved. You'd almost forgotten about the whole thing by the time the winners were announced three weeks later and when you got a message declaring "Congratulations, Lieutenant Y/L/N, you were selected as a winner in our shipwide contest. Your entry was chosen as the best among those who put Captain James T. Kirk in the Kiss or Marry options." You stopped reading right then and there and began mentally freaking out. You'd only entered as a joke and a fun way to relieve your feelings. Guess they'd taken you seriously. Could you back out without looking like an idiot? Surely, the runner up would be more than happy to take your place. During lunch the next day, the winners were announced over the intercom by Sulu. You didn't know where to look when your name was read and all your friends turned to stare at you. (Thankfully, McCoy had other things to worry about, since someone had won dinner with him.) "Congratulations, Y/N!" Christine said, a pleased grin on her face. "I'll gladly offer my services to help you get ready for your date with the Captain." Your face felt like it was burning up, more so when you saw Jim Kirk ambling over to your table. "Hi, Captain," you muttered, wishing you could sink through the floor. "Nurse Y/L/N! This is a happy coincidence!" Kirk exclaimed, walking up to you, with that disgustingly contagious smile on his face. "How so?" You managed, even more nervous in his presence. "I've been trying to get up the courage to ask you out anyway." "Me?!!" You squeaked. "Of course you. You do know you're my favorite nurse, right?" "No......" you said slowly, processing this information. Jim liked you? Really? Surely it was too good to be true! "Yes, you are," he said firmly. "So, Are you going to claim your prize?" There went that cheeky expression again. "Insufferable egoist," Len muttered, rolling his eyes. "Of course she is!" Christine said for you. "Name the date, place and time, and she'll be there." While you were spluttering, they determined the dinner would take place in the small observation deck the next Friday at 1900 hours. "Great!" Jim exclaimed, "We'll see you then! Have a nice day, Y/N." "Traitor!" You hissed weakly to Christine, but the butterflies of anticipation dancing in your gut said differently. "Trust me, you'll thank me later. I wouldn't have done this If I didn't think he really cares about you," she told you. She did come through on her promise to help you prepare for the big date, and before you knew it, you were all dolled up in a green dress and cute updo style Christine saw in a magazine and thought would look perfect on you. "There! You look stunning!" She said at last, stepping back and inspecting you carefully. You smiled and gulped. "Let's hope the Captain thinks so, too." "Oh, he will," she assured you. "Now, shoo, have a good time!" More nervous than you'd ever been, you made your way to the agreed upon room, where Jim was waiting for you. Having rarely seen him in anything besides his uniform or a hospital gown, you were taken aback by the sight of him in a blue dress shirt and tie. "Wow!" You breathed. He cleaned up GOOD. "Wow, yourself," Jim returned. "You look amazing." "Thanks," you said, face warm with the compliment. "This was really nice of you to play along, but What if Cupcake had won?" Jim laughed. "I'd still hang out with him, but He's only likely to put me on the Kill list. Trust me, I'm not his type AT ALL." As the two of you devoured the food, which was very tasty, he asked you about what you'd written. "I actually didn't think I'd be considered eligible," you told him, "given how I made cases for why I'd want to kiss, marry, AND kill you. Somehow, it was rather cathartic." "I seem to inspire that reaction a lot," Jim said ruefully, buttering a roll. "Glad you came, though. So, tell me, what's life like working in Bones's domain? I hear he can be a bear at times." "Oh, he can," you confirmed. "You just have to use common sense and know how to placate him. He's a good boss, but he doesn't suffer fools." "That's very true," Jim said. "He's said several times that next to Chapel, you're the best nurse on Alpha shift." "He said that?" You asked, flustered again. "Yes, he did," Jim said. "And I think you're pretty awesome too--both as a nurse and a person." "Wow, You really are a smooth talker," you said, raising an eyebrow. "Let's see if you're still saying that once you've got to know me and my quirks some more." "Does this mean you're willing to go on more dates?" He asked, looking hopeful. "As long as this one ends as well as it started, definitely." "What do you say to this?" He asked, pulling the cover off of a plate containing two lovely slices of chocolate cake with caramel filling peeking out. "Poke cake?" You gasped. The man had done his research--this was your absolute favorite indulgence. The white frosting on top covered the caramel glaze that oozed down through holes poked in the cake and made it deliciously gooey and decadent. "Indeed. Made special by real people: not replicators." Jim looked extremely pleased with himself, eyes darting back and forth between you and the cake. Picking up Jim's hand, you kissed it dramatically. "My hero!" You explained in a staged breathy sigh. "That'll do the trick all right. The shyness disappeared along with the cake and you and Jim ended up laughing and talking and flirting until a late hour. "So, see you again soon?" He asked, when he walked you to your door. "Of course. Hopefully NOT in sickbay, though." You poked him meaningfully in the chest, then leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Jim." "Goodnight, Y/N" he replied staring after you with what Christine would have called "heart eyes."

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thedarkcircuswritings · 30 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkcircuswritings/747597077745369089/teddy-anon-here-aaaaaand-gonna-keep-the-marriage?source=share

Teddy anon and I got two requests due to loving the post marriage request earlier....I'll send em separately, this is the first one.

Butter roll x autistic spouse reader post marriage life plz!

(Also am personally not the parent type...don't think I'd be good with kids but if you hc that butter roll would somehow talk y/n into having kids then I'm cool with it. Just putting that out there since someone requested earlier for butter roll to have a baby and you hinted in this one about him wanting a child so...

Though gonna throw this out there for fun if you do decide that butter roll somehow takes y/n into having a kid...can imagine that y/n might get overstimulated from baby crying until butter roll helps them get used to it aaaand they'd just shower the child in attention and affection so they might be fun parent while butter roll might need to be the one to bring order...while still bringing fun possibly lol!

Example if ya want: butter roll would have to be the one to put the kid AND y/n to bed because y/n would stay up with the child via losing track of time playing with em or, if child wanted to stay up late watching tv....y/n would stay up with em lol!)

"My creationnnn, happy anniversary!"

Domestic life with Butter Roll would be nothing too unfamiliar, as he seems to like schedules as much as you do. He makes sure to tell you plenty of events in advance, and if something abrupt comes up, he does his best to properly rework both of your schedules to make sure you don't get too overwhelmed by it. Butter Roll is also a bit of a blabbermouth since he's gotten comfortable with you. He will always have something to talk to you about unless you want quiet time. Surprisingly, he still has his license too, and he's the one who drives you both around, whether it'd be to work, to the store, out on dates, or to other places. Yes, he also has a license to handle a balloon- what do you mean both look fake? Because of his recklessness, Butter Roll gets sick more often, but when you get sick, he does his best to do what's needed to get you better! That includes trying to make health potions. Take the safety on it as you will. If you don't want kids, Butter Roll wouldn't want to bake one. He'll only do so if his creation does! For now though, he's very happy with his current life with his creation, and he hopes you're happy in it too.

#🎭shadow writing!#🤡request clowns!#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run oneshot #butter roll cookie #reader cookie #y/n cookie #butter roll x reader #autistic!reader #autistic!y/n #spouse!reader #spouse!y/n #butter roll x autistic!reader #butter roll x spouse!reader #butter roll x autistic!spouse!reader

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